When I think of grocery stores, I hear voices booming over intercoms announcing "price checks", "bagging assistance needed", and of course something like, "clean up on aisle three, we're gonna need a wet mop!" You're bound to find the over-worked cashier, the whining child, awkward carts, frantic shoppers, and blinding halogen lightening - illuminating the drudgery that is grocery shopping.
The typical grocery store is harsh, the environment is tough, and the shopping experience usually just saps your energy and happiness, but at the food co-op where I've been working, despite the inherent sporadic craziness of being a grocery store, is quite a bit different from the run off the mill "big box" grocery business. At La Montanita Cooperative, food is celebrated. People interact with one another. There's a feeling that the shop, which emphasizes local and organic food, is actually aiding you in your pursuit of health and wellness. It feels uplifting, a culinary promise land where you are surrounded by signs for grass fed, certified organic, gluten-free shit, and the opportunity to spend oodles of money on strictly soy products, five varieties of local squash, buffalo meat, and enough vitamins to substitute ever eating food again. It's awesome! Whole Foods gets it - that's why they are now wildly successful among foodies of all ages and Hummer driving soccer moms alike.
In the midst of growing popularity for the "natural" grocery industry, many community owned and cooperated establishments see Whole Foods as a corporate, brainwashing bully. The Co-op, surrounded by the construction of more and more Whole Foods chains, works to bring it back to the community. And, I assure you, it's more than the hummus and kombucha that makes this grocery shop seem so different than the norm; it's the eclectic customers that bring mindfulness to an otherwise mindless cashiering world.
Take Lola Moonfrog for example. Though donning a McLovin'-style name, this 60's could-a been "love child" changed my day with her peacefulness and positive outlook on life. Together, as we completed the task of separating her produce (based on delicateness) into cloth bags, we chatted and she shared her peacefulness with me. Such a interaction is not abnormal for the co-op of Santa Fe, where shoppers are nit-picking, quirky folks - bent on particulars, but it was her thoughtfulness that moved me. We talked about the beautiful sunset radiating through the shop windows and she told me about the difficulty of her day. As she pushed her purchases away from my register, she mentioned to me that it was during her hardest days that she looks to nature for the small reminders of goodness. And, in the 5 minutes that we shared at the co-op, she felt a greater sense of calm and had a better feeling about the rest of her day. I smiled. Lola Moonfrog had brought peace to me as well.
One guy, a hippie twenty-something, with a scratch on his forehead, recounted how he had been off hiking in the woods when he had gotten the scrape on his head. He thought it resembled a check mark. "Kind of like the world was saying, 'you're allllllright'," he told me. Haha, hell yeah.
As it got to the end of my shift; the time of night when the
store grows quiet and the folks with extensive shopping lists give way
to those hunting for sugar fixes and organic late night snacks, my manager came up to my register and started opening up about his wife leaving him 13 years ago, the weight of the divorce that he had just gone through, and the heartache associated with never knowing why she left. Now, here's the thing - I was listening to what he had to say when I felt so inclined to try to relate it to what I was going through with my parents. I said one thing, "my parents are also going through a divorce right now, so I completely understand." But, as soon as the sentence left my mouth, I felt awkward and selfish about it. I thought to myself immediately, "this person isn't looking for someone to relate too. He isn't trying to find camaraderie. Here is a 50 something, co-worker of mine, looking for someone to listen and, Nicola, you're being totally selfish in trying to get your fucking story in." Luckily, he kept talking and I was able to keep my mouth shut and be a good listener, but it was interesting to me that I felt so bad as soon as I tried to identify with him. I guess, what I was thinking was that sometimes we just have to listen. Usually I try to respond with something - you know, chime in with my two cents, but this was different. Sometimes, it isn't what is happening in
our lives that matters. It's important that we are just "there"...and that's it.
How many times have you tried to give someone advice that they didn't ask for, dominated someone else's struggle with your own narrative, or overshadowed another's need for a listener with your impulse to speak? Maybe it wasn't that big of a deal, but it makes me think about the importance of listening, about when we are selfish, and what we can do to be more receptive to those around us.
Lola Moonfrog, the check mark hippie, and my manager shared amazing, but also difficult parts of their lives with me today. Though small in nature, they were what mattered to me at the end of the day, and throughout my day, made all of the difference. I figure that we can find comfort in the subtleties of all interactions if we are focused more on what this world has to teach us, than what we have to say. Now, off of my soap box, I hope that my faltering was remedied by my reminder to listen, for there are lessons around us - even amidst life's inherent distractions - loud speakers, halogen lights, and wet mops included.
