Photo by Séamus Carroll
Sitting in a cafe, on a bus, on a park bench, and virtually anywhere else there are people around. You begin to notice what people are doing. Not subscribing to any wider philosophy other than to simply exist in the present moment, noticing other people existing in the same moment as you. Passive and perhaps unconscious observations of the interesting and exciting takes place constantly as we go about our day.
A more active people-watching takes a deeper turn, as you begin to stray from the eye-catching to seeing what the eyes skip over. Subtle and unassuming actions, words and phrases that occur around you catch your attention, everywhere, at alarming speed and varying complexity, and form the bones of the strangers you meet or pass, but will ultimately never know.
Studying the more mundane moments of an unfamiliar person’s day comes with the responsibility of acknowledging a lack of context. This takes place while you also embrace the wonder of learning without this burden of context. Sometimes there is no greater picture. Sometimes you see someone put two sugars in their coffee and that’s all there is to it. The beautiful thing is, though, especially if one people-watches as a writer or creative, there can be so much more to the story than what you first see.
It can be overwhelming. In this moment as I sit by this window, that group of friends by the door point at a laptop screen, working on a group project. A man in a suit spills his flat white on the counter as he picks it up too fast. One very stressed barista makes coffee after coffee while throwing her eye over her shoulder as she looks for a manager to help, the line growing longer. Each one of these individuals have their own full lives, much greater than the snippet I have witnessed in those few seconds, as intricate as mine and all the more interesting because of what I cannot know. Recognising the levels of complexity behind every small action by every anonymous stranger I could never possibly know is a weird thought. All I will ever likely know are these small, insignificant and isolated moments of their existences. As I watch, witnessing nothing more than a glimpse of the little details that combine to make a human being a person, I wonder, if someone else were to take notice, what would they think of me? Noticing the details of other people surprisingly makes you acutely aware of your own self.
People watching with practice teaches you to find the unbelievably infinite and spectacular in the ordinary of everyday routine. As you watch someone run for a bus, think of how many places they could possibly be trying to go and for what reasons. When you see someone smile at a notification on their phone, wonder whose name and words made them light up so quickly. When you see someone sitting by themselves on a park bench, ask if they could be people watching too.
