Dylan Stafford

Monday, I went to work naked, or so it felt. I left my computer bag at home, on purpose, to do an experiment about whether or not there was actually anything inside it that I need. It’s Tuesday morning, I survived a whole day without that stupid bag, and here’s what I noticed.

I carry that computer bag, oh let’s be real, it’s a man purse. It’s a computer bag the way a GI Joe is an action figure, not a doll. It would be a computer bag if there was a computer in it, but my laptop never leaves the house.

Back and forth every day, I carry that silly bag filled with home stuff and some work stuff. My rationalization is that when I’m at work, I might need some home stuff, and later, when I’m at home I might need some of the work stuff. But the truth, I suspect, is neither. 

My suspicion is that I carry that computer bag to tell the world how busy I am and to keep people at a safe distant.

“There goes Dylan. My! What a hard-working white boy he is. Look at his short, serious haircut. And that computer bag! Why, you never see him without it.”

That’s all. That’s the illusion I imagine I perpetuate. But I’m outing myself. I’m not that busy. I’m not that important. I actually have time to talk to you.

I’m doing a year-long program called “Team, Management and Leadership Program”. It’s six hours a week, for a year. It’s all about changing from an “I” point of view to a “we” point of view. The class is hard for someone like me who wants to be a little “gold star teacher’s pet” all the time. How can I ask for help and create a team around me? How will “I” get any credit?

What I’m seeing is that I walk around with this deep, dinosaur fear that I’m about to get voted off the island at any point. It’s hamster-wheel futility because I can never run fast enough to outpace that fear. So, I keep these little costumes around to assuage myself and keep up a pretense of importance-the computer bag / man purse.

What I really want, if I could be anything, is to be present. To be one of those rare people you meet who are with you when you meet them, who are present.

There was a woman I went to high school with, Gina Hatfield. She was present. She had a grace about her. In the swirling hallways of high school, she could stop and be with other people. She was the first person I’ve ever seen with the gift of being present. I’ve met a few other people since then who seem to naturally have it. Me? I’m a schlep and I’m going to have to practice. Being present doesn’t come naturally for me, stuck in my mind all the time, hearing KFCK radio blaring and tuning me out from the people all around me.

Practice #1?  Day two of leaving the computer bag at home. Hands free. Going to work and through my day just a little bit less aloof. Taking one small gesture to say to life, “I’m here. So are you.”

Maybe today I’ll talk to someone and, just for a moment, be still and see them and hear them and connect.