This piece does something profound: it argues, with gentle, awkward courage, that what binds us together is infinitely greater than what keeps us apart.
You stood at the bottom of that escalator and proved it. You embraced the one thing we fear more than rejection: the risk of looking stupid in the service of a simple, human truth. That terrifying vulnerability wasn't a side effect; it was the proof of concept. It was the cost of admission back into our shared humanity.
We've become aliens to the very connection that defines us. We trade glances for screens, acknowledgements for efficiency. You didn't just break a social rule. You performed a repatriation. You walked into the no-man's-land of public anonymity and planted a flag of recognition so basic—"You are beautiful, you exist, I see you"—that it forced a ceasefire in the silent war of separateness we're all fighting.
That's why the woman with the cane straightened up. That's why the radiance appeared. You weren't just naming beauty; you were reconnecting a severed circuit. The current that flowed wasn't just kindness; it was the shock of belonging, the voltage of "we."
So thank you. This isn't just a story about comfort zones. It's evidence. It's proof that the glue still holds, that the binding agent of our common humanity is still potent—but it requires someone brave enough to look foolish applying it.
You didn't just tell strangers they were beautiful. You performed a public, quiet ceremony of reconnection in an airport, and you gave people back to themselves. And in doing so, you gave us all back to each other.
Rick, THIS reflection of yours today is so beautiful.
And this so profound: “Did I really think each of these people were beautiful? Before delivering the words, the answer was no. But the miraculous thing was how beautiful people became once I said the words out loud.”
Rick, this has to be, without a doubt, your *worst* essay. To which I add …
… you’re welcome.
Why? I just gave you a therapeutic dose of Jia Jiang’s Rejection Therapy. (I’ll send you an invoice shortly.)
All kidding aside, this piece (a really good one, as always - honest!) really resonated with me, since my tendency has always been to freeze in the face of potential rejection. Perhaps the antidote is: "Bring it on!"
On that note, I’m looking at my reading list, which includes a recently procured copy of Jiang’s “The Rejection Project.” I just bumped that bad boy up to the next book in line.
Two of your thoughts resonated deeply:
“I knew the disappointment of backing away from the challenge would be way worse than the discomfort of following through … "
And, to mirror James Bailey’s feedback: “The miraculous thing was how beautiful people became once I said the words out loud.”
This is a beautiful essay by an awesome human being.
This strikes me as the magic that is always available... if only... yeah... you, Rick, and this platform of yours is beautiful. Have a delicious holiday.
Rick,
This piece does something profound: it argues, with gentle, awkward courage, that what binds us together is infinitely greater than what keeps us apart.
You stood at the bottom of that escalator and proved it. You embraced the one thing we fear more than rejection: the risk of looking stupid in the service of a simple, human truth. That terrifying vulnerability wasn't a side effect; it was the proof of concept. It was the cost of admission back into our shared humanity.
We've become aliens to the very connection that defines us. We trade glances for screens, acknowledgements for efficiency. You didn't just break a social rule. You performed a repatriation. You walked into the no-man's-land of public anonymity and planted a flag of recognition so basic—"You are beautiful, you exist, I see you"—that it forced a ceasefire in the silent war of separateness we're all fighting.
That's why the woman with the cane straightened up. That's why the radiance appeared. You weren't just naming beauty; you were reconnecting a severed circuit. The current that flowed wasn't just kindness; it was the shock of belonging, the voltage of "we."
So thank you. This isn't just a story about comfort zones. It's evidence. It's proof that the glue still holds, that the binding agent of our common humanity is still potent—but it requires someone brave enough to look foolish applying it.
You didn't just tell strangers they were beautiful. You performed a public, quiet ceremony of reconnection in an airport, and you gave people back to themselves. And in doing so, you gave us all back to each other.
Very well put, Mo!
Thank you, Larry.
Rick, THIS reflection of yours today is so beautiful.
And this so profound: “Did I really think each of these people were beautiful? Before delivering the words, the answer was no. But the miraculous thing was how beautiful people became once I said the words out loud.”
What we see comes from how we look.
Thank you, pal. 🙏
Rick, this has to be, without a doubt, your *worst* essay. To which I add …
… you’re welcome.
Why? I just gave you a therapeutic dose of Jia Jiang’s Rejection Therapy. (I’ll send you an invoice shortly.)
All kidding aside, this piece (a really good one, as always - honest!) really resonated with me, since my tendency has always been to freeze in the face of potential rejection. Perhaps the antidote is: "Bring it on!"
On that note, I’m looking at my reading list, which includes a recently procured copy of Jiang’s “The Rejection Project.” I just bumped that bad boy up to the next book in line.
Two of your thoughts resonated deeply:
“I knew the disappointment of backing away from the challenge would be way worse than the discomfort of following through … "
And, to mirror James Bailey’s feedback: “The miraculous thing was how beautiful people became once I said the words out loud.”
This is a beautiful essay by an awesome human being.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Rick, you know that I think YOU are beautiful. But now seems like the right moment to tell you that
I bet TSA was just moments away from declaring you a 'Weapons-Grade Complimenter.' Great experiment!
You're beautiful. Happy holidays!
This strikes me as the magic that is always available... if only... yeah... you, Rick, and this platform of yours is beautiful. Have a delicious holiday.
That's a beautiful story! Fake it 'til you make it!
What a beautiful gift you gave to strangers. Well done.
This might be my FAVORITE story of yours!!! Love it. You are beautiful for doing this, and sharing this, and seeing this.
Making someone’s day, when they are not expecting it at all, is one of life’s uniquely joyful feelings.