As I paused halfway through my shower to change the music, the time on my lock screen instantly made me realize I was already running late. Instead of changing the music, I turned it off and began rushing. This time, the music had stopped, but I could still feel the beat—my heartbeat. It was pumping fast.
After the shower, I packed three boiled eggs, four bananas, and a pinch of pink salt for my breakfast. I then booked a motorcycle ride, leaving enough time to prepare my work stuff.
One thought I try to hold onto, especially when running late is: “What if every time I’m late, I don’t get caught in traffic?” This simple thought has often worked wonders and left me in awe. However, there are times when I find myself stuck in traffic repeatedly, only to realize: “I should have just woken up early and left earlier.”
After navigating through the hustle and bustle of the traffic, we entered a rather narrow and quiet street. On the left side were what looked like residential and rental units, while on the right were cafes, convenience stores, and carinderias (small local eateries). The smell of dried fish and the sizzling sound of fried eggs could be heard coming from across the street.
As we moved to the next block, I found myself staring at a four-story, modern-looking, white-coloured building which looked like a dormitory. The peeling and faded paint made it look old, but it was well-fenced and appeared secure. On either side of the entrance were plant boxes. The one on the left was full of flowers, while the one on the right had a mix of flowers, spinach, and lemongrass.
As we were about to pass the dormitory, a middle-aged guy wearing a white t-shirt, blue shorts, and flip-flops entered my field of vision from the corner of the plant box. He was carrying a transparent plastic bag in his left hand, inside of which were chopped chicken thighs, a couple of garlic bulbs, and a few pieces of ginger. As he made his stride forward, he reached out his right hand over the lemongrass, grasped it firmly with a strong grip, twisted it, and plugged it off. As he plugged it off, a huge smile instantly lit up his face.
Although I was just an observer from a distance, it felt like I was a participator too because the very moment I saw a random stranger smile, I too found myself smiling, lightened up, and happy for no reason. It was as if I had copied his emotions purely based on observations.
That day when I entered the office, I gave a big smile to my co-workers (or rather, a copied smile from a stranger). Weeks passed and months passed, but the thought of the lemongrass incident kept playing in my mind.
A part of me was like: “It’s just a normal interaction and there’s nothing special about it,” but in the back of my mind, I kept pondering, wondering, and reflecting on the incident. Somewhere deep down, it felt as if I was missing something, until one day the light switch flicked on when I came across a random video on YouTube about mirror neurons.
Mirror neurons are a special type of neuron that fires both when an individual performs an action and when they observe someone else performing a similar action. These neurons were first discovered in the ventral premotor cortex of macaque monkeys and were later found in humans as well. Functional MRI (fMRI) studies show that observing actions activates the dorsal and ventral areas of the superior temporal sulcus (STS), which are involved in interpreting movement patterns (Rizzolatti & Sinigaglia, 2016). These neurons also play a major role in understanding the goals and intentions behind others’ actions (Lago-Rodríguez, Cheeran, Koch, Hortobágyi, & Fernandez-del-Olmo, 2014).
But what are the chances of you and I being awestruck by a random incident leading to positive interactions? Probably the chances are as equal to being bombarded by negative events too.
Those days when you and I encounter positive exchanges are the days to live for and cherish. And on those days when we see someone sad— may they be our loved ones or strangers—those are the days to be there for them. We might not necessarily have to mirror their emotions, but we can always listen to them and make them feel heard.
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REFERENCES
1. Rizzolatti, G., & Sinigaglia, C. (2016). The mirror mechanism: A basic principle of brain function. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 17(12), 757-765. https://doi.org/10.1038/nrn.2016.135
2. Lago-Rodríguez, A., Cheeran, B., Koch, G., Hortobágyi, T., & Fernandez-del-Olmo, M. (2014). The role of mirror neurons in observational motor learning: An integrative review. European Journal of Human Movement, 32, 82-103. https://www.eurjhm.com/index.php/eurjhm/article/view/320
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