The young boy was sitting completely alone just outside of the ancient Byzantine walls of Rhodes, Greece. Setting up shop on an uneven scrap of torn cardboard, waiting for an audience amidst forgotten pieces of plastic garbage.
His musical instrument was battered and broken, missing buttons, missing keys. I’m pretty sure it had been salvaged from a trash pile. I’m pretty sure he had no idea how to play it.
My wife dropped some money into his nondescript tip container. The look of hurt on his face instantly transformed into a smile I’ll never forget — as he attempted to coax a few thankful sounds from his uncooperative accordion.
As we walked away, the young boy dropped his instrument. I saw him grab a single seashell from the pile of coral and beach debris he had artfully arranged on a second piece of cardboard adjacent to his little section of sidewalk stage. Then he chased after us, completely wordless; noiseless, just like his broken-down instrument.
He tugged at my wife’s hand and with the utmost of earnest pride, voicelessly, he offered her the seashell.
His eyes were so expressive, opened much wider than they had been, revealing an illuminating and profound depth his perma-squint against the Greek sunlight had previously been masking.
This unexpected interaction with the young accordion player completely affected the quality of our day, served as a reminder that there’s more to all of us than the first few glances by others are likely to ever reveal.
There’s always a way to foster a deeper and more meaningful connection between ourselves and those with whom we come into contact. We already have access to all of the tools and resources we need to change the way people see us, and our work, and the world around them.
We just need to put ourselves out there.