The past two years have been a busy time for therapists. While we have hustled to support our clients through the lockdown, we have also struggled to care for ourselves during a time when the need for our services has been so great. Starting to feel our own burnout, when we saw a half-price travel deal to Bermuda, we jumped and booked a 30th wedding anniversary celebration. The break was a welcome change of scenery, a chance to unplug and explore a beautiful place. We returned to work last week, rested, restored and refreshed.

Afterwards, as we pondered the trip, we realized our favorite part of Bermuda was the taxi drivers! Because of where we stayed on the island, we needed to travel by taxi to get to shops and restaurants. Each day we spent long spells in the back of taxi vans, listening to relaxing music from the 1970’s and chatting with the affable old drivers, all of whom had been raised and lived on the island for much of their lives. They zipped through the narrow streets on the left hand side of the road (Bermuda is a British commonwealth which means driving on the left), barely missing stone walls, trucks barreling toward us on the right, scooters swinging around us when the traffic slowed.

If one had a touch of anxiety, these rides would be highly stressful! To manage our stress, we focused on the views: the pastel colored houses with clean white limestone roofs and the azure waters of the ocean. But the true antidote to our anxiety was the 60-something-year-old cab drivers who were peaceful, careful in their driving, and patient tour guides at all times. If we had to stop for traffic or construction, there was no annoyance or even a touch of road rage; just an acceptance of the fact that “we will get there when we get there.” They noted the beautiful color of the water, swung into overlooks to point out spectacular beaches and always noted with delight the “smallest drawbridge in the world” as we passed over it.

These guys were fonts of wisdom. They talked about the history of the island, the economics, the politics, the changes in the culture over time. While it felt like an island paradise to us, Bermuda has not been spared hard times. The cabbies shared with us the impacts of 9/11, how they had weathered the pandemic, how the island had survived massive hurricanes. But the thing that stood out, besides their vast wisdom and knowledge about this island world, was their warmth, kindness, friendliness. The only honking that took place was a short friendly “beep” when they passed another taxi driver whom they knew.

(Gerald:) They reminded me of my grandfather who lived his entire life in Charleston, S.C., working in a sawmill, walking to and from work every day. He always talked to his neighbors, engrossed in connecting without regard for the fact that supper was waiting on the table. They also reminded me of my sister-in-law’s father, who grew up in the Dominican Republic and worked managing a banana farm before moving to Charleston, where he painted houses (not pictures of houses but actual houses!) into his 80’s.

All of these older men shared commonalities in the way they approached their work and the ways they related to family, friends and strangers.

They were fully present, fully “in the flow,” a state that we therapists try to help our anxious and distracted clients achieve.

These were strong but gentle men.

They were fully human, connecting without judgment, through shared experiences.

They had a passion for their work.

They had a sense of humor about life and didn’t sweat the small stuff.

They were excellent listeners, always deepening and following the conversation wherever it might go.

What was the “secret sauce”? Could it be that they were all closely connected to nature? Was it the type of work they did? Or simply the wisdom that comes with age? The truth was probably some combination of these things.

But the key seemed to be they had been raised where the norm was to be kind and respectful of their fellow humans.

We hopped in the cabs like clients walking into a therapy office, a bit nervous and not sure where we were going. Like a good therapist, the cab drivers were calm and knowledgeable and helped us feel relaxed and safe. They communicated, “I know these streets. I will keep you safe. You will be OK.”

(Gerald:) When we arrived home and I was doing therapy my first day back, I thought, “How can I be more like a Bermuda cab driver?”

Breathe.
Be present.
Notice nature.
Laugh easily.
Appreciate the things we have in common as human beings.
And as our cabbie Kevin explained, “My mama always said, ‘It’s nice to be nice.’”