Man and Child, Subway Turnstile

One of the realities of commuting via public transportation, is seeing several of the same faces day after day. Like the recurring background extras on an often watched television show, I can't help but take note of them. When taking the subway train, one of the pairs I enjoy observing is a father and daughter team.

He's usually dressed in a long sleeved dress shirt, a tie, dress slacks, carrying a slim messenger bag and his daughter's hot pink and purple colored backpack. She looks to be about 5 or 6, her braided hair gathered up at the ends in a little bun sitting neatly on the top of her head.

Every time I have seen them, the father hands her his metro card, she stands in front of the turnstile and swipes it through the card reader next to it. She then stands tiptoe to see the screen on the card reader that lets commuters know how much money is left on the card or, in some cases, when the card expires.

Now, in my experience, because the little children don't pay the fare, most usually duck under the turnstile to get to the train side.

But, without fail, as soon as this young lady is finished swiping, the father lifts her up over the turnstile, before pushing through himself.

I have often been able to see the expression on the little girl's face when lifted and have enjoyed watching her shy smile slowly transform into a delighted grin.

Nice work, sir.

This is one of the "little" things she'll remember fondly when she thinks back on this time in her life.

Encounter in the Natural World

So, I'm sitting on a bench at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, and suddenly, a baby robin flies over and lands near me. I am startled as the little bird cries out, opens its mouth, keeps it open and appears to be looking in my direction. Well, a few seconds later, mama Robin lands next to baby and she has a worm in her beak. She feeds baby Robin, pauses a bit (I'm thinking to figure out if I'm going to be a problem) and then flies away. So then I'm left with baby Robin. Baby Robin moves closer to me-- bold, brave, fearless and I guess still quite hungry--and I move away. The last thing I want is to get in the way of mama and baby Robin bonding or be perceived as a threat by mama Robin (she may not be visible to my eye but that doesn't mean she's not nearby). After a bit, baby Robin continues his/her journey and I once again take my seat. That was pretty cool and startling to witness up close and personal-- like I was watching something on the Nature channel 😃 And then a butterfly flew right by my face. I'm talking close enough for me to feel like, "Woah!"

What If There Were More Kisses?

What if there were more kisses? More heart felt, unconditional displays of affection?

This is what crossed my mind on the subway ride home after I saw an African American woman lean over and plant a kiss on the forehead of the little doppelgänger sitting next to her.

Immediately, a smile of surprise bloomed on the little girl's face and she paused in the act of playing with a pez dispenser to share an extended moment of affection with the woman.

She looked to be about 5 or 6, her braided hair adorned in white beads and a single orange bow. The orange color matched her pants and was replicated in some of the colored beads on her white open toed sandals, which in turn showcased glitter colored toe nail polish. Her top, a dark blue, long sleeved denim.

We journeyed together on that train for about 20 more stops and in that time I saw the woman, who I learned went by the name, "Mommy," kiss the little girl about 4 more times.

Touched my heart. Made me smile, and as I write this still makes me wonder, "What if there were more kisses?"

What can you do? Shine Your Light

What can you do? You breathe. Even in the midst of fear.  You breathe. Deeply, as best you can, even if tears are streaming down your cheeks. You tread as gently and as compassionately as you can even in the midst of rage-- yours and theirs. And you shine your light. You shine your light. You have a responsibility to that light. It's yours. It's sacred. You practice shining every opportunity you are provided with and you teach this in words, and if you can't speak, then in actions, and if you can't act, then in thoughts.  You practice and teach this to those you love. You allow yourself to pause. You allow yourself to check in with the intent of shining your light and sometimes you'll be surprised by your light because in the heat of it all you could have sworn there was no light to turn towards, no light to turn on. So, you check within, seeking your light and you allow however much of it you find, however much of it you connect to, to shine. That's how you reconnect to your strength. Now, don't get me wrong. You can shine your light and still feel the fear. If fear is on the scene, then fear is on the scene. But just because fear is there doesn't mean you can't shine your light in spite of the fear. You can shine your light. It doesn't really matter what the other person chooses to do. What matters is what you choose to do. You are the one walking in your shoes, surrounded by Friends who see the bigger picture because they've been with you since way back-- I'm talking way, way back, even before infancy.  We don't have access to all the puzzle pieces.  That bears repeating.  We don't have access to all the puzzle pieces.  But we can put together what we have and ask those same Friends to help in whatever way they can. Ask those same Friends to help us shine our lights in the best way possible-- specific to the specific situation--aligned with the best possible outcome for all involved.  We can shine our light. Fear wins when we allow it to incapacitate us or when we allow it to dim our lights. Acknowledging the fear, acknowledging that there is fear on the premises is one thing. Allowing it to be all we see and feel and breathe in and breathe out is a disservice to our spirit. Death comes in many forms-- some forms seemingly more permanent than others. So what can you do? Shine your light.  And sometimes? Sometimes, it will softly illuminate. And sometimes? Sometimes, it will blindly enlighten. Sometimes. But what it does is what it does. The part you play is being responsible for what you put out into the world. So get clear on your intention and no matter what comes, you shine your light. 

Shoes

These are not the shoes I wore to work this morning. These are not the shoes I wore from 7am to 5:55pm today. These are the shoes I purchased at 5:56pm from the Whole Body store in Chelsea because when I stepped outside my office building around 5:45, the sole on my left shoe decided to start falling/melting apart. I believe that the 90 degree temperature had a hand in it.

So from 5:45 to 5:56, I shuffled/dragged my left foot down the street and gave a silent prayer of thanks that Whole Body was nearby and that I remembered they had a small footwear section. I went to that section. I did that thing of deliberately searching the section about three times-- each time slower than the last-- just to be absolutely certain my size wasn't hidden in plain sight. It wasn't. Highly concerned, I turned away.

The next store with footwear was on 23rd and one avenue over. I was on 25th and couldn't fathom how I'd get there without having to succumb to walking barefoot on the hot city sidewalks and streets. Barefoot.  Bare. Foot. 

Looking around the store, perhaps a bit desperately, I saw a wall with a small selection of flip flops. I rarely wear flip flops in the city, so I hadn't even been thinking of flip flops. But in that moment, if I could find my size, guess who'd be going home in flip flops?

Size found, I shuffled over to the register. The young man who rung me up asked if I needed a bag. I declined stating they would be on my feet before I left the store as the ones I had on were not long for this world. He kindly got out the scissors, cut off the tags and then pointed me towards a section in the store where I could sit and make the exchange. Afterwards, new shoes on, old ones dropped of in the first trash can I located outside the store, I could once again walk the city streets and sidewalks with the pace of someone on a mission: the mission to get home.

I am grateful I found footwear. I am grateful I had the money to buy said footwear. I am grateful that if the sole had to come apart, it came apart where I could do something about it. I am seriously grateful