Four on the Streets of Flatbush

On what would become a rainy weekday morning, as dawn groggily rolled out of bed and began to light heaven's lamps across the sky, making their way across the street, the female guardian held the hand of one child, while a slightly older sibling held the hand of the other.  But suddenly, as they neared the sidewalk, the older sibling and his young partner, broke out into a run, whose driving force appeared to be simply for the pure enjoyment and exhilaration to be found in the experience. Behind them, still in the street, the female guardian and her little one maintained their pace. The guardian probably thinking nothing of the impromptu race, her mind perhaps filled with adult type or caregiver concerns, while the little one by her side either wishing he had been an active participant or content in his role as a spectator deriving a quiet joy from simply  bearing witness.

I know I derived a quiet joy from simply bearing witness :)

Consciousness in Action on the Downtown No. 5 Train

The downtown No. 4 train was packed.

When I got on, I glanced around for a place to sit.

The couple who boarded before me were each navigating large pieces of luggage but managed to find an area to stand in front of a seated family of four.  The family was comprised of a female guardian, a male guardian, a young boy, possibly, 4/5/6 years of age, and a young girl, possibly, 5/6 years of age, sitting on the male guardian's lap.  The young boy was sitting very close to the female guardian and absently twirling a lock of her shoulder length brown hair in his right hand.

"Would you like to sit?" The female guardian adjusted her glasses as she spoke to the couple with the luggage.

The couple declined.

"Are you sure? We just have two more stops?"

Again, the couple declined, this time, smiling and verbalizing their, "Thanks."

I tuned out but not before filing away the thought, 'I don't believe I have ever witnessed someone with young children offer up their seat to someone else before. I'm sure it happens, case in point, but I don't remember seeing it before.'

With that in mind, I settled into my standing position next to a pole.  Wrapping my left arm around it for additional balance, I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander as the train closed its doors and continued the journey to the next stop.

A few minutes later, I tuned back into the world around me when I heard some laughter followed by a sound of displeasure. Once again I found myself observing the family of four.

Something had occurred that had the little boy laughing and the female guardian untangling his hand from her hair. It appeared that the male guardian hadn't seen what occurred but echoed the boy in laughter.

"You're laughing," the woman addressed the man, exasperated. "But he just clocked me in the face."

Suddenly serious, the man looked at the boy. "You don't clock Mommy in the face."

Undoubtedly triggered by the word, "clock" and the seriousness with which it was delivered, the little boy started laughing again.

"It's not funny," the mother replied. She didn't raise her voice.  But there was also nothing passively aggressive in her statement or demeanor.  She was calm, focused and completely serious. "You have to apologize."

"Sorry, Mommy," the boy replied, traces of amusement still coloring his expression.

Steadily watching her son's face, the mother shook her head and repeated, "No, you have to apologize."

"Sorry, Mommy," the boy said again, this time with the humor gone, but eyes withholding contact.

"No," the mother repeated. "You have to apologize and mean it."

A few moments of silence passed, and then the boy looked over at her, and made eye contact. "Sorry, Mommy."

All this time, throughout this interaction, the Father has been quiet but completely focused on the exchange.

Once again, although this time unprompted, the boy repeated, "Sorry, Mommy," and something about this final one convinced her and she accepted his apology.

After a brief moment, the father raises his right hand, and a few seconds later, the mother meets it with her left, culminating in a gentle high five.

I loved it. I loved everything about this interaction. I loved how the mother stayed on topic with her son. I loved that she patiently waited for him to transition from humor to connecting to the seriousness of the situation.  I loved that although the father was quiet, he was very present to what was happening and his support of her was crystal clear. I loved the gentle high five. To me it said, 'Good work. I support you. We're in this together. Team Parents, Go!' I loved that even when the child saw the initial humor, both parents patiently held space for the seriousness of the situation.  One didn't blow it off. Neither blew it off.  Neither party came across as frustrated.  Neither party emotionally or physically threatened the child.  And the length of the journey taken to communicate the seriousness of the situation didn't feel rushed.  The child said sorry a number of times, but the mother knew the difference in those notes and waited for the one that rang as the most conscious.

I loved witnessing it all.

Observation on the sidewalk in Brooklyn

Above me, night steadily carpeted the sky. I had left work about an hour before, and now, after a 45 minute train ride, I was at the Junction, awaiting the bus, awaiting the start of the final leg on my journey home.

Standing in a sea of people, I glanced down the street, hoping for a sign of the bus.  I stretched my neck, I leaned forward, I leaned backwards, I watched others play out a variation on this theme. Time passed, but still no bus.

A mother and her young daughter wove their way through the crowd.  It was the young girl who initially caught and held much of my attention.

Smartly dressed, her accessories included a black winter hat, a white knit chunky infinity scarf, and stylish ankle length brown suede boots.  If I had to guess her age, I'd seesaw between Kindergartner or First grader.

Swaying slightly from side to side, clearly engaged in the solitary playful exchange prevalent in most of her generation-- that oftentimes inevitable exchange with an invisible other,-- she made me smile.   I watched her wiggle and dance in place, with her left hand in her mother's right, and in her right hand, almost prize like, a cookie still housed in its clear plastic. She cradled that cookie in a manner that told me she would savor it when the first opportunity presented itself.

Daughter's hand firmly in her grasp, her mother's singularly focused attention was on crossing the street against the light.

Watching as they made their way across, mother, keenly vigilant, daughter blissfully unaware but feeling safe and free to dance and play, I thought of my own mother and how, many, many, many years ago, we two, on countless occasions, must have been engaged in the same living tableau.

On Target in Target

Target. On a weekend. Even the self checkout stations had a long queue.

Glancing back to where I stood in the regular line, I noticed that the customer in front of me had unloaded her shopping cart items onto the conveyor belt and then abandoned said cart.  Directly in the path of customers still awaiting checkout. Of which I was numero uno. 

I looked at her now abandoned cart, seeing its great potential at leading a double life as a pedestrian roadblock.  I looked back at the customer who paid me no mind, engaged as she was in conversation with the cashier. So I made a choice.  I had hands, and I knew what I was about to do wouldn't negatively affect anyone around me.  And so, setting peace as the intention, I chose to get out of line and push the cart a ways away to where it couldn't even entertain a short stint as a human speed bump.

Then I got back in line behind the customer just as the cashier was telling her about available bargains, if she were so inclined, on one of her purchases.

The customer never noticed that her shopping cart had been moved. But I did notice feeling a little better.

As she was finishing with that transaction, the cashier looked up at me, and made eye contact. Then treating me to a warm smile, said, "Hello!"

Instinctively, I found myself meeting her in that warm energetic space with a, "Hi!" of my own. That's when I realized I was interacting with a very present, making-the-best-of-it-in-this-our-given-circumstances young lady.  

Perhaps it's because I'm a Supervisor in a Customer Service position, but during any outside of work customer service interaction, I'm always so appreciative of those who are not only doing the work but are also choosing to be present and engaging. I get that it can be hard and, in the case of cashiers, they're on their feet for their entire shift and interacting with all manner of energies. But when one chooses to be present, chooses to defeat the temptation called, autopilot, I have found it makes it easier to make peace with how long the race to the front of the line feels.

As if reading my mind, she then asked, "Did you have to wait a long time?"

"It was long-- well it felt long, but-- it was okay."

And then, with unexpected empathy, she replied, "I'm really sorry about that."  

"That's okay," I heard myself say.  "In fact," I added, "What helps is you smiled, connected and said hello."

"I wish more people reacted that way," she said, almost wistfully.  She was still smiling, as she turned off her cashier light to signal she was close to the end of her shift. 

Then after letting the customer behind me know she would be her last one, she continued.  "I've had people get upset or not respond or threaten that they would be contacting corporate because they've been waiting in line for a long time.  They see these empty registers and they don't realize they're not working. Trust me, if I could make them all work, I would!"

"Well, again," I automatically found myself saying, "I know I appreciate the fact that you chose to connect with me."

I had learned something new.  The idea that there were registers that didn't work had never crossed my mind before. In the past, anytime I had found myself wondering which of the long lines I would join, 9 times out of 10, i thought that the reasons they were so long was because Target had cut down on its employees. 

"I saw you getting out of line earlier and thought you were leaving," she said as I finished paying and was retrieving my debit card from the chip reader.

"Ha. Yeah. No. The lady ahead of me left her shopping cart and I needed to move it to activate my peace of mind."

We laughed.

And with that, we were at the end of the interaction.  She wished me a good day.  I thanked her for her help and left Target thinking how lovely that interaction was.

I didn't get her name but I know I'll recognize her when next I see her.

You Were Made For This by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

You Were Made For This by Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Jan. 28th, 2008)

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.
One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these -- to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.
There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate. [...]
In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.
--Clarissa Pinkola Estes

I Woke Up this Morning

I went to bed last night a person who believes in love. I went to bed last night a person who tries to be a better, kinder person in action and in thoughts. I went to bed last night a person whose moral default strives to be conscious and empower myself and others from a place of consciousness.  I went to bed last night a person who believes in compassion, in respect, and in playing my part to the best of my abilities in this massive stage production of comedy-tragedy-theatre-of-the-absurd-theatre-of-cruelty-fantasy-adventure-musical-drama called life. I woke up this morning and although I am still that person, there have been changes.  Some old characters now have more prominent roles and the stakes appear higher than ever.  But looking within, I, too, see I have been visited by change.  And this a change I welcome wholeheartedly. This internal change is to now pursue my aforementioned objectives with greater passion and unwavering focus. My circumstances don't have to define me-- ultimately, I get to define me. Along the way, there may be tears, feelings of anger, bewilderment, frustration, but I will always, always,  return to love.  I will always, always, champion, love.

Sock Limbo

I have several pairs of socks that incrementally slide down my ankles only to bunch up at base of my heels.  I know this to be case as I've often experienced it when one sock is doing it and the other pair is not. Over the weekend, I decided to really take the time to match up my socks.  This meant putting together the pairs that like to do the limbo with my ankles.  Today, I put on one of these special pairs and sure enough they've slid down to the base of my heels.  I did this to myself😜

A Marvelous Start to a Monday!

Once upon a time, a lady who depended on public transportation to get to work, left her house about 9 minutes later than usual.  As she had good reason, she made peace with her delay and hoped for the best.  And so, with backpack on and plastic bags in each hand, she exited her home.

One bag held extra items for the day including her lunch and snacks.  The other two bags held the trash and plastic containers for recycling. Dropping off the latter bags, she unlocked the front gate, walked through, and locked it behind her.

Given the fact that the bus stop was about a seven minute walk from where she lived, and it was a cold Fall morning, and she had headed out later than usual, she began to speed walk.  As she walked, she put on her headphones, downloaded the latest episode of a podcast, and pressed play to listen an already downloaded episode of another frequently listened to podcast.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bus driver exiting a store.  She had just passed his off schedule bus parked near the sidewalk she was currently traveling on.  Suddenly, and very much to her surprise, the bus driver called out to her.

"Good morning! Come on, I'll give you a ride."

She stopped in her tracks, podcast still playing in her ears, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

"Really?!" She asked, all the while fumbling to turn off the recording.

She missed some of his answer, but caught up as he said, "You're going to the Junction, right?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed in awe of this unexpected gift of kindness and generosity. "Yes! Thank you so much!"

She quickly got on the bus and sat down.  Then she changed her mind and went to stand next to the glass casing enclosing the bus driver.  The combination of the glass and the volume of the driver made it difficult to truly engage in conversation. But she asked him if he was just starting or ending his shift.

"Starting," he said. "I wish I was finishing."

"Well, I hope this turns out to be a truly wonderful shift for you," she replied still tickled at being given a lift to the train station.

She watched as the bus driver passed the stop she would have been waiting at, and recognized the lone man waiting for the bus-- a bus which was probably still 15 to 20 minutes away.

She watched as the bus driver efficiently navigated the street path next to the sidewalk path she would walk on occasion to get to the subway station--about a 30 to 45 minute walk.

Finally, the bus driver pulled over to let her off.  She thanked him.  She thanked him with heartfelt gratitude.  She thanked him for making her "heart beam at such unexpected kindness."

He smiled, saying, "Anytime" and wished her a good day.

Still beaming, the lady made her way to the train station, got on her train and made it to work at what would be her normal arrival time had she not left the house later than usual.

When she got to work, she thought, 'What a marvelous start to the week! What a marvelous start to a Monday!'