Dear Syncope..I paid it forward

An elderly man with his whole life in his backpack...he wore dress shoes with his tattered rags and walked with a cane...

An elderly blind woman,who's young assistant seemed to be high on Crack.

A young lovely woman blind in one eye...surrounded by lovely people..warm and attentive..she walked with a cane to balance herself

A Widow. She kept saying over and over that there was no reason anymore for her to be beautiful. she said there was no reason anymore for her to buy cute clothing. Before I could tell her any different...she hastily changed the subject,through tears,to her two chocolate Labradors.

I met the Elderly Gentleman going into the coffee shop this morning. My compadre seemed to not even notice and just sped past him...I couldn't figure out if he was coming in or what. I glanced behind me...and he was just standing up against a beam. I turn around once I was inside and he can barely open the door. so like any decent person I open the door. He picks out some juice and I tell him to go ahead. I thought of syncope I thought of how she drove that Homeless Woman to a shelter. I thought of how that made me want to be better. to be a better more pro-active person in general. So there he is with a tray loaded up with soup,coffee,juice, and a bagel. So I grab his tray and set it down for him. It wasn't much mind you. I didn't give him anything more...then concern...I paid attention..like He mattered. ok yeah he smelled like body odor and piss and beer. does that mean He doesn't deserve some respect?

do you want to be 75 years old and treated with hostility because you aren't buttoned up and walking normally?? My compadre was telling me a story of the Nicely Dressed Elderly Man she met the day before at her other job. I wanted to slap her (so much for love). Im so tired of the pretty people mythology.

All of these people seemed like messengers to me. We all have wounds. Unpleasantries that make us who we are. We have these things. You may not be able to see my blindness but it is there. You may not be able to see my grief but it is there. You may not be able to see the parts of me that cripple me...but it is all there.

It is in everyone. We walk around with crippling illnesses of the spirit,body,and mind. We cannot fully embrace eachother until we are willing to See. To See those things. that is real. that is love.

Thinking of my mom walking around her little urban hell in NY has opened my eyes. I look at people and I see someone's mother. someone's worry.

Listen to me..Can you imagine the stories that rest behind the eyes of strangers that you pass everyday??

syncope wrote about the same thing today...I thought of her all day. I couldn't wait to tell her..how she moved me.

Remember To Share...

those words...words spoken to me by my mother when I was a 4 year old....

just keep speaking to me...

Peace