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cogs, originally uploaded by Witty Screen Name.

Yesterday, on my drive to Sandy's, I saw a man with a grocery cart filled with bags of cans. He went into a bus stop shelter. I drove a little further, turned around, and went into the convenience store next to the bus stop. I got a coffee, and an already-prepared egg/cheese/bacon sandwich with hash browns wrapped in foil. When I went outside to give the man the food, he was no where in sight. His vacant cart with wisps of bags tied to the handle was tucked next to a nearby fence.

I thought maybe he was down in the culvert, perhaps going to the bathroom. I imagined what it must be like to protect your bags of carefully collected cans worth five cents a piece. I imagined him in the muddy, frigid culvert, and the bags of cans there with him.

After a few moments, I called out "Sir?" The food in my hands was still warm. "Sir?" I climbed down as far I as I dared to peer into the culvert. No one. I walked back up and then behind the convenience store. I read a sign: "Redemption Center" and then another one: "Closed." It is possible he had come some distance just to find the redemption center closed, and now he is on his way to another center. I imagine he knows where they are all located. I left the food in the cart.

Shame on me.

If I had the intention to share with him, I should have asked him first. I should have asked him to come in with me.

And why was I afraid to go down into the culvert? What could have happened that this man with several layers of bulky clothes and a bunch of bags of cans would feel threatening to me?

My giving is a high percentage of my "mutable income" (which is two mites), but my giving is also erratic. I want to have a more stable financial picture so I can give more consistently and more effectively.

I will still give what is free. That's easy.

Later, as I was falling asleep, my subconscious brought some levity: Sue B as a "poor" graduate student told me a story about her weekend. She had befriended the man who scouted her neighborhood for returnables. I'll call him Sam. A few days after hosting a party, she greeted him on her neighborhood's recycle pick-up day.

"Sam! Check it out!" She opened her garage door and revealed the jackpot of returnables from the party. She described the smile on his face.

"I have two words for you, Samantha: safe and tea. That's right: Safety."

Extra points if you are not Jen(n) G. and you know where the quote in the title comes from.

The inspiration?

My mom sent me, in a single email, info about my cousin having a baby AND how to avoid car-jackings.  She's funny.  Juxtaposition is an art.

In other news, and in all seriousness, I feel bad for a little kid who I don't know.  He was with this woman who asked me for money yesterday to "get a bus ticket home to Rhode Island."  Apparently, I was hoodwinked; my friend said this woman is out there all the time with the same story, and the kid flanking her side.  It doesn't bother me that she conned me.  I mean, I do hope she uses the money for food.  I'm a fool if she doesn't.  And that means I've perpetuated a problem.  

But something I can't stop thinking about is this kid.  

What can I do.

cool loneliness

blue light, originally uploaded by Witty Screen Name.

"Usually we regard loneliness as an enemy. Heartache is not something we choose to invite in. It’s restless, pregnant, and hot with the desire to escape and find something or someone to keep it company. When we can rest in the middle, we begin to have a nonthreatening relationship with loneliness, a relaxing and cooling loneliness that completely turns our usual fearful patterns upside down.

There are six ways of describing this kind of cool loneliness. They are: less desire, contentment, avoiding unnecessary activity, complete discipline, not wandering in the world of desire, and not seeking security from one’s discursive thoughts. [...]

Cool loneliness allows us to look honestly and without aggression at our own minds. We can gradually drop our ideals of who we think we ought to be, or who we think we want to be, or who we think other people think we want to be or ought to be. We give it up and just look directly with compassion and humor at who we are. Then loneliness is no threat and heartache, no punishment.

When you wake up in the morning and out of nowhere comes the heartache of alienation and loneliness, could you use that as a golden opportunity? Rather than persecuting yourself or feeling that something terribly wrong is happening, right there in the moment of sadness and longing, could you relax and touch the limitless space of the human heart? The next time you get a chance, experiment with this.

--Pema Chodron, from "When Things Fall Apart"

Cafe in Johnson, VT, originally uploaded by Witty Screen Name.

wink

wink, originally uploaded by Witty Screen Name.

Main Street, Election Night Celebrations

Main Street, Burlington, Vermont - Photo by Brett Lufer

It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Never, in my adult life, have I felt this proud of being an American.

Although, along with the great, amazing, wave of joy and the sense of possibility, there was devastation, too: CA voters approved Proposition 8 banning same sex marriages.

Now the work begins. I want to do my part.