perception

I’m not particularly sure why I’ve expressed an affinity for social causes lately. 

 

Last week there was this annoying construction project on Broad Street so I decided to take a route I don’t normally travel to get to the triplex. I was stopped at a light when an older woman started yelling at me and walking toward my car. I had no idea what she was saying. The light changed and people began honking for me to go, so I pulled over to the side of the road.

 

As she came closer I noticed that she was struggling to walk with an old cane and that there was some plastic thing sticking out of her arm. She told me that her car broke down and she needed to get to chemotherapy. I asked her where she needed to go, which she apparently mistook for an invitation into my vehicle. I said that I couldn’t take her and handed her some cash. I told her that there was store on the corner where she could buy bus tokens, but to do whatever she needed to do with the money.

 

What is it in me that allowed me to completely trust this woman?

 

Last month my uncle passed away from lymph node cancer. I remember seeing the portal in his arm. This woman had two of them. I couldn’t imagine someone making that up.   

 

I was trying to draw a parallel between this experience and the public outpouring of support for victims of hurricane Katrina.

 

People have no problem donating a dollar to these people in need because their misfortune is the result of a natural disaster. Simply put, it isn’t their fault.

 

Does this mean that they are any more or less in need that the woman I encountered on the street? I suppose it’s all a matter of perception.

 

I drove off in my car, picked up the rent checks and went to Whole Foods to get some lunch, but I couldn’t get the woman off of my mind. It was a warm day so I grabbed an extra bottle of water, hopped in my car and headed back there for her. Sadly, there was a part of me that suspected she would still be there, but she wasn’t…and that made me smile. Even if she was it wouldn’t have mattered much to me. She obviously needed something.

 

 

 

“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”

- William Shakespeare

persolvo pretium: my take on existentialism

Looking back on the past few weeks of my life, I find myself asking the question “what the hell was that all about?”

 

I’m sure this wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time that I have felt this way…experiencing emotions from as high as wanting to sing every love song that came on country radio to as low as wondering if I got in my car and just started driving, if anyone would actually miss me.

 

I am in a perpetual state of trying to make sense of the world. Sometimes I have to force myself not to think, just so I can sleep at night. Being in class two nights a week has really sent my mind into overload.

 

Last week we were talking about Existentialism. Straight out of the dictionary, it is a philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe, regards human existence as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of one's acts.

 

I’m not sure if I’m entirely in agreement with the premises of Existentialism, but I’ve been able to put my own spin on it…which may be completely off from anything that it represents, but it’s what I have taken away from it and it’s helpful to me so that’s all that really matters.

 

No doubt that in life, shit will happen.

1) It just gets harder when you ask why.

2) Consequences: you must pay the price for your actions.

What I learned from Wanda

I would venture to say that it’s the catholic guilt instilled in me which is compelling me to share this story:

 

I took the train to New York last Friday. The train was packed and I was forced to share a seat. I sat down next to a woman and soon after she asked me for a piece of gum. I handed it to her and proceeded to pull out an article I needed to read for class. After three sentences she began talking to me. She had literally just gotten out of the hospital and was carrying bags of clothes back to her home in Plainfield. All I could think was damn, I picked the wrong seat. She would not shut up, going on and on about her life, her family, her illness.

 

Every time I thought we were finished and I resumed reading she started in again. Then I thought a little bit about the content of the article I was trying to read, about the history of therapeutic recreation, which began by and large in hospitals. I took this as a sign. I put my book away and started to ask her questions. She showed me the art projects she had completed during her hospital stay, offered me her magazine, gave me her phone number and told me to call her some time.

 

I shared my story this evening during class. The professor responded by telling me that I probably learned more from that encounter than from reading the article. I think he is right.

 

It’s pretty damn cool that my interaction with this woman got me some bonus points in class, but that is above and beyond what I took away from the experience.

 

This might sound a little strange, but when I am walking down the street and a homeless person asks me for spare change I try to see God in that person. I try to see someone who is a brother or a sister to someone because that person probably has a family. That person is a daughter or a son to someone. I try to see the good in all people and the value of human life. And to be honest with you, I felt a little bit ashamed that initially I was very annoyed by this woman speaking to me.

 

I don’t mean to get all religious or spiritual on ya’ll, but it is a part of who I am and I'm not ashamed to admit it.