The 'daily grind' is taken to an entirely new level here. Everyone seems on a mission to get to where they're going, to get their next big deal, to close the next sale or to meet their next appointment. The pace is intoxicating to me and it's as if my mental battery pack charges up each time I step out the door. But, it can also be exhausting. You don't have to look far to see tired, downtrodden faces in this city. And sometimes, in the case of last night's subway ride, it can be absolutely heart-breaking.
There are no pictures in this post because I simply don't have pictures. I don't have pictures of the tear drops that filled my eyes, spilling over with reserve. I don't have a picture of the man who I felt absolutely helpless to help.
I sat sandwiched between the squishy winter layers of coats, fleeces, hats and scarves that pinned me in on either side. Yesterday was New York's first snowfall of the season and while truly magical for me and for many, the winter months bring on an entirely different reality for many New York residents who do not have a cozy apartment to return home to. What would it feel like to be homeless during New York's first snow fall? Something so enchanting to me must put a pit of fear and anxiety into the stomachs of so many others.
The subway doors opened, and in hobbled a man on his hands. Tears are filling my eyes even now as I think of him. He had no legs and was scooting along on his nub-wrapped jeans, balancing on one hand as the other grasped a rusted tin coffee container, jingling with its few lonely pieces of change. As he got closer, I could see that he was also blind. How was I so fortunate to have been born in to this world with the life that I have and this sweet man blind with no legs? I was swept away with sadness and an overwhelming wave of humility. The kind of humility that punches you right in the stomach and literally takes your breath away. Troubles that seemed like they had any actual significance disintegrate when you're slapped around by perspective.
My hands went immediately to my wallet and I tossed a few dollar bills in his tarnished can. Because they didn't jingle, I don't know if he even realized they were there. One of the stories that always grabbed my heart about the compassion of Jesus Christ was when he touched the lepers to heal them, and in doing so, didn't just touch their bodies, but touched their souls. What an act of compassion and understanding to know how much we need touch to fee loved. I wonder how long this man has gone without feeling the warmth of another human being on his skin. Does anyone hold him? Hug him? Kiss him on the cheek? All of these thoughts came flooding into my conscious thought, and all I could do was cry. I wanted to reach out, touch my humanity to his shoulder and place my heart full of compassion, sorrow and love on his tattered denim jacket. But I didn't. I froze as he scooted along, paralyzed by not knowing what to do, how to help, what to feel, and wondering how he wasn't somehow in a shelter, laughing with old friends and slurping up a bowl of warm noodle soup.
At times like these my emotions are full. I feel helpless and don't know how to be the difference. I think all of humanity comes close with things like these. Normally, tired, expressionless people on the subway stare blankly as the daily multitude of the homeless come in and out of trains asking for money. As this sweet man jangled down the aisle, hands quickly went into pockets and compassion was felt and shared, like a visible force that radiated through all of the people on the train yesterday. We all seemed to feel the same weight of undeserved privilege, no matter what our exact situation was.
As people, we are called to love. A mentor of mine has told me many times that I am on this earth for two reasons, and for two reasons alone: to learn and to love. I believe yesterday was more of a learning experience for me, but it was a learning experience in how I can love more, and how in a world of common indifference, that we can all have a grateful heart and be reminded to be the difference.
