Connecting the Dots…Challenges, Chariots, Conversations, and Choices

    There are times when events are strung together which open your heart and soul to the connectedness of the human spirit.  Within a recent thirty six hour time span my focus sharpened as to how we as humans interact, trust, distrust and value one another. A Facebook post and three different events strung together challenged me to zoom in and look at the way I live my life. Upon my reflection I have connected the dots.

Two weeks ago a dear friend had asked me to attend her and her classmate’s dinner presentation at the culinary school that she is attending in New York City. Feeling honored and blessed to be asked my “yes” reply was instantaneously sent.

Dot One:  The morning of the dinner presentation this post from an intuitive friend was the first thing that appeared on my Facebook news feed:

Daily Dose of Deborah
Friday, November 7, 2014

Today spontaneously make a connection with a total stranger. Strike up a(n authentic) conversation with someone you meet- Ask them how they are. Ask them about themselves. Take interest in someone outside of your usual circle of family and friends.

So often we are so caught up in our own worlds, that we don't even take the time to acknowledge the community of people all around us. The clerks at the gas stations where you fill up your cars, has a story - a life.. most of it is probably very similar to YOURS. The conductors on the trains you travel on, have families , lives, tragedies, and celebrations.. JUST LIKE YOU DO. The professors at you schools, have deadlines and financial question marks running through their heads.. JUST LIKE YOU DO.

 Start looking around and seeing how similar we are. Notice how hard we are all working to survive. Reconnect with fact that we are all humans running around on this bouncing ball called earth. We are all more the same, than we are different.

 Feel the connection after you have reached out. Feel how good it is to get out of your own heads and simply connect!!

 IT's ALL about connecting!

<3

 Deborah...

 Deborah’s message tugged at my heart…..ledge the community of people all around us. The clerks at the gas stations where you fill up your cars, has a story - a life.. most of it is probably very similar to YOURS. The conductors on the trains you travel on , have families , lives, tragedies, and celebrations.. JUST LIKE YOU DO. The professors at you schools, have deadlines and financial question marks running through their heads.. JUST LIKE YOU DO.

Start looking around and seeing how similar we are. Notice how hard we are all working to survive. Reconnect with fact that we are all humans running around on this bouncing ball called earth. We are all more the same, than we are different.

Feel the connection after you have reached out. Feel how good it is to get out of your own heads and simply connect!!
IT's ALL about connecting!

,
Deborah

 Dot Two: When group travel plans fell apart the night before the culinary school event I decided to drive to a park and ride in New Jersey, take a bus to the city and a taxi to the school. According to the bus schedule I was to arrive in the city an hour and a half before the event. That would be plenty of time to get to the school, or so I thought.  Friday night traffic sucked away half of my time buffer. The taxi line in the front of the Port Authority was twenty plus people deep.  I stood there for fifteen minutes and only one taxi arrived.  My time cushion was deflating!

  There was a casually dressed man asking the people on line where they were going. I overheard him giving advice to someone as to which subway to take as an alternate to a taxi.  I thought this was his job to hail taxis and coordinate transportation for the patrons. 

  He approached me and asked where I was going. 

 “48W 21^st Street” I replied.

 “Between 6^th and 7^th Avenue” he said. “You want to take a bike taxi?” as he pointed to the bicycle on the street corner with a tarp covered rickshaw seat attached to the back.  Not really my style I thought and how safe could this be?

 “How long will it take to get there?” I asked

 “About eighteen minutes.” 

  I looked at my watch again.  I had a half hour to spare.  I looked over at the bike and I figured why not, give it a shot! Sometimes you just have to believe that what is presented to you in a moment of need is a gift, and go with it. 

  I climbed into the back seat and he zipped the canvas tarp around me. He stood upright on the peddles and pressed down in an effort to garner all of his leg strength and off we went.  I wondered how much energy it must take to cart my body around the streets of New York City.  

 

 The only thing separating me from the cars and trucks zooming beside was that canvas tarp covering with cloudy plastic as my windows. There were neither shock absorbers nor any heat.   I trusted that he knew how to safely navigate the streets. I had trusted him with a lot.  During a stop at a traffic light he turned and yelled back to me

“How are you doing back there?” 

 “Great” I said.

  He pointed to a shop on the corner “Look over there.  There are puppies in the window.  They are so cute.  You want one?”

  I couldn’t see through the cloudiness of the plastic but I shouted back.  “Awwww, they are so cute, but I think I will pass tonight.” As he started peddling I suddenly began laughing at the vibrancy of this life experience.

 We arrived at my destination.  The driver pulled the nose of the bike between two parked cars.  “Exactly eighteen minutes” he said. 

  I paid the fare, exited my chariot and began rushing towards my destination.  Suddenly I stopped, turned and took a picture of the vehicle and the stranger that I trusted to deliver me safely.

  Dot Three: Once within the culinary school I was directed to the seating for the family and friends of the students.  I surveyed the room for a familiar face but there were none to be found.  There was an older couple seated at the end of a long rectangular table.  The gentleman motioned to me and said my friend’s name.  He asked if I was there for her.  Unbeknownst to me these were my friend’s parents.  I took a seat beside them and we began a magical evening of food and conversation.

  I shared with them my chariot story.   And I realized that my efforts not to be late yielded me the prized seat beside the parents of my friend. Our conversations meandered from cooking to children to sports to common friends and to travel.

  My friend’s Dad shared his travel experiences.  One of his comments struck me, he said

  “As Americans we are afraid to open our doors and hearts to others.  While in Italy I was taken on a back room tour of a restaurant kitchen by the owner.  In Ireland after a night of partying and drinking I was invited back to the bartender’s home for a cup of tea.  In America neither of those events would ever happen.  The truth is we are fearful of one another and the unknown.”

  He was right.  In unknown situations or in the company of strangers American’s defenses are heightened. We latch onto fear first.  Our Trust and compassion are seated at the back of the bus. Forget connecting with some aspect within the stranger as my friend Deborah had written about earlier in the day.

Dot Four: The next day I was grocery shopping in Walmart.  While shopping I decided what I was making for dinner.  I needed a loaf of good Italian bread.  I am not a fan of Walmart’s bakery so I decided to go to Stop and Shop for the bread and a few other fresh ingredients.  A Saturday visit to Stop and Shop was very out of the ordinary for me. 

 When I entered the store I went directly to the baked goods.  As I reached the bread rack there was an older gentleman leaning over his shopping cart asking another shopper and her son to bag six fresh bagels for him. I thought that they were shopping together but as his ramblings continued I realized that they did not know one another.

  “Oh, I am so stupid!  What was I thinking? I’m never going to be able to get home!” The older man rambled.  “I’m dying….I can’t make it home! I’m dying, I’m so stupid!”

  My back was towards him as I focused on which loaf of bread I wanted.  But his words pierced me. I took in all that he was saying.   I could have turned to my left and continued on my way, but I turned towards my right and looked this man in the eye.  He must have been in his late sixties or early seventies.  He was close to six feet tall, heavy set with a red faced speckled with brown spots.  His movements were labored and his clothes were disheveled.  In his shopping cart was a gallon of milk, two, two liter bottles of soda, a twelve pack of toilet paper and the six bagels that the other customer bagged for him.

 I heard myself saying, “Sir, are you okay?”

“No!” He was agitated. “I’m dying. I don’t know what I was thinking I walked here, but I can barely breathe. I don’t know how I am going to get home. I’m dying” And then he asked “Will you drive me home.  It is not that far?”

Without processing or thinking and simply reacting I said “Yes, but I have a few more things to pick up.”

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll check out and wait in the front of the store for you” he turned and leaning heavily on his cart for support made his way to the cashier.

 In produce section my mind began to spin.  While deciding between button and shitake mushrooms my inner voice began screaming at me.  “What, are you crazy?  You were always taught not to pick up hitchhikers or strangers.  This is dangerous!  What would your parents think? You would be mad as hell if your daughter did this?  Just put the groceries down and slip out of the side door and get out of there!” But then the voice of compassion chimed in “This could be your Dad.  Wouldn’t you want someone to help him?”

  I began connecting the dots.  Dot one; I recalled Deborah’s words from the day before about connecting with a stranger. Dot two; what was different between this situation and me getting into that bicycle taxi last night?  I didn’t know that man yet I trusted him to peddle me around the streets of NYC with nothing more than a tarp separating me from the traffic perils and he delivered me safely to my destination. Dot three; my friends Father’s statement echoed in my mind.  “As American’s our first reaction to strangers is fear.”

 I stood facing the fourth dot.  The point of decision, do you connect with a stranger or do you run away in fear? I turned and headed towards the cash registers at the front of the store with the belief that all is as it was to be. He was waiting for me as he said he would be.   With the inner voice of doubt chirping at me in the background I told him to wait for me at the store entrance.  I had parked my car at the outer edges of the lot and there was no need for him to walk that distance. He agreed.

  As I neared my car I decided to not only put my groceries in the third row seat but I would also put my pocketbook there.  By doing so it would be inaccessible to grab quickly.  In the same moment I decided to place my cell phone in the front pocket of the hooded sweatshirt I was wearing.  It was connected to the blue tooth device in my car. I could operate my phone by voice if needed.  These actions were guided by fear, innate fear, and the general distrust of others.  I drove my car to the front of the store, opened the door for my passenger to enter and loaded his groceries into my vehicle. These actions were guided by compassion.

  I would be lying to say that I did not have my doubts as I drove this man home.  I had devised an escape plan in my mind….a fear driven one at that.  Did he ask me for money, yes, and with his promise to repay it on Tuesday. I told him I couldn’t he didn’t ask again. Part of me just wanted to give him a few dollars, but the other part of me said that I was providing what he needed at this moment.  His home was a little over a mile from the store.  There was no way he could have carried his purchases home with him. 

   I pulled into his driveway, exited the car and handed him his grocery bags.  He didn’t want me to carry them to the front door.  Weighed down by his purchases he said “Thank you, you are and angel.”  He turned and walked toward the front door of his neglected home.

 I am humbled by the events of these thirty six hours.  Each and every one of us is part of the community; it is called the human race. Let us continue to connect the dots of our existence.  May our compassionate hearts lead the way, and fear, well, let it sit in the backseat of your bumpy chariot from this moment forward.