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August 19, 2009
Happy Birthday
Everything in life is either a blessing or an offering. Sometimes they are both.
I was on may way home from doing some shopping at Whole Foods. A heavy backpack on my back, a full canvas bag hanging from the crook of my left arm, and a fruit smoothie in my left hand. A classic New York scene. I was standing at the corner of 7th Avenue and 23rd Street waiting for the light to change. The woman next to me, shouted “EXCUSE ME!” She appeared to be shouting at the whole city. I hadn’t seen her in my periphery, but that’s part of living in New York. Usually I shrug my eyes and say to my inside self “Ehh, another crackpot New Yorker”. But this time something struck me. I turned to discover that I was the only one who acknowledged her cry, and she was clearly deprived of eyesight and was walking with a white cane.
I asked her if I could help. She said yes, and I grabbed her arm to help her cross the street.
“No dear, this is how we do it. Fold your arm at the elbow and let me grab your forearm.” We linked.
I started across the street. She stopped me instantly. “No dear, we must wait for the light.”
I shared her pause, and said “The light is green, and the red hand is not flashing yet. We are safe to go”. We started to cross.
“No, no, dear, not like that. Relax your arm.” I didn’t even realize that I was so tense. I tried to relax.
“No, walk normally” she said. “Walk like you didn’t have a blind person hanging onto you”. Umm, I said to my inner self, I am this woman’s eyes. I suddenly didn’t know what walking normally was.
Then I realized that she was leaning her body weight into me. This is an odd feeling, especially with a stranger. We reached the east side of 7th Avenue, and I suggested that she start using her feet to find the curb. She did it with such grace. I can’t tell you how many times I have tripped up a curb because I was not paying attention.
Once on the sidewalk, she asked if I knew where the Malibu Diner was. I told her that we were only a few doors away and I would help her to find a nice table. As we walked, I asked her name. “Gwenn”, she replied. I introduced myself. I asked if she enjoyed the thunderstorm Tuesday night (the one that took down 100 trees in Central Park) and she must have slept right through it. “I’m a light sleeper, you know.”
We reached the Malibu Diner and I took her inside. She thanked me for being her eyes and helping her to see. I said “you see more than you know”. She went quiet, and then she said that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. I helped her into the table, and she asked me to join her for lunch. I thanked her, but said I had a commitment to practice yoga with my favourite teacher. I said that we would run into each other again, and then we would have lunch together. The waiter came over to the table, and I asked him to take care of Gwenn. “She’s a very special lady”. I told her that she had the best seat in the house, right in front the window overlooking busy 23rd Street. She said it didn’t matter where she sat because she couldn’t see anything. I suggested that she use the sounds to imagine what she might see, and that was probably more than most New Yorkers saw in a year. She smiled.
I left her sitting in the window of the Malibu Diner. Gwenn touched me in a way I am only beginning to comprehend. Meeting Gwenn was a true blessing. And I surfaced an offering that surprised me.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. For every blessing, there is an offering. Thank you, Gwenn, for a beautiful birthday gift. You gave me courage. You showed me the beauty of the human spirit. You gave me hope. Namaste.
Posted by dave at August 19, 2009 04:16 PM