"Bread for myself is a material question.
Bread for my neighbor is a spiritual one."
--Nicholas Berdyaev
Quotation thanks to Care2 newsletter
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
There is an inevitability to mercy...of that I am sure....
About two years ago I walked into the underground parking garage of my West Hollywood apartment building and noticed a well-dressed elderly woman lifting the lid on one of the two large metal garbage containers located just behind my car. She caught my eye because she was dressed in a soft pink two piece outfit, her hair was immaculate, she was wearing pearls and she was staring down the maw of the open trash container. Seeing people picking through these containers wasn't unusual but seeing a well-dressed woman in pearls took me by surprise. Homeless people pushing shopping carts piled high with empty bottles or bags of personal items was a common part of the landscape in Los Angeles. My underground parking garage wasn't gated and so all kinds of people wandered through. Some even stayed awhile. Like the man who popped his head out of the large garbage container one day as a friend and I walked to my car.
"Hello!" crowed the bare chested man as he lifted the lid and stood up inside the container to greet us. I jumped back, surprised, but instantly delighted with this human Jack-in-the-box who was offering me an experience I had never had. My friend was so freaked out by the sight of the shirtless man in the container that he rushed to the passenger side of my car, jiggled the door nervously and croaked 'Get in the car! He could have a gun!'
I knew this man was harmless, I could feel his energy. I felt safe and even a bit intrigued. Why had he shown up in my life on this day? What had called him in? Anyone who knows me knows that I look upon everything as meaningful, as a 'sign' or a gift sent from the universe to delight us or bring information, illumination, or guidance or give us an opportunity to practice more love, appreciation and gratitude in our lives. My electronic door opener clicked the door open for my friend and he flew inside the car. I turned back to continue my conversation with the man in the container. 'What are you doing in there?' I asked. "I live here,' he told me, 'this has been my home for 31 years." I smiled. ' Really? Well, I have lived in this apartment building for several years and I have never seen you before.' His eyes flashed with pleasure and he said, 'Well, I haven't moved. Would you like me to show you my driver's license?' He was quite lucid even though the entire situation was quite obviously preposterous. I just laughed, bid him a good day, and got into my car.
My friend looked at me in stunned disbelief. 'Why would you talk to him?'
'Why wouldn't I talk to him?' I asked.
'Because he's dirty and crazy! And he might have done something to you!'
'Well, he didn't do anything and anyway, I thought he was utterly charming. I learned a lot from him.' My friend harrumphed and then clammed up and refused to speak to me for the entire rest of our ride together. I didn't know what I had learned from the garbage container man but I knew something had occurred in me during our exchange and that it would reveal itself to me later. How much later I didn't know.
The elderly woman in pearls was a different story. I was in a hurry the day I found her there and didn't want to talk. I opened my car door to get in but something kept drawing me back to her. She looked at me a few times and then turned back to the trash container. Finally, I opened my car door, dropped my packages inside, and walked over to her. 'Excuse me, I said,'can I help you?' She looked at me not understanding and gestured with her hands. She didn't speak English. She started to speak in a foreign language - Armenian, I think.
I was going to walk away again but something compelled me to stay. For a few seconds we stared at each other. I am 6 ft tall and she was much smaller, maybe 5'4". She looked up at me and I could see her eyes filling with tears. 'I am sorry,' I said to her, touching my heart. 'I am sorry'. The words 'I am sorry' just kept falling out of my mouth. She surprised me completely by taking my hands in hers and lifting them to her face. Then she stepped closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her head gently on my stomach. I was so amazed by this little exchange that I didn't know what to do. My arms hung like cooked lasagna noodles, useless by my side. I was afraid to hold this woman, afraid to show tenderness to a stranger. My mind chattered on and on with reasons why-not. Finally, my heart stepped in and my arms folded themselves around her. She stayed there for a few seconds, pressed like a flower against me, then stepped back. As she looked up at me, I was crying. She took my hands in hers and kissed them.
It wasn't until I arrived in Toronto, Canada to visit family several years later that I ever thought of this woman again. It was a babysitter at my brother's home who spoke in broken English who brought it all back to me. I found her sitting on the couch having put the children to bed when I walked in from a late evening Starbucks run. I was tired and the only thing I really I wanted to do was to duck downstairs, take a hot bath and go to bed. But when I walked in, I could feel the energy of sadness in the space and it was leading me straight to the kitchen where the babysitter sat. My mind urged me to observe boundaries... but my heart was drawn and I heard it say... the inevitability of mercy.
'How are you?' I asked her as I stood by the kitchen counter. Big, floppy, gelatinous tears fell down her face. They were the kind of tears I've seen in people who never let themselves cry, who push on through life's traumas and tragedies thinking that tears are a waste of time or that if they let themselves cry they'll never stop. I sat with her on the couch and listened. It was soon clear that there was a torrent of emotion behind her words and that talking was just going to recycle the pain.
As a breathwork practitioner, it was natural for me to assist someone to feel better. And in unexpected or unusual situations, I always let my heart be the barometer of when to say 'no' or 'yes'. In this case, my heart was like a gong: Yes Yes Yes.
I looked at her, and said, 'Can I support you?'. She was so grateful, so relieved to be able to share what was so heavy on her heart. Tears poured out and she shared a little of the darkness of her childhood and her belief that nothing good would ever come to her. I had her lie down on my brother's couch and breathe. She breathed and breathed and breathed in connected breaths, as if she had done this before. She breathed like a trooper, willingly releasing her sadness and anger and frustration, as ripe to shed the past as anyone I have ever worked with. When the natural course of the breathing cycle ended, she lay still on the couch. Her makeup was half-way down her face, but there was a calm in her eyes and she looked up at me and smiled. 'I have never felt this way before...I feel full in myself not empty like before...and peace....peace...peace.' She looked to me like a new person. The heavy shield of sadness that had covered her face before and the habit of using busy humor to deflect her from feeling was gone. She was quiet, quiet, quiet.
We sat together for a few moments then I stood up preparing to say goodnight. She jumped to her feet and took my hands in hers and kissed them, then wrapped her arms around me and held me. The memory of the elderly woman came back to me in an instant. And in a second I remembered why that woman had come to me that day in my underground garage and why she had hugged me. It was the same reason the babysitter had hugged me there in my brother's kitchen. It was a gift I had forgotten I had even called for.
The man in the trash container, the woman in pearls in my underground garage, and the babysitter too were messengers sent to me to remind me to stay awake to the moment and to keep my heart open. Like a train barreling down the tracks to its inevitable destination, there is an inevitability to love and mercy that cannot be denied.
Is it possible that just as we think we are being the benevolent 'giver', the universe is gently coaxing us to become the gracious receiver? Is it possible that in extending mercy to another, we are actually being given the gift we've called for in the only way the universe knows to deliver it to us? In the only way it can--by catching us off guard enough to soften our heart so we will feel the love we have called for? Is that why the ancients teach that in the giving is the receiving and in the receiving, the giving?
I realize now that the homeless man who jumped out of the garbage container at my old apartment complex on that day years ago came because I called. I had been judging where I lived as 'not good enough' even though I knew I was there to learn that material possessions are not the measure of a woman or a man. And he was there perfectly poised inside that large garbage container to give me the gift of perspective, and laughter and the wisdom of not taking life so seriously. And the elderly woman in pearls who wrapped her arms around me and made me cry, came to me on the very day I had been missing my late mother's love and judging myself for not spending more time with her just before she died.
And the babysitter. I like to think my mother was present inside the babysitter's hug in my brother's kitchen in the city my mother and I had called 'home' for many years. I like to think that because just that morning I had wished that my mother could be there during the holidays with all of us, and that she could have seen me so happy, feeling successful, and doing work I love, love, love.
There is an inevitability to mercy, of that I am sure. When you least expect it, just when you think it has passed you by or abandoned you or forgotten you, it will come. It will take you by surprise. It is better that way, somehow. If you knew it was coming, you might not let it come.
It doesn't matter at which end of the giving or receiving spectrum you sit. It only matters that you allow yourself to participate - to stay in the moment, keep your heart open and say Yes to the person who happens across your path.You never know what gifts they are bringing you or what gifts you are meant to give them. But it is inevitable that if you keep your heart open you will find out.
@copyright Christiane Schull 2007. All rights reserved.
"Hello!" crowed the bare chested man as he lifted the lid and stood up inside the container to greet us. I jumped back, surprised, but instantly delighted with this human Jack-in-the-box who was offering me an experience I had never had. My friend was so freaked out by the sight of the shirtless man in the container that he rushed to the passenger side of my car, jiggled the door nervously and croaked 'Get in the car! He could have a gun!'
I knew this man was harmless, I could feel his energy. I felt safe and even a bit intrigued. Why had he shown up in my life on this day? What had called him in? Anyone who knows me knows that I look upon everything as meaningful, as a 'sign' or a gift sent from the universe to delight us or bring information, illumination, or guidance or give us an opportunity to practice more love, appreciation and gratitude in our lives. My electronic door opener clicked the door open for my friend and he flew inside the car. I turned back to continue my conversation with the man in the container. 'What are you doing in there?' I asked. "I live here,' he told me, 'this has been my home for 31 years." I smiled. ' Really? Well, I have lived in this apartment building for several years and I have never seen you before.' His eyes flashed with pleasure and he said, 'Well, I haven't moved. Would you like me to show you my driver's license?' He was quite lucid even though the entire situation was quite obviously preposterous. I just laughed, bid him a good day, and got into my car.
My friend looked at me in stunned disbelief. 'Why would you talk to him?'
'Why wouldn't I talk to him?' I asked.
'Because he's dirty and crazy! And he might have done something to you!'
'Well, he didn't do anything and anyway, I thought he was utterly charming. I learned a lot from him.' My friend harrumphed and then clammed up and refused to speak to me for the entire rest of our ride together. I didn't know what I had learned from the garbage container man but I knew something had occurred in me during our exchange and that it would reveal itself to me later. How much later I didn't know.
The elderly woman in pearls was a different story. I was in a hurry the day I found her there and didn't want to talk. I opened my car door to get in but something kept drawing me back to her. She looked at me a few times and then turned back to the trash container. Finally, I opened my car door, dropped my packages inside, and walked over to her. 'Excuse me, I said,'can I help you?' She looked at me not understanding and gestured with her hands. She didn't speak English. She started to speak in a foreign language - Armenian, I think.
I was going to walk away again but something compelled me to stay. For a few seconds we stared at each other. I am 6 ft tall and she was much smaller, maybe 5'4". She looked up at me and I could see her eyes filling with tears. 'I am sorry,' I said to her, touching my heart. 'I am sorry'. The words 'I am sorry' just kept falling out of my mouth. She surprised me completely by taking my hands in hers and lifting them to her face. Then she stepped closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her head gently on my stomach. I was so amazed by this little exchange that I didn't know what to do. My arms hung like cooked lasagna noodles, useless by my side. I was afraid to hold this woman, afraid to show tenderness to a stranger. My mind chattered on and on with reasons why-not. Finally, my heart stepped in and my arms folded themselves around her. She stayed there for a few seconds, pressed like a flower against me, then stepped back. As she looked up at me, I was crying. She took my hands in hers and kissed them.
It wasn't until I arrived in Toronto, Canada to visit family several years later that I ever thought of this woman again. It was a babysitter at my brother's home who spoke in broken English who brought it all back to me. I found her sitting on the couch having put the children to bed when I walked in from a late evening Starbucks run. I was tired and the only thing I really I wanted to do was to duck downstairs, take a hot bath and go to bed. But when I walked in, I could feel the energy of sadness in the space and it was leading me straight to the kitchen where the babysitter sat. My mind urged me to observe boundaries... but my heart was drawn and I heard it say... the inevitability of mercy.
'How are you?' I asked her as I stood by the kitchen counter. Big, floppy, gelatinous tears fell down her face. They were the kind of tears I've seen in people who never let themselves cry, who push on through life's traumas and tragedies thinking that tears are a waste of time or that if they let themselves cry they'll never stop. I sat with her on the couch and listened. It was soon clear that there was a torrent of emotion behind her words and that talking was just going to recycle the pain.
As a breathwork practitioner, it was natural for me to assist someone to feel better. And in unexpected or unusual situations, I always let my heart be the barometer of when to say 'no' or 'yes'. In this case, my heart was like a gong: Yes Yes Yes.
I looked at her, and said, 'Can I support you?'. She was so grateful, so relieved to be able to share what was so heavy on her heart. Tears poured out and she shared a little of the darkness of her childhood and her belief that nothing good would ever come to her. I had her lie down on my brother's couch and breathe. She breathed and breathed and breathed in connected breaths, as if she had done this before. She breathed like a trooper, willingly releasing her sadness and anger and frustration, as ripe to shed the past as anyone I have ever worked with. When the natural course of the breathing cycle ended, she lay still on the couch. Her makeup was half-way down her face, but there was a calm in her eyes and she looked up at me and smiled. 'I have never felt this way before...I feel full in myself not empty like before...and peace....peace...peace.' She looked to me like a new person. The heavy shield of sadness that had covered her face before and the habit of using busy humor to deflect her from feeling was gone. She was quiet, quiet, quiet.
We sat together for a few moments then I stood up preparing to say goodnight. She jumped to her feet and took my hands in hers and kissed them, then wrapped her arms around me and held me. The memory of the elderly woman came back to me in an instant. And in a second I remembered why that woman had come to me that day in my underground garage and why she had hugged me. It was the same reason the babysitter had hugged me there in my brother's kitchen. It was a gift I had forgotten I had even called for.
The man in the trash container, the woman in pearls in my underground garage, and the babysitter too were messengers sent to me to remind me to stay awake to the moment and to keep my heart open. Like a train barreling down the tracks to its inevitable destination, there is an inevitability to love and mercy that cannot be denied.
Is it possible that just as we think we are being the benevolent 'giver', the universe is gently coaxing us to become the gracious receiver? Is it possible that in extending mercy to another, we are actually being given the gift we've called for in the only way the universe knows to deliver it to us? In the only way it can--by catching us off guard enough to soften our heart so we will feel the love we have called for? Is that why the ancients teach that in the giving is the receiving and in the receiving, the giving?
I realize now that the homeless man who jumped out of the garbage container at my old apartment complex on that day years ago came because I called. I had been judging where I lived as 'not good enough' even though I knew I was there to learn that material possessions are not the measure of a woman or a man. And he was there perfectly poised inside that large garbage container to give me the gift of perspective, and laughter and the wisdom of not taking life so seriously. And the elderly woman in pearls who wrapped her arms around me and made me cry, came to me on the very day I had been missing my late mother's love and judging myself for not spending more time with her just before she died.
And the babysitter. I like to think my mother was present inside the babysitter's hug in my brother's kitchen in the city my mother and I had called 'home' for many years. I like to think that because just that morning I had wished that my mother could be there during the holidays with all of us, and that she could have seen me so happy, feeling successful, and doing work I love, love, love.
There is an inevitability to mercy, of that I am sure. When you least expect it, just when you think it has passed you by or abandoned you or forgotten you, it will come. It will take you by surprise. It is better that way, somehow. If you knew it was coming, you might not let it come.
It doesn't matter at which end of the giving or receiving spectrum you sit. It only matters that you allow yourself to participate - to stay in the moment, keep your heart open and say Yes to the person who happens across your path.You never know what gifts they are bringing you or what gifts you are meant to give them. But it is inevitable that if you keep your heart open you will find out.
@copyright Christiane Schull 2007. All rights reserved.
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