Good People Watching.

I am fortunate enough to have attended an art festival this past week. To say that I am grateful would be an understatement. I am generally aware of my good fortune, but I feel the true nature of my abundance within the bleak chaos that is the current state of the world. And I mean everything, really.

I’m not arrogant enough to believe that I will never encounter or run into misfortune, nor am I welcoming it in the door. For the moment, however, I am gainfully employed and have the resources to travel and I am able to eat good food, out, and enjoy beautiful art and for all these things, I find myself thanking the universe.

I went out to dinner with my parents last night. We were sitting outside at a pizzeria in downtown Miami. It was beautiful outside. Warm with a light breeze. Downtown is currently adorned with Christmas lights and fascinating art installations. It is absolutely beautiful.

If you haven’t been to Miami, Florida, I can assure you that the people watching is pretty much the best activity to engage in, at any time. Like so many cities across the globe, it takes all sorts to make the city spin round. There are locals and transplants and tourists. Conservatives and progressives and those even looser than that. Those who are wildly colorful and also, sedated. Wealth beyond imagination and desperate poverty. Skin of every shade and every kind of sexuality named and unnamed and various religions and temperaments and alignments. It’s a human smorgasbord.

We were chatting away over our meal, but also, simultaneously engaged in fervent people watching. It’s a thing. What I like best about my parents is that the people watching was sans judgment. Truly. There were some laughs and some shocked expressions (we did see a few bare asses), but overall, we were just taking it all in. All. Of. It.

An elderly woman walked slowly by our table. Shuffled might be a more apt description. A soft walk whereas her flip flop clad feet barely left the earth. She was clothed in a tattered carnation pink housedress that was covered in white embroidered flowers, grayed around the edges from too much atmosphere and presumably, too little shelter and washing. Her shoulders were slightly rounded, and her silver hair was pulled back into a loose, ever-unraveling bun. She wore a pleasant smile on her lined face and greeted everyone on the street with wishes of a good Hanukkah. She was the kind of sweet and forlorn that tugs on the heartstrings. She seemed wildly okay and not okay at the same time.

We all smiled at her and wished her a good holiday in return.

There was table diagonal to us and at it sat a young couple. If I had to guess, and I’m not always great at this game, I would say they were late twenties, early thirties, max. I felt myself holding my breath for a moment. I recognize that such a statement is itself judgmental and perhaps unfair. Who am I to decide how people might respond to this wanderer?

Sadly, I think I’m afraid of the reaction of the world in a very general kind of way lately. We have shown our very worst colors lately. The grossest bits of us have been hung out to dry on the line, whereas everyone can grab a peek at the worst of humanity. We are intolerant and privileged. Ignorant, rude, self-righteous, and callous. We show very little respect for each other and even less in the way of compassion. I’ve written about this quite a few times. Rather than giving each other space to believe what we do and live the way we would wish, folks are clinging to whatever their deeply held beliefs are and INSISTING that everyone get on board or take a knee. Quite frankly, I’m exhausted and sad and pretty hopeless about the whole situation.

I refuse to give up altogether on humans, but it has been touch-and-go lately. A young person who gets away with murder. A representative posing with guns and making tasteless jokes just days after a brutal killing involving weapons.  The possible revocation of women’s rights that were granted a long time ago and have no business being reconsidered. The brutal imposition of religion, political affiliation, and sentiment on each other in a way that leaves no room for freedom of thought, speech, or body (for the so-called “wrong sex”). Racism and homophobia and discrimination and all the yuck. I’m so fucking terrified that it keeps me up at night. I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes tight and try and think of what is going to change things. How many more will have to be harmed or maligned or trapped before things start to shift?

So yeah, at that very moment, I didn’t find myself having a whole lotta faith in this young couple. The elderly woman approached and I felt my breath holding in that space between my ribs. Painful and stagnant. And then, a miracle. A fucking sign from the universe that there are still good humans out there. Amongst us. Everywhere. Great humans. Humans whose only super power is kindness and generosity. Humans who don’t need to brag about such things. They don’t need to announce their inherent goodness and tolerance on social media, seeking approval and reassurance. Effortless goodness.

The young man wordlessly lifted his dish of half-eaten food towards the woman. He had a very small, almost indiscernible smile on his face. Not one of mockery or cruelty. A sign. You are safe here. You are welcome here. We understand that we don’t understand. The woman bent ever so slightly, and reached her crooked and age worn fingers forward, and slowly picked up some food from the plate. She whispered a blessing on the man, placed the food in her mouth, and walked away.

The young man placed the plate at the edge of the table, looked over at his dinner companion, and continued his conversation. No discussion. No debate. No self-aggrandizing exchange. A non-event.

My father was the first to voice his astonishment. His relief. His appreciation. I followed shortly thereafter.

I’ve thought about it every moment since.

What if we could all created a small space for each other like that young man? What if we led with kindness instead of anger and hatred and frustration? What if we sought compromise and meaningful resolution instead of relentlessly pouring salt into open wounds?

I feel somewhat despondent over the state of the world. This sadness has been exacerbated by my interactions with certain friends lately. Friends? Friends. Not sure. I’ve felt criticized, abandoned, maligned, used, and run over. I’m so tired. And then, just like that, a teeny burst of energy. Of life. Of faith. Of hope. Of love.

It’s out there. You can’t look for it though. You have to stay open to it and then just like that, in the darkness, it finds you.

X

L.