The other

An odd moment occurred while I was out for my morning walk; I attempted to dismiss it as a phantasm, or the day-dream of a chap who’d read too much popular theoretical physics, Jorge Louis Borges, and speculative fiction, but I couldn’t shake the event from my consciousness.

I was tired; I’d slept in and I had to force myself to get outside for fresh air. About half-way around my usual walk, I came to a fork in the path; I could cut back to the right, a short-cut through the park, or I could continue left, as usual. I felt an odd shimmer deep in the centre of my being; I turned to follow the left-hand path, but he — the other — turned right. He soon vanished into the ethereal space of another world, but I saw him clearly for a moment. He was favouring his left leg, probably due to our sore hip. He turned around, smiled, and said something before he faded into obscurity. His words were swallowed  quickly, as if absorbed in water, but I think he said, “Take care.” He looked exhausted, like he carried a great weight; there were lines of fatigue etched on his face, but he radiated kindness. My heart went out to him, and I wished him well as I continued on my way.

I felt light, energetic, and my mood had risen; I’ve been somewhat moody for the past few weeks, and I suddenly wondered why. I think the other had taken a load of my suffering with him. My hip felt better and my soul was cleansed. He hadn’t taken it all; that would be unfair, but his altruism was stunning.

I wonder how his future will unfold; although he enriched my life, I think his actions raised him to another level. I wish there was something I could do for him. And maybe there is: I can acknowledge his gift by spreading his kindness. I hope I’m equal to the task.

I hope our paths will converge again someday; it would be fun to regale each other with the stories of our separate lives.

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Sometimes

Sometimes I forget that we all have our own unique difficulties.

I get wrapped up within my personal problems and can’t comprehend why others are acting the way they are.

I become angry, withdrawn, grumpy, and maybe a bit paranoid: perhaps others are thinking ill of me, even talking about me behind my back.

I become someone I don’t like; someone a bit like the person I imagine others think I am.

It takes me a while, sometimes, to come to my senses; sometimes, it’s the kindness of others that brings me out of it.

As my soul warms, I begin to see clearer.

Are there others just like me?

Of course there are. And sometimes I’m able to help warm a soul.

Sometimes.

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