One of the deepest needs we have is for a sense of place and a connection to others. Our increasingly mobile fast-paced society has left an itch on many of our souls that often seems just out of reach. The fragmentation, isolation, and loneliness in the American culture has become legendary and has filled many a newspaper and research journal. A recent large survey revealed more than 57% of the people in my county to have markers for clinical depression. Isolation is bad for the soul.
At one time we sat on front porches in the evening and enjoyed our neighbors. Today we don't have porches on our houses and have been enticed into an inner solitude by air conditioning and wide-screen TV with satellite up-links. Maybe we can have our air conditioning and cosmic hook-ups without sacrificing the community we need to scratch our deeper need for connection.
At least twenty recent studies have shown that people who attend church regularly are healthier and have less difficulty with heart disease. There is something heartening about joining with others of similar spiritual persuasion. My heart has often received great benefit from joining with others in their struggles and celebrations. "Community" has been used as an invocation in church services a number of times.
Americans have always had a fierce independent spirit and prided themselves on their self-sufficiency. In this day and age we often face problems and challenges that take more than one individual to solve. In "Jump Start" three of us learned that a healthy inter-dependence was able to solve an old man's problem. In a society obsessed with security and personal safety, we learned that true security comes from relationships and community, not money or an individualistic spirit.
Many of us are enjoying the greater connectivity possible with the Internet, cellular phones, fax modems, digital pagers, and a host of other electronic wizards. For certain, I enjoy hearing from the same person several times a day in a distant country. "Shoe Repair" reveals there are community connections that are quite independent of modern technology. Elaine and Jack both depended on my paying attention to their needs. There are people out there itching to get their needs met but don't know about each other. You might be the one to scratch the need.
We all have had a chance encounter with a stranger we were certain angels must have mediated. I recall people I met but for seconds many years ago and would give dearly to encounter once again. Often I have itched for a second chance to see them. "Chance" suggests that sometimes we can take things out of the realm of chance. Once in while Fate gives us more than we asked for.
Sociology researchers describe three kinds of essential places in people's lives; the place we live, the place we work, and the place we gather for conviviality. It is in these "third places", where the primary activity is conversation, that communities can come into being and continue to hold together. When an automobilecentric, suburban, drive-thru fast food, shopping-mall way of life eliminated many of these third places, the social fabric of many communities shredded. The United States experienced a near extinction of such places. Happily, there has been a recent gain in their numbers as manifest by the sudden popularity of bookstore cafes. "Bookstore Cafe" describes my happy experience with a newly opened third place on an icy winter night. Several bookstore/cafes have opened recently within a short distance, making our lives much richer.
It is well known that when some kind of unusual natural event occurs, people will often pull together. The extensive flooding in the Great Plains revealed some truly heroic deeds on the part of many to save their communities from inundation by icy flood waters. Fortunately, we can sometimes experience the spontaneous crystallization of community by a more benign experience such as an unusual snow fall. A real snowfall in the south is rare enough to be a cause for celebration by all children and the more open-minded adults who don't commute two hours to work. "Snow" describes spontaneous community and a departure from the status quo.
Community
In these moments of stillness,
quietly gathering, we draw strength.
In silence we hear inner messages,
bringing us new hope and promise.
In our corporate solitude,
we celebrate communion of shared joy.
Flames of fellowship fanned,
incandescent radiance bursts forth.
We share the light of our lives,
bringing renewal and possibility.
Jump Start
I was working late Friday night, with another fellow, Bill, in the community playhouse building sets for an upcoming play. Like a lot of volunteer theaters, ours thrives in a lousy part of town in a semi-abandoned building that used to be a TV repair shop or some such thing. The low rent is a compelling enticement for a cash-poor group of Broadway dreamers. An older man, looking much like Yoda, of Star Wars fame, wandered into the theater looking like he had just returned from the ice planet Hoth. After some twenty minutes of roaming about, watching us work, he revealed that his inter-galactic cruiser had run out of dilithium crystals outside. Actually, he said he was seeking a tow truck as his house-bound aunt's 1978 LTD had died in the street.
After a brief interview we came to learn that he thought he might have run out of gas but was not quite certain. He thought a warp-core breach (dead battery) a possibility. His hesitation stemmed from having walked four blocks at impulse speed for a gallon of gas and putting ALL of it in the gas tank and then cranking the starter motor until the battery was quite dead. I asked him if he had saved any gas to prime the butterfly valve in the carburetor. A glazed look came over him at this point; much like that coming over unfortunate people stuck outside at sunset on Hoth, where it drops to minus 150 degrees very very fast. The diagnosis was confirmed; a systemic electrical collapse secondary to failure to properly prime the warp-field generator before energizing the dilithium crystals.
We can make amusing similes from popular science fiction fantasies for purposes of telling stories but if you have ever been motoring along late at night in a dream-like state enjoying your favorite music and suddenly have your sputtering and soon silent engine shock you back to reality, then you will agree there is nothing amusing at all about your plight. This old man found himself stranded late on a cold night in a bad part of town where many adverse possibilities could have arisen for him. Newspapers are replete with stories of people killed after mechanical failures in their vehicles put them at risk for assault. We have had several people killed in recent months within 200 feet of where this man's car died.
It turns out Bill had a set of jumper cables and a large truck with a strong battery. I had knowledge of how to prime the engine with the fifteen drops of gas left in the old man's gas can. Neither Bill, the old man, or myself could have gotten the car going on our own. The man's careful explanation of his problem along with Bills' equipment, and my knowledge of old LTDs were enough, together, to get the car running again and to put a smile on this old man's face. He left the scene radiant
with the $50 he would have given to the tow truck operator, if he had been left alone until he arrived.
It has been a growing realization to me in recent months that true security comes from relationships and community and not from money or an individualistic spirit. That old man could have had $5,000 in his pocket. It wouldn't have gotten his car started. My primed carburetor was no good without Bill's jumper cables and truck. His truck and cables were of no use without my knowledge of priming. Each of us brought something unique and indispensable to the situation. Together, we accomplished the desired result.
The Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes tells us that it is better when two walk together, for when one falls the other can help him up. It also tells us in battle that where one can rout two then two can rout ten. There is a synergism that occurs when people work together for the common good. The New Testament book of Corinthians tells us that each of us has a distinctive unique contribution to make to the community. The human body is used as an analogy for this with some of us described as functioning as eyes, others as feet, others as hands, ad infinitum. All are viewed as equally important.
Grand orators can be found in theaters, but the greatest lessons are learned on the stage of everyday life.
Shoe Repair
Do you ever have one of those truly splendid moments when you want to jump up and down and scream “YES! YES!”? Well, I just had one. I just experienced the enthralling magic of the healthy interdependence we can have on each other; the true sense of safety and security that can come from a willingness to link arms with those around us.
My boss and I went to lunch at the beginning of the week and on the way back he wanted to stop by a shoe repair shop and pick up his wife’s boots. The shop was closed, it being Monday. I reminded Joe that all great museums in the world are always closed on Mondays so curators can do what ever it is they do on Mondays when all great museums are closed on Mondays. I figured this must be a really fine repair shop if it does as museums do. The closest thing to it in my world, I figure, is the barber shop which closes on Wednesday afternoon.
Anyway, in a driving torrential rain I returned to this shop a couple of days later, mere seconds before closing time with a canvas bag of my tired and poor. The aromas swirling inside the shop told me they used strong stuff and could put anything back together. An exceedingly pleasant consultation with Jack and Phyllis revealed my shoes to be on the brink, but a favorable prognosis was forthcoming. They will be spared a plunge into the cold dark abyss of the county landfill and will once again walk the cobbled streets of Wales and Scotland from wence they came.
After our conference declared my shoes pardoned from death row, I fell into happy discussion with these two splendid people about the mysteries and lore of cobbling and smithing of shoes. During this they revealed an interest in acquiring additional finishers, stitchers, and other machinery used in the repair business. Jack told me that he especially wants old machines because they are easier to maintain and he can use them interchangeably with his other older machinery. In my head a light bulb came on, very brightly at that.
My dear friend Elaine, who has walked on those fine cobbled streets of Wales with me, got an idea a year or so ago of buying the contents of a shoe repair business from a fellow who had done such work for more than seventy five years. Elaine contra dances with the fellow who owns the building where this shop had been located, in the old historical district of Wilmington, and he had told her of this shop. Elaine, having recently been traumatically outsourced and down sized, was looking for a new way to finance her bad habits of eating, staying warm, and getting in out of the rain. Her mortgage company had also told her she still had to pay up every month. Based on the council of many she bought the shop.
Alas, the council of many later said this was not such a good idea after all and she ended up with a garage full of all those mysterious spindles, funky hammers, strange glues, and machines used to keep the world on its feet. And yes, her garage is closed on Mondays. She has been trying for some time now to sell her cobbling museum, without success. Fortunately, for Elaine, she has had some success at other means of employment and is continuing to eat, stay warm, and come in when it rains.
I mentioned to Jack that I had a close friend three hundred fifty three miles away who had the answer to a cobbler's prayer; a complete shop at an ultimate price. Jack has been very fortunate in that he and Phyllis have been able to get their shop up and going from scratch and are making an honorable living from it in less than two years. The down side is that it is essential that he not experience idle time with his machinery, especially at the holidays when people like me bring in big canvas bags full of the abused and neglected. His concern is that he not lose business because of a mechanical failure with one of his machines. I told him his business insurance was waiting for him in Wilmington and to expect a call in the morning from Elaine. We had a most happy parting, me back into the driving rain, he back into his aromatic swirl.
I called Elaine and? Magic. I hope you have had the good fortune of having someone call you and-discovering that someone has you at heart and is being used by the powers on High to make a difference in your life. Elaine told me she just finished putting a note on my Christmas gift and was off to the post office with it! I know I am living right. I told her of the most probable buyer for her garage museum and gave her Jack's name and number and suggested they could work out an arrangement for Jack to view the machinery and negotiate a sale price. She was speechless. What was magical for me was knowing that this will be a true win-win for Elaine and Jack. Elaine will be able to park her car in the garage and keep eating because Jack will give her more than fair price for the machines. Jack will get an ultimate good value because I know how Elaine treats people. My role? Merely passing on a phone message.
We live in a society that prides itself on individualism and self sufficiency, maintaining an attitude of not needing anyone else. This was made especially evident to me this week, watching the struggle of a distant acquaintance in the frozen north who has gone through a serious biopsy, much pain, and the ominous uncertainty of waiting for the results - alone. She has no one to walk with her through this dark time in her life, a somber legacy of American self-sufficiency. No one to bring her a bowl of hot soup in bed or to ease her pain. My mother recently died alone after years of a willful independence from others. Her sister followed her but a few weeks later. She also made that great leap alone. I learned just yesterday of a man who decided he doesn't need his wife anymore. He declares he needs no friends and wants none. I fear for him
Jack would never have found Elaine's garage three hundred and fifty three miles away and Elaine would have never known that Jack has a preference for older machines. Self-sufficiency and independence would never have led these two to each other. Humans are created social and they need each other to have meaningful fulfilled lives. Our richest memories come from shared experiences.
In the 10th century BC Solomon wrote “There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. ‘For whom am I toiling,’ he asked, ‘and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?’ This too is meaningless - a miserable business! Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”
Reach out and touch someone.
Chance
If you read the personals classifieds in the newspapers of any city you will find a number of mournful ads in a small category called "Missed Connections." Even my small rural town newspaper has these poignant ads. Someone sees or meets another who causes his soul to resonate with at least three levels of harmonics, yet, so often, a chance encounter with a soul mate is left to Fate. Fate rarely returns such a gift. The grim reality of regret drives these hapless people to place those "missed connection' ads against great odds, hoping a lost traveler might be found. That Fate might, for once be generous.
Two years ago, on a bright Easter Sunday morning, while on the District Line in the London Underground, I encountered one with whom my soul resonated; sharing conversation in a magic timeless space until I reached my station. I left her to Fate and Fate did not give her back. I rode that train for some days thereafter, hopeful. I have nothing but a distant memory of what might have been. Soul mates are ever so rare.
Two years later, today, I was on a city bus in Victoria, just returning from the world renown botanical gardens to be found north of the city. It was a cold rainy winter day and nothing was in bloom, having made for a disappointing outing. Moments after boarding the #75 bus at the entrance to the gardens, an older woman asked me how it was. I told her nothing was in bloom. She decided to stay on the bus rather than brave the rains to see flowerless flowers. I suggested the gardens would be better in the spring. She agreed.
This time Fate didn't win. This woman is old enough to be my grandmother twice over but she has a vibrant soul and a mind young enough to be my grandchild. I saw nothing along the forty-five minute trip back into the city. My vision was filled up with her soul. Besides, the windows were all condensed as they are inclined to be on cold, beastly winter days. Christmas is near, after all.
Warm winds of fortune must have been blowing on me this blustery winter day. We got off at the same stop and she asked me if I wanted to take afternoon tea with her. For two hours I plumbed her soul over tea in a department store cafeteria. It proved to be one of those magical places where people explore souls in conversation; where time stands still. Those two hours allowed me to speak of things that are not acceptable to speak of in my world. I found validation for my thoughts, understanding of my dreams, acceptance, a hug. It was one of the enchanted times when another soul nods up and down and says Yes! Yes! Yes! We fantasized as a steady succession of sea planes carried people to their dreams, leaving the safety of the harbor.
It seems the #75 bus had much more to offer me than just a ride home.
Bookstore Cafe
Golden interior radiance beckoning,
we cast off foggy night's embrace.
Cozy warmth enfolding frosty ears,
aromatic tendrils of coffee tease.
Warm worlds cast in oil and canvas,
gleam under sunny electric suns.
Printed realms, glossy with potential,
offer passage to unseen Kingdoms.
An oasis of civility in a dark sphere,
grand ideas, shared, vanquish shadows.
Encountering a long-lost Traveller,
we know this to be the Way.
May we have a refill?
Snow
Deafening silence cloaks winter world.
Dazzling snow muffins lazily descend.
Crystalline metamorphosis complete,
adults gawk in child-like wonder.
I, composed in translucent winter stasis,
enjoy serenity with newly fallen flakes.
Parents and children, crossing generations,
frolic in communal snow-bound adventures.
Arboreal denizens cloaked in white mantles,
give mute testimony of life’s Grand Secret.
Winter's blanket, bandaging the world,
heals humanity's angst of soul.
On a cold winter day centuries ago,
One came telling of emerald summer.
Can we go sledding now?
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