what you are doing

It's morning, and bluesky gorgeous. A perfect Equinoctical (would that be the word?) balance of summerfall. I'm making the familiar walk, from the free parking spots on Silver up to Winning Coffee. It takes about 10 minutes. The little gardens on the way - flowers, a few tomatoes, corn, herbs - are at their peak, and I greet them, grateful for their presence. Like my own nomadic plants, they remind how beauty continues to come to Light. By nature. Even in the midst of the concrete corruption and chaos.

A woman walks a little ahead of me. She's a few paces slower, and eventually I catch up to her. Since there's nobody on the other side of the street, and I'm going that way anyway, I cross over. Seems the easiest thing to do. A moment later, she crosses too, and steps onto the sidewalk right in front of me. I try not to get bugged at this -- what a silly thing to be bugged about, on such a beautiful day. And at the same moment, I become aware that my breathing is kind of shallow, my upper body tense, everything just a fraction more hurried than it needs to be. This is an old habit (could blame pizza delivery, but I was an impatient intense idealist way before that). So I start trying to correct it, in that moment. Just as the message moves from brain to body - slower, deeper, present/er - the woman beside me turns and speaks. Loudly. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asks. I stare blankly. "Your left shoulder is lower than your right," she continues. Her voice is strong, her words come out with confident emphasis. "You're tensing that whole side of your body, and it's affecting your breathing and your posture. You may think I'm strange for saying so, but I'm a yoga teacher, so I see these things. You might want to think about that!"

Thoughts aren't exactly confined to time, right? Surely others have had the experience of at least 5 distinct threads of thought unwinding, all complete, and all in the space of a second or less. This is what's happening in my mind, as this woman speaks. The thoughtthreads include:
-- Is she really talking to me?
-- OH NO. Not another middle-aged woman offering free "constructive criticism"...
-- She's right, of course. I always carry my book bag on the left shoulder, and that's a habit that has its effect over time.
-- How strange! If only she knew that I was already trying to improve my breathing and posture, and her words were interrupting that effort!
-- Who does she think she is, anyway?
-- Okay, she's a yoga teacher. She knows a lot on a certain subject. She has people's well-being in mind. She probably sees bad posture everywhere she goes. If I were in her position I'd probably want to share my wisdom with strangers on the street too. Or at least, I'd fight the urge to do that.
-- Wow, I know something about a few subjects too. What if I went around giving such candid feedback to random people, out of my observations? "Do you know what emotions you are beaming out to all of us? Do you realize what unacknowledged pain you're still holding onto, that you could do something different with? Do you have any idea of the striking similarities between you and the group you've been labelling? Do you not see the beautiful commonalities - and even common struggles - that you could empower each other with, if you could just get past your labels for a minute?
-- Or how about this: "Do you have any idea how lovely you are? Do you yourself get to feel the joy, the fearlessness, the acceptance, or the healing that you're beaming out to others around you? Do you have any idea how inspiring your word, or gesture, of encouragement was that one time? Do you realize what courage you re-membered me to, by speaking freely about your encounters with the Magic and the Mystery?"

All those thoughts were there, in the second it took me to respond. All of them, simultaneous. I couldn't speak because the thoughts were so thick. How many people recognize the already-flowing river into which they pour their own cup of words? Finally I said "Thank you...", although it probably sounded less than sincere. I guess I can appreciate her concern. I can surely appreciate her for reminding me of all I did - and didn't - want to share with people, myself. That last thought up there's the one I'd like to carry out into the world more. Maybe I will, soon. Maybe a little bit more at a time. While I keep improving my ability to breathe deep and stand up straight.