I put money in the bucket an old black man in a white shirt, black pants, and vest, held out at a stop light. He’d been there other days, too. I recognized the uniform from other locations in Asheville and in Charles Town. I have no idea if this money really feeds the homeless as the sign on the bucket claims. The other day I decided it was a scam so ignored him. This day, though, something prompted me to let go of that assessment and dig out a dollar bill. Today I gave him two. Next time I hope to up the ante.
What happened, was that I let go of my judgement. And something opened in me—It feels like grace, or love. It has to do with how vulnerable this elderly gentleman appeared to be when I really looked at him through the open car window. He didn’t seem so far removed from being homeless himself, maybe. What I realized, was that none of that mattered. What was important was the shift in me. The gesture of giving came from a place in me that wasn’t a scam. But that place isn’t always accessible, either.
Payment
Lately, my circadian rhythm has been waking me at dawn as the light filters in through the picture windows. I stopped making my bed and stood by the window as the sun peaked the mountain crest. Gudjieff didn’t say, “when you feel like it,” he said, “every morning.” So, I stood still and tried to align my three centers and convey to them the importance of working together to “pay the debt of my existence.” My head still thinks it doesn’t quite get what that means but has let go of worrying about knowing.
However, my feeling center now has a clue. When I opened myself to the act of giving without judgement, it felt like a contribution towards paying my debt. There was something about the old man—about being human, about the fragility of life on earth. Something about the Jesus Prayer and God wanting a connection with the frailty He’d created.
It feels like the debt we owe is that which we must pay to participate in this frailty. I need to keep digging to find the place in me that isn’t a scam, where the coin I give is real, even knowing the bucket into which I pay is bottomless.