JOYFUL PIECE #38
What really matters?
Pedestrian Crossing, by Benh LIEU SONG (Flickr). This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.
It is Holy Week. A time to assess what it is that we do and how we do it.
We recently saw a movie unbearably slow at the start. After it ended the movie’s message began to float up from the depths of the experience, revealing its richness.
I meet people from all walks of life. Unfortunately, I can be so results-focused that unless people materially contribute to my obsessive focus on the project at hand, I miss the lesson from their presence in my life. Worse, I fail to recognize the value of their lives, the challenges that they face, the pain and sorrow that they carry, the illnesses and insecurities that assail them. I see a delivery driver, not Joe or Sarah who happen to be delivery drivers, who have family problems as we all do, as they seek meaning in their lives and a measure of fulfillment, if not joy. I could, in the same way, easily speak of the human beings that collect my trash, or paint my house, or repair my appliances— the essential workers.
The movie deals with the life of a public toilet cleaner in an affluent subdivision. It is a life that gives him meaning through his professionalism and methodology in approaching a job that I certainly would not cherish yet is so essential a public service. He has a rich life as he conceives it, focusing on his reading of classics, listening to vintage music, communing with nature. He has feelings that I seldom would ascribe to a human being whom I hurry past. In his humility, he is generous and supports others with time and resources from his station in life. He is a valued, reliable support to others in his world.
When in our busyness we rush past the other we may be shortchanging them and ourselves from the complementary richness of our shared existence.
The movie I am talking about is Perfect Days.
There is richness, joy everywhere if I just slow down...
Manuel, I so need to hear these words. I often get distracted by the task at hand and then realize later that I missed something important about that person's situation. Your writing sounds like a wonderful reflection our chaplain would give.
I really appreciate the mundaneness and profound nature of what you so well described - and look forward to seeing the movie. The guy that cuts you off on the interstate is probably dealing with a whole lot of heavy-duty stuff. Sure, some is self- inflicted, but some is not. We are all vulnerable to the same stuff just to various degrees. The cashier at the store, the cop who pulls us over for 12 miles per hour over, our doctor. . .