But that's not what disturbed me either. No, I was disturbed by my reaction to him. Alarmed by the fact that he looked like he may have been drunk, as he was swaggering to and fro, compounded by the fact that he had no shirt on, compounded by that I took him to be homeless, I panicked. And then I hurried off about my business, in a direction opposite from him. So, in essence, I was running away from him. But why?
He wanted to have a word with me it seemed, and I rejected the possibility of any discourse with him based on my judgments and fears. What was I afraid of? That he would spit on me? That he would talk at me nonsensically as so many 'street people' tend to do? That he would harm me, pull out a gun, flash me his wang? Who knows? Maybe he'd vomit on my shoes, or simply, ask me for some change.
Though any of these outcomes are possible, I surmise that the latter is probably, in all its simplicity, the most likely. The poor no-shirted man probably just wanted me to give him a dollar or something. And would that be so bad? Couldn't I just offer up a tiny little George Washington so that he might believe the human race is not all about stinginess and greed? Maybe if nothing else, he felt lonely, and he'd find that he had a friend in the world...if only for a moment.
But I didn't offer that GW. I was too scared. I read recently that if we are to find the path of higher understanding, we must realize that human encounters are opportunities to unleash our full potential, to live among greater joy. Though it's one thing to understand that, and quite another it seems, to act accordingly. Oh well, this is a journey, this crazy life. I have no intentions of lambasting myself for not speaking to the shirtless man who wanted my ear. But I want to tell him, if he could ever read this, that I'm sorry I fled him. He deserves better.
And so do you.
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