Finding Your Seat

(inspired by the stories of Chuang Tzu)

A boy, traveling to meet his friend in the city, rode the subway,
constantly looking for a place to sit.

When his train stopped, an old woman stood.
So did a business man and a girl with her brother –
all in different parts of the car.

The doors opened, and they went shopping, to work, or to school.

The boy scrambled for each vacant seat,
but was always beaten by someone closer –
someone who stood still until the place in front of them was free.

The boy found his way to his friend in the city,
but the trip was harder than it should have been –
and his feet were tired before he got there.

He stood the whole way.

Epilogue.

This is what it says it is… an epilogue. If you would like to read what it’s an epilogue to, check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

In the years since John, Kyle, and I made our trek up the mountain and through the woods, much has happened. Kyle moved to California to study a scientific discipline I can’t even spell. John finally looked over his shoulder and saw an amazing woman standing there who will soon be his wife. I returned from Yosemite unaware that over the next few years I would navigate a car-sickening ride of life, career, and geographic changes.

It’s been a big five years.

Re-reading this story has made me realize that I need to go back to the mountain. I need perspective and grounding. I need to dangle my feet over a ledge and remember that sitting on the edge of something uncertain, while terrifying, can also be beautiful and exciting.

Of course, I also need somebody to pay for the plane ticket. Interested?

Hi(gh)

Several times a week, a generous pot-head (or glaucoma patient) gives the homeless woman who lives in my subway station a free joint. She then sits on her bench, burning it down, filling the cave with sticky sweet smoke.

I wonder if the pot-head thinks he's funny, giving a homeless woman an unbearable case of munchies she can't afford to cure.

grounded?

Today I found myself outside the Chrysler Building (which, by the way, is tall enough it might block God’s view of Brooklyn) where a small church sits snugged between the skyscrapers.

This morning the cross outside the church was still wearing its Easter outfit; a shroud draped across its shoulders… and a chain securing it to the street.

I know what the chain says about my city, where bicycles and icons (apparently) need the same pad-locked protection. But if this is what the last two millennia have been leading us to, I think someone deserves an apology.


O Lord, forgive three sins that are due to my human limitations:
Thou art everywhere, but I worship you here;
Thou art without form, but I worship you in these forms;
Thou needest no praise, yet I offer you these prayers and salutations.
Lord, forgive three sins that are due to my human limitations.
(traditional Hindu invocation)

law

“That’s a beautiful church,” I said, and he thought so too.
“What’s that the billboard says?”
Luntz, Elder, and Stern, attorneys at law.
“They must be doing well to afford a church. What kid of law do you think they practice?”
In a church? These days, it’s hard to tell.

One Way Ticket

$300 is a lot to pay for 1.5 hours of mediocre entertainment. I've known people who paid less money for a few minutes of fun and at least got a sexually transmitted souvenir. Today all I got was a small Diet Coke with very large ice and a stewardess demanding that I discontinue the use of my portable electronic device.

But the change of scenery was worth it.