Sometimes Its Hard

Flying to George the other day I was seated next to a formidable looking woman. Even my customary charm wilted under her thousand-yard stare, hiding what pain, I don’t know. I lowered my eyes and glanced at her smartphone and saw a picture of a man fading out as the screensaver faded to black. Her husband I assumed. Her wedding band, dulled by a hard life, attested to this.

No sooner had the plane taken off and I was wrapped up in my own thoughts and dismissed her from my consciousness.

But her pain was palatable and scratched at me. As much as I tried, I couldn’t ignore this open wound sitting next to me. We hadn’t said a word to each other yet. I reached out (something I seldom do these days) and patted her hand. Talk about taking a risk! Luckily for me she didn’t call the air hostess to have me arrested. Instead, she opened up. She told me about her husband who was killed in a ‘farm murder’ two years ago. She was in the room at the time. She told me how she has run the farm alone since then and how excited she is that her son will be taking it over soon.

When I hear tragedies like this it is sometimes hard to stay positive.

I’m Ashamed

It is also a lesson to me that every human being I interact with has his or her own challenges. And, it makes me ashamed. I’m ashamed that I think my petty problems are important. I’m ashamed that I more often than not sit on high and judge people. I’m ashamed that I sometimes take an instant dislike to people. I’m scared. I’m scared that my spiritual journey has not made an iota of difference to my consciousness; I’m still a bad human.

I’m Scared

Also, I’m scared that I’m a fraud. I beat the drum of happiness. I tell whomever will listen that they have a choice and that the choice is simple: One either chooses to be happy or not. I say life will throw curve balls at you to derail your happiness. I say choose to be happy anyway.

Sometimes it is hard to believe that. Seriously, “Choose happiness?” Tell that to my friend who recently had his heart broken and suffered a real heart attack. Tell that to two amazing souls I’ve recently connected with … they’ve been respectively afflicted with exotic sounding conditions – Trigeminal Neuralgia and Myasthenia Gravis (look it up, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy). Tell that to a man I admire greatly as he lay in hospital feeling like a horse had kicked him in his chest after his second Myocarditis incident. I sense the fear in him. Tell that to my friend who has lost her business, is staying with friends and can’t afford medicine for her son’s chronic earache. He looks to her to salve his pain. She turns her head in shame and can’t look him in the eyes. Tell that to the starving, destitute and downtrodden. I think they’ll spit in my sanctimonious face. It’s all I would deserve.

It’s Hard

Yes, I know my Christian friends will say that God has a plan and the Devil is trying to derail that. Some of my Muslim friends might say, “So it is written.” I haven’t asked my Jewish friends yet. But, I’m sure they too will have a neatly packaged answer. Tolle, Castaneda and countless spiritual texts will say, “Live in the moment, be in awe and be grateful.”

They’re probably right. But you know what? Sometimes it’s hard.