the way you get places is a gigantic part of your life in new york city. i guess that's true of anywhere, but it feels really in-your-face here. your commute is engrained in you. the faces that become so familiar, the stations at which you transfer, the beam you decide to stand next to because it lines up exactly with a door that will open... X marks the spot, all that stuff.
i transfer at west fourth street: a roof for many homeless. it's ironic to me that the homeless set up shop in a busy train station. leaning against a wall surrounded by all the belongings they have in this world, watching everyone hop quickly on and off trains, whisking them away to their next destinations.
i sat next to an older man the other morning. it was way, way too early. and i'm always wondering how people seem to sleep so soundly on a wooden bench in the heaviness that is the underground stench. i did the same thing the next day. there he was: exact same spot, exact same position; feet pulled out of his shoes, resting on top of them - arms crossed.
i thought about everything that i had done in the last twenty-four hours. about how much had changed for me. emotions, different bits of news, relational dynamics, my bank account, hygiene... everything had been altered. and maybe everything for him had as well, but seeing him in the exact same position at the exact same hour, one day later - reminded me that... while brokenness abounds, my world continues to rotate.
i've been stuck before - what a horrible season. the perceived inability to have any say-so on my day-to-day operations. what a lie! the amount of control we have over our actions is - unlimited by God or man. we choose... we choose where our money goes, how we treat people, what we eat, our attitudes towards life in general.
in my story, i can think of a few instrumental people who have helped me to jump outside of myself and remind me that i have that control.
i hope you have some people like that.
i transfer at west fourth street: a roof for many homeless. it's ironic to me that the homeless set up shop in a busy train station. leaning against a wall surrounded by all the belongings they have in this world, watching everyone hop quickly on and off trains, whisking them away to their next destinations.
i sat next to an older man the other morning. it was way, way too early. and i'm always wondering how people seem to sleep so soundly on a wooden bench in the heaviness that is the underground stench. i did the same thing the next day. there he was: exact same spot, exact same position; feet pulled out of his shoes, resting on top of them - arms crossed.
i thought about everything that i had done in the last twenty-four hours. about how much had changed for me. emotions, different bits of news, relational dynamics, my bank account, hygiene... everything had been altered. and maybe everything for him had as well, but seeing him in the exact same position at the exact same hour, one day later - reminded me that... while brokenness abounds, my world continues to rotate.
i've been stuck before - what a horrible season. the perceived inability to have any say-so on my day-to-day operations. what a lie! the amount of control we have over our actions is - unlimited by God or man. we choose... we choose where our money goes, how we treat people, what we eat, our attitudes towards life in general.
in my story, i can think of a few instrumental people who have helped me to jump outside of myself and remind me that i have that control.
i hope you have some people like that.
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