Wednesday, August 22, 2012


A young black man asked me for money just now.  He looked the part of a beggar.  I didn't have any so I told him so.  He then asked me for food...

I said no.

Did he inconvenience me so?  Was his existence such a burden to me that I couldn't be bothered?  I told him sorry, but now I am the one who feels sorrow.  Sorrow at being so...small.  Sorrow at being so dependably typical.

I went back to find him but I was running late.  Is the peace of mind of knowing that I might have helped a fellow human not worth ten fucking dollars?  To err on the side of humanity < $10? I give money to charities  who help others a world away.  But given the opportunity to do so with my hand, looking into someone's eyes, I failed.

Strange thing is: I've passed this test before.  We all think of ourselves as people of integrity.  But integrity requires consistency.  And reality gets in the way of our dreams.

I see myself as a person of generosity, of a magnanimous spirit.  I have to practice being that person.