Humbled Perspective

Every now and then I have a moment of clarity that makes all the shit I worry about and surround myself with seem so selfish and irrelevant.

My day started off 4 am, and I dragged myself to the bathroom for the hygiene ritual. Afterwards, I made an espresso that should come with a warning label. I turned my cheesy little computer on and started thinking about the debates I was having online the day before on numerous blogs, and how today is the day that I am going to convince all the assholes and moonbats that don’t see it my way that they are seriously misguided. That thought gave me just as much of a jolt as my espresso.

I fed my little Pug named Flea (his personality and appearance is that of the bass player from Red Hot Chili Peppers), and I set up the coffee machine so my wife can come downstairs and simply push the button to get her java whenever she’s ready. I started preparation for her lunch at work, and my sons breakfast, and I turned on the TV to see if there was anything blowing up in the world.  By that time Flea is done eating and is doing the doo doo two step with that desperate look in his eyes.Right around then, the sun started coming up and the Great Dane in the garage (Ruby) started whining because she needed to make an offering also. So I put on the both dogs’ leashes and off we went. After both dogs did their business, I started looking for cans in the trash. And in my neighborhood they are plentiful.  I live in a townhouse complex, and the residents here are, for the most part, overly materialistic people who waste at a sinful level. My harvesting of recyclables  does a number of positive things. First, my dogs get some really cool snacks. Second, gathering recyclables gives me ammo against liberals who think conservatives dont care. Third, the money from the recyclables is taken to the food bank and used to buy food for the homeless. The food I buy is distributed personally, or dropped off at local churches. While I drove to the church, I was thinking of the war, our borders, what I’m going to make for dinner, and why the driver in front of me won’t move up so I can turn right at the intersection. What a jerk! Doesn’t he have any sense of responsibility for those behind him? The light changed and I crept forward with my right wheels rubbing the curb to get a look at this idiot, who still hasn’t moved to the center of the intersection as most people turning left on green would. I looked and I found that this “jerk” was an old lady, riddled with Alzheimer’s, who could barely keep the cell phone next to her ear due to her head shaking. While I had sympathy, I was outraged that this old lady was even allowed on the road. I rolled down my window and told her, “Ride the bus! ” Afterwards, I quickly went back to thinking about all the little debates I had going on in cyberspace, and what I could say later on when I got home that will put these miscreants in their place.

I arrived at one of the churches that I drop food off at and there was a guy in the parking lot setting up a barbeque chicken fundraiser, with five 30 foot long barbeques and tarps and tables all over the place. He looked at me and says, “You can’t park in here, buddy.” I said to myself, “Buddy?” Hmmm,  I bit my lip and changed the upcoming phrase to “I’ve got 50 pounds of food I’m dropping off for the church, and I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” He said he had 200 pounds of chicken around the corner and needed the space. I figured that since I was on church grounds, I should really refrain from hitting him with dead chickens, so I parked across the street. I grabbed my 50 pounds of canned goods and started to cross the street. As I got to the church parking lot I saw that his dead chickens had still not arrived. I thought to myself, what a fucking asshole.

I got to the distribution center inside the church, and by now I had left every bit of compassion and composure I owned on the curb outside. As I walked through the door, the place was packed with the homeless and the less fortunate, all of whom had no consideration for the guy with the fifty pound box trudging down the hallway. By the time I waded through the crowd and got to dispensary in the back, I was ready to blow. I dropped of the box and the church ladies all said thanks. As I turned around to leave I found myself  standing face-to-face with a man that was screaming over my shoulder at the church ladies, asking if he could please have something to eat right NOW.

Within a few seconds, he had one of those huge king-size Snickers hanging out of his mouth and was practically drooling on me while chomping it down like a starving dog. The feeling of guilt that came across me was mind numbing. Here I am, surrounded by all these things every day that I take for granted, and I drive down the street and act like the whole world should acknowledge my presence. I bitch and get myself all worked up over things that are of no real consequence in the end. I was no longer thinking about the blogs or the idiot in the parking lot or the old lady at the intersection. I looked at this guy and his Snickers and the pain in his eye’s and had to leave, because I had started crying, overcome with remorse and guilt. As I got to the front of the church, I saw the old lady I was screaming at earlier at the intersection arguing with the same guy in the parking lot (who still had no chickens, by the way). He told her the same thing he told me, and that I would show her where to park.

Yeah right… The chicken man was on my shit list now. I went up to the old lady and told her I was sorry for screaming at her earlier. It turned out that at the intersection, she was on the phone with the church I just came out of  so she could get directions to come get some food. Needless to say, now I really felt terrible. While we were talking, the chicken man came up behind me, mumbling about his chickens. I snapped. I turned around, got in his face, and said “Look motherfucker, this old lady has been driving around town all morning trying to find this place because she’s hungry, and all you’re worried about is your fucking chickens! I don’t mind so much that I had to walk across the street, but if you make this old lady do it, I will get on the phone and have 20 of the ugliest, meanest men you’ve ever seen come down here and piss on your chickens!” I told him that the old lady is parking right where I stand, and that I was going to take the old lady into the church, directly to the front of the line, and then put her food in the trunk for her when we were done.

Like a cold Chihuahua he agreed.

Once I get home, as I walked through the door, I looked at the computer and none of the comebacks I planned for my enemy bloggers mattered anymore. I sat down with my two dogs, held them close to me, and quietly cried. Not out of guilt anymore, but out of gratitude.

I still can’t get the guy with Snickers out of my head. His world was dependent on one simple little thing at that moment, and getting that thing made his day. The gratitude and pain in his eyes as he gobbled  down the snickers is what brought me that moment of clarity, one that I really wish could be brought to so many other people who worry about all the senseless things we feel are important.

Put it all down today and go search for someone that needs a moment of clarity, even if it is just a snickers bar.

{ I still go after moonbats}

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