Monday, August 25, 2014

Traffic Passing By


I sit in the library writing.
I look out the second floor window at the traffic passing by.
The one way street passes from my right to my left.
There is a traffic light to the left of my field of view.
Many cars and a few trucks are part of the stop and go parade.
When there is a convention in town then there are lots of buses too.

Each vehicle has left Point A and is moving to Point B.
Each driver is making many smart choices, otherwise there would be wrecks.
Each moving metal machine contains one or more precious souls.

Ultimately I live inside my own skin.
I have access to my thoughts and feelings.
I can only make indirect and incomplete contact with other people.
I am grateful when others are open and honest with me.
Many times I have been inspired by those that overcame obstacles.
Sometimes I am amazed at the range of experiences that others have.

I have had the privilege of peeking inside a few transparent friends.
I have enjoyed excellent interviews.
I have attended support groups where the masks came off.
I have been in love a few times and known that kind of intimacy.
I have delighted at the personal stories they shared with me.
Yet each passing vehicle contains a collection of stories and a bundle of possibilities.

The continual flow of vehicles reminds me that we are so many that share this city.
This city is large contrasted to others in the area.
But it is much smaller than cities in other countries.

It is so easy to judge others.
It takes no effort to notice the imperfections in the stranger.
Ordinary people do not look like or behave like glossy celebrities.

It requires intention and discipline to notice the good in others.
It involves choosing to accept and respect the other one just as they are.

We are divinely designed to give and receive love.
There are no perfect people on the planet.
Each of those who are available to be loved are imperfect.

I have no idea how to best end this, so I will stop right here.

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