Pay Attention
An older woman fell outside a coffee shop in Jacksonville, Oregon, today. She’d fallen just a few minutes before my friend and I arrived. We came around the corner chattering about the old brick buildings that would most likely collapse in an earthquake, and we were moving at such a brisk clip that the scene on the street didn’t register right away.
The woman was sitting up on the sidewalk, her legs straight out before her. A young woman crouched at her left side, supporting the injured person who leaned into her. Someone else pressed a towel and icepack to the back of the old woman’s head.
I was so much in my masculine, going, going, that I stepped right over the woman’s legs and took two steps on before a brainvoice said, Whoa! What did you just do?
I stopped. My friend, more present than I’d been, had already stopped and was looking down at the fallen person with compassion and sympathy. I bent forward, my features softening, as I tuned into what was happening at sidewalk level. I saw that the towel was bloodstained. I heard the injured woman speak, and that was good. I noted that three people kneeled around her, so I held my space and concentrated on sending calm, healing energy to her.
But I was embarrassed. Every day my lack of awareness startles me. How could I miss for one moment the spectacle of a woman injured on the street right in front of me? How can I miss so many things?
But I do. Every day. I walk on by, drive along, or push my way through a crowd. Sometimes I’m acting aggressive, and other times I’m just oblivious. As hard as I practice toward being awake and aware, I slip back over and over again.
The difference between now and years ago is this: I take note. I review my actions, and I practice all the more. By doing so, I believe that I will step over the fallen less and less until the day comes when I’ll be the fallen and the comforter all at once. That’s the glory I’m going for. How about you?