I'm the queen of spin, putting everything into a perspective that makes me feel lucky and blessed and abundant and free. Knute is ill this weekend, and I felt glad that I could deliver the music for him -- it was certainly easier for me to do than for him. So, into Portland, through the tunnel and spit out onto Market Street, I'm feeling pretty smug about myself. I'm a good person and I'm overcoming discomfort and obstacles and I'm getting the job done. Smug. Right up until I glanced at the sidewalk one block off the freeway and saw three large lumps -- people huddled under sleeping bags or blankets, trying to rest in the cold, damp morning on hard concrete.
My spin went right out the window with my smug. I am ashamed of myself, feeling all righteous because I drove 20 minutes even though I was uncomfortable. In my Prius. Listening to NPR. With my coffee. Yeah, my life is sooo difficult.
I can't imagine what my idea of comfort would be if I had dozed for an hour or two on the dirty sidewalk alongside the noisy freeway with nothing but a damp blanket, and maybe a bag of garbage for a pillow. Walking around when the sun comes out and being able to get dry? Being allowed to sit on a park bench for a few minutes and close my eyes, trying to ignore the people looking down their noses at me because I'm dirty and I have no hairbrush? Finding someone's reasonably-recently-discarded food so I could eat?
Today I have a few hours of brownie work and then I get to take a nap in my king-size bed, or sit in my recliner and watch a movie, or make a pot of chicken soup. Adding to list: take a cup of coffee to someone, anyone, out on the street or standing on the corner with a sign. And be grateful. Always remember to be grateful.