Saturday, June 8, 2013

The Magic Cafe

What if there existed a cafe that was dusty and antique and Parisian and magical?

It would be an obscure tiny undiscovered cafe-- one with no regulars because it is too hard to find.

People might only stumble upon it once or twice in their lifetimes.



Because it keeps moving.

It is a traveling cafe.

It sets up shop by night or day and is gone the next.

It is a cafe of miraculous design.

And when those who are lucky enough happen to stumble upon the cafe and actually walk through its doors, their lives are never again the same.

Walking through its doors signifies something wondrous is about to occur.

When you sit at one of the enchanted tables, grand ideas suddenly emerge, you are present and enlightened. The answers to your deepest questions are suddenly revealed to you almost as if you always knew what you have just realized.

Your deepest sorrows will miraculously cease to cause you pain. The memories won't disappear, your soul's ability to process sorrow and learn from it only has only been heightened so you are now more equipped to understand how true sorrow can shape your spirit...

Perhaps most magical is the cafe's ability to connect strangers and loved ones. Your soul mate from a different lifetime who you never thought you'd stumble upon is now sitting at the table in front of you and you are mysteriously drawn to this individual in a way you've never experienced. Your eyes lock. Your soul mate walks over to you and draws the chair, sitting down next you. Your life will never be the same.

Your long-lost family member has just walked through the door and ordered an espresso. You have been reunited after years of searching.

Your childhood best friend is sitting across the cafe and after twenty minutes you both see each other and understand you were supposed to meet once more so that you could explore the world together, make up for lost time, have adventures, and swim in oceans in far distant lands.

In fact, this cafe is so breathtaking and life-changing, that it can only exist in one plane, one realm, for one set amount of time.

The cafe knows it must keep moving, must keep changing the lives of all who walk through its doors.

And if you are so lucky to stumble upon this cafe twice in your lifetime, you will only have the faintest feeling that you have been there once before.

 A warmth will fill your entire being with such mystery and happiness, that you will simply feel compelled to stop for a moment, order a cup of coffee, and wait for whatever magic might happen next.


Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Infected Train

His infection looked quite serious.

He pulled the leg of his jeans up to show the train-car of passengers his wound and begged us all for help. Not in a hysterical way, not in a belligerent way. In a very sad and ashamed kind of way.

And every passenger on that train stared at him. I could even hear a few disgusted gasps as he displayed the infected gash on his calf. I thought, surely, once the passengers saw this, they would act on compassion and help him. But no one moved except me. I immediately reached into my purse as everyone else disconnected and looked at their electronic devices or listened to music from their ipods. Everyone else ignored him.

He had said he was homeless, he had just come from Rush Hospital and was trying to fill a prescription that was $18 dollars and he only had $4, and as he winced in pain, I thought to myself, this man is begging for medical attention. I seriously doubted he would be using any of this money for booze or illegal drugs, I could only hope that he was being honest and as soon as he got this money he would fill the prescription for antibiotics.

He just kept saying he was sorry, he didn't want to bother any of us, he just didn't know what else to do. His eyes looked so full of sorrow and shame. And either he was a wonderful actor or his energy was so sad and desperate that I barely thought twice about helping him.

I looked into my wallet and realized I only had a $10 bill.

He was close to my age and wore a zip up hoodie, his face looked lined with worry and his eyes were small and slightly glassy. He had a non-threatening frame, carried a backpack, and as soon as he'd hobbled onto that train I'd known something was wrong. I'd kept my eyes on him and part of me wondered if this was a man who had perfected his scam or if this was a man who truly needed medical care.

I nodded at him and he came over to me and I handed him the $10 bill.

"I'm so sorry," he said to me. "I'm so sorry, thank you."

I just nodded my head at him with compassion. He sat back down. No one else moved to help him.

"I'll be getting off at the next stop," he announced to the car after several minutes. "If anyone else can help. I'm so sorry, I don't mean to be bothering anyone."

But no one else helped him.

He got up and looked at me sadly before he got off the train, "I'm sorry," he told me again. His face and voice sounded pathetic, like he had no idea what else to do anymore, like he was at the end of his rope and hadn't wanted to beg but could come up with no other way.

"It's okay," I told him.

And he got off the train.

I was astonished that no one else had offered to help him. Was I just that much of a gullible sap? Was I just buying into this young man's act? Was he really not suffering and simply fantastic at putting on a show? But the wound. What about that wound? It really did look very bad. He'd said that he didn't have a medical card and the prescription was $18 dollars. But if he didn't have insurance, wouldn't antibiotics be much more expensive than that? Were generics not that expensive even without insurance? My mind swirled around as I wondered if everyone else on that train had chosen not to get involved because they didn't believe him and I was just a sucker, or if no one else had helped because they did not care.

I suppose I won't ever know.

I've lived in Chicago for almost 7 years and I've seen scores of homeless people and beggars and I've ignored most and helped some. But I hadn't recalled a situation like this--and this urge to immediately assist because I felt it was the right thing to do.

I can only hope that the man will find his way, whether he was lying or not.

Because whether it was medically or emotionally or physically or all of the above, this man had been suffering. And at least for me, I find it incredibly difficult to look into the eyes of a soul who is truly suffering, and just turn the other way.