Pausing In A Parking Lot

On Sunday afternoon, I had gotten in my car in the parking lot of a shopping center. I had left my dog in the car for the short time I was in the store and when I closed my door, a woman approached my car clearly wanting my attention. I rolled down my window expecting her to say something judgmental about my leaving a dog in the car or, more benignly, she possibly needed directions. She immediately started talking rapidly in that run on, apologetic way, stating her case as to why she needed money. It is a story I've heard countless times on subways...that she lost her job and has kids to feed and how awful it was to have to ask, but that she didn't know what else to do. There was no pause in her words and there was no pause in my reactions. I opened my wallet, took out a bill, and handed it to her. In my nervousness, I wished her luck and regretted the poor choice in words. Luck had nothing to do with it, nor did it capture what I did wish for her. As she walked away, I saw tears had been flowing down the sides of her cheek, hidden from the front by the big, dark sunglasses. I drove on surprised by the interaction. I get asked for money often in NYC, but I've never had it happen quite this way, in a shopping center in NJ where I live. 

I went to meditation a few hours later where the moment kept returning to me while I practiced pausing and not reacting. I realized how quickly my knee-jerk reactions set in at that moment. The assumptions, the fear, the unasked questions, the quick decision to give or not give money. I couldn't get the sight of her tears out of my mind. In those tears, I saw the person that I couldn't at first glance see. I wondered if they were tears of shame, the thought of which makes my heart ache. I wish I had asked her more, inquired of her suffering, showed true compassion, no matter what her story. Pausing in that moment and offering a listening, empathic presence would have cost me nothing, but may have given her something much more than the money I gave. After that wish came down over me, I also recognized the vulnerable position I was in at that moment. I did not know who she was, what she wanted, and I was constricted within my car. Just this week, a couple's car was hijacked at a nearby, upscale mall and the man was shot dead. It was an unusual crime in the area. We never know what could happen and so my knee-jerk reactions may not be so off, but I have greater trust in good than in bad. In retrospect, I am aware that this woman and I shared a common feeling in that parking lot. Our experiences might have looked different, but we were both afraid. 

This speaks to my last post on trust, again. If I had relied on trust in that moment, I might have been able to act from my "higher" self. Trust in what? Trust in knowing that no one can really hurt me if I come from an honest, loving, heartfelt place. It is a trust in myself, in love, and in goodness. From here I can have a conversation, create an opening, let someone know that he/she is seen and matters.

I will keep practicing pausing and staying without reacting because I aspire to live from this place of love, free from fear, open and full because I need nothing more. Christmas week is upon us. Gifts will be given; kids will be excited. As I give and receive, I will remember this woman whose story I don't know, though the very words she used I've heard before. I will give thanks for the abundance that I am surrounded with and wish the same abundance be felt by anyone who asks for it, even if the asking is for small change through a rolled down window in a parking lot.