ask: She gives

When I went to my weekly farmers market this Saturday, in my power wheelchair, I placed a bag on the back, one bag handle on each handle behind the chair.

I have been using this bag for the few weeks since I have this loaner wheelchair. When I have bought stuff, I stand up, step around, put stuff in the bag and get back in the chair. Standing up, moving around hurts. If I am moving for longer periods, all my stiff, kinked joints seem to loosen up but for the few moments of getting up to put my persimmons in the bag behind me is a lot more of a challenge than I think it should be. So I have been sending myself messages of self negation, grumbling to myself about growing more disabled.

Last Saturday, I tried something new. When I bought something, I paid for it and then I asked someone, chosen for their proximity to me, if they would please put my bolani in the bag behind me. Or whatever. I am way into the spinach bolani these days. And now I am way into the very nice young men who sell it. They are a free sample operation, almost aggressively offering potential customers all kinds of bolani and all kinds of toppings. They sell the toppings too. I buy some bolani every Saturday so they now see me as a regular. It is always nice to be a regular, in with some humans.

I never asked the bolani guys to put something in my back bag before. The guy had already given me two or three samples of different breads and spreads. He made, he said, a special sample for me, then came over to hand it to me and then to put my purchased items in the bag on the back of my wheelchair.  I thanked him, telling him the samples were delicious and he and his partner were such nice vendors.

As he walked behind my chair with my stuff, just two or three steps, him almost looming over me because I was seated and he was standing, he emanated kindness. So I said so, I said "You are so kind." And he said, and I did not make this up, "I am not kind. I am love."

That statement is still buoying me days later. I see his smile, see his being's light radiating as he came over to help me.

People mostly seem to light up when I ask them, strangers to me, to put something in my bag. People sometimes ask detailed questions to be sure they put it in right. These are flashing, fleeting moments of human connection. I quite enjoy this. And the secret to accessing such light, love and kindness is to ask for help.

Asking the occasional stranger to help me, plus accepting the many offers of help I get through my days (on UC campus, the students fall all over themselves to open doors and ask me if they can do anything else for me. . . such a lovely energy flowing through our exchanges) is allowing me to see something I have known all along but which I can lose sight of:  people not only want to be kind, they need to be kind. That old saw about giving is receiving is true. I am giving people something when I ask them to put my spinach in the bag on the back of my wheelchair. I am giving, and receiving, a moment of kindness, love, connection.

Thank you Goddess.