This Zen cruise took shape the other night:
I was on my way to meet some old New York cronies at a billiard hall on the west coast. The streets were puddled from the day's rain as I puffed on a healthy joint strolling down the main boulevard. Chattin' up a storm with meself absorbing lights and sounds that surround puff puffin' away like a slow steam engine on the central track. Bars approaching I clipped the joint and placed it on a shopfront windowsill for later retrieval.
Further down the street I passed a bum who was silently begging with his cardboard sign and his head hung low in the soggy night. His energy felt desperate and sad. I reached the corner and then turned around with the idea of giving him the joint clip that would help him get some shuteye and forget all his worries, if only temporarily. I was already quite nicely toasted and it put a silly smile on my face picturing the delight I was going to bring to this bum's bumlife. I could just picture him cozying up in a concrete corner somewhere and inhaling to his bumheart's content.
He put his hand out for the handout (that's why they call it that) and I said, "You can have the rest of this joint to smoke." He hesitated. "I just stopped doing drugs" he said in a muffled shybum tone. Feeling terrible but at the same time thinking 'How on earth did I find the one bum who gives you back what you gave them?' I snatched the clip back out of his hand. I told him I was sorry, which I was, but then I realized that he needed that kind of incident, that temptation, to strengthen him. He should be proudbum, living on the streets without a drug habit to support might make his life easier. Less distractions and more time to enjoy complete bummin' freedom.
So there I was, back to strolling down the main drag with a burnt joint. 'Who will be the lucky winner of temporary toastiness?' I thought. Selfish judgmental me was not going to give it to just anybody- a quick cosmic evaluation would be necessary. It would not be given to the tightsleeved buffbros or the nasal-voiced short-skirted goof troop (as if) or the no eye contact hidden agenda cool crew; then who? who would it be given to? I was just a block away from my destination but I knew that I would find the rightful heir to the roach. Crossing the street, my ears perked up to a male voice speaking behind me:
"I just think that we can have physical contact that is not sexual. Like, sometimes I just wanna share a bed with a girl and just cuddle, no sex or hooking up or anything. Why can't everyone realize how important the human touch is?"
As soon as he said "human touch" I spun around real quick to see an early twenties threesome, the kid who was talking in the middle walking arm in arm with two girls, just your average suburban hipkids on the Friday night prowl. What beautiful words to hear, whether they were alcohol induced or not.
I had recently had discussions about human touch; how we long for it by nature and that it is a necessary component of happiness. I chimed in with a wild cosmic finger pointing at them, "Yes! Yes, that's it! That is what I like to hear!" They all looked up a bit surprised at this strange eavesdropper. Their energy changed, instantly becoming a bit protective - something I am used to being a fan of random human interaction. In order to open them up I had to prove my worth and I did so with a concise verbal flow direct from the Zen realm (where many of my thoughts are founded): "We are all sensual creatures and we long for human touch and all physical contact does not have to be sexual. It is one of the best ways to express love, which is everything, which is all we require in the whole entire universe. It is all LOVE. Don't ever be afraid to express love in any form, and being all lovey dovey is not corny and showing affection needs to become a daily practice of our lives."
I had stopped walking during my rant and now they had reached me and were smiling so I hopped on the love train and was walking arm in arm with them. "Exactly, so true," the one girl was saying. "Totally," exclaimed the guy as he was putting a cigarette in his mouth to light it. The cigarette bounced off of his lips and onto the wet pavement.
We have a winner!
Before he could bend down to pick up the cig I had my free arm outstretched to him. "I think you should smoke this instead." All of their eyes lit up and the cigarette went forgotten. I gave him the roach, then gave them all big loving hugs and went along on my very merry way, smiling awe as usual. Happy for making them happy. Happy for hearing conscious thoughts so close to my own that are a rarity on that street where on any given weekend night the human spirit gets twisted in an alcoholic fog and becomes unrecognizable. Just happy and grateful for the constant unfolding zen flow (truth) that takes ordinary occurrences and zaps them into rainbows that brighten my soul.
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