Dear Motorist,
If a cyclist or pedestrian should slow down a little as they approach the road (you know, that whole self-preservation thing), that does not actually mean it’s not a zebra crossing anymore.
Best regards,
Cyclist
Comment
Posts Tagged observations
7 results.
I think I wrote this… Sunday 25th March. It’s taken me a long time to come back here.
—–
This one is for you, my secret reader. =)
I guess it was kind of silly of me to stop writing, right there on the brink of the change. It had to have happened though, you knew that, otherwise there would surely have followed another entry of disappointment and musings on the whys and the might-have-beens. Maybe I’m naturally more inclined towards toward the entries of disappointment… now why would that be?? =P
You too though, right? =)
But, eight weeks almost to the day from when I hit ‘submit’ – for the first of 3 (metaphorical) times – the call came. Friday, a good day. I picked up the phone and dived into a meeting room the same way I always had… and plunged into the new busyness of finishing, and of starting, and of falling into a swirling hive of another world.
They said it was faith-based, and I knew it would be different, and they said not to expect too much, and in a way I expected more of the same of what I had known – how could it be that much different? But it was. And they were.
And I walked through hallways where the Father’s promises spread like banners above a field of green – and He created them male and female, in His own image He created them… let justice roll down like mighty waters, righteousness like an ever-flowing stream… He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more sorrow or crying or pain…
Everyone else walked around casually like they didn’t see the wonder of living under these declarations day after day, but it made my heart beat strangely, and already for me, I wanted that to last.
Interlude: Oh, hon, I just saw the funniest thing. I have to ’fess up, I’m writing in the outdoor area of a McDonalds (yes, I ate their breakfast food, let’s not judge, shall we? =P) and a tiny mixed kid was trotting confidently barefoot past me carrying a takeaway bag, when the largest crow in the world suddenly swooped down and landed on the rubbish bin in front of him. It paused only a second there and took off again, but that kid stopped stock still so suddenly and raised his hands so quickly to his face that his bottle of juice fell out of his bag. I suppose I shouldn’t have laughed. Then his mother was there, picking up the juice and scooping him up in her arms and he stared at me over her shoulder with huge eyes. Not a whimper though. Tough kid – I’d be scared of a crow whose length outstripped the width of my shoulders, too.
Ah… so yes, the new spot.
They think they’ve come a long way toward corporate in the last 5 years or so, and I gather not everyone has been pleased with that, but I tell you, coming the other way, it’s still a pretty big gap.
There’s the lack of hierarchical social restrictions, for one. To be sure, in corporate there were those who chatted to GMs and MDs, but many a time there was also present some wariness – part guarded, part assessment and part, well… part suck-up.
Then there’s the very relational, conversational, café style of lobbying, decision-making and allocation. A little frightening for those of us who want to come in with charts and graphs and formulae.
And this one’s petty – but their spelling and grammar is truly horrific. That is all I have to say about that.
But still, hon. Still.
People pray together, and sometimes they weep as they do so. Senior leadership commit every meeting and strategy session to the oversight of God as they open in prayer. People call each other on their behaviour and attitude toward others, at all levels of the organisation. Managers stand in farewell afternoon teas with tears in their eyes and say to their friend and colleague, “I’m so sorry to see you go. I confess that I was part of the decision-making team, and it shouldn’t be this way.”
Sure, it’s normal here, but it is also extraordinary.
—–
It took me a long time to put this together, secret reader. Help me remember to be grateful.
I must’ve walked past it literally hundreds of times, on the daily journey to the office. It’s probably no wonder, as the wind tunnel at that junction is particularly strong, and most people just tuck their chins down into scarves or coat collars and hurry on. And I’m usually right there amongst them.
But yesterday I saw it, just as I was passing the last tree on the right. Like the entire double row lining the street, this one was stripped bare of any leaves and had been thus for months, by virtue of the season and their exposed position on the hill. Just by chance I happened to glance up, and there it was, probably just as it has been for all that same time.
Close to the top of the tree, one of the sturdiest, neatest, roundest little bird’s nests I’ve ever seen. Woven tightly to a thick branch, it had survived its original inhabitants as well as the elements to which it was now subject. A secure little cup which would be safely hidden from view as the warmer months came and the leaves once again cloaked the branches. I wondered if that industrious little builder might fly back again with a mate to raise another family in summer.
It made me smile all the rest of the way to the office.
A small sign of life, even in the Wastelands.
Tonight, for the first time in what seems like months (most likely because it has been months), we haven’t had the heater on from the moment we reached home after work. Come to think of it, I left off the leather gloves this morning walking to work as well.
Could it be?
Is the cold easing up?
Do we sense… Spring?
A changing season. I could be up for that.
Could I spare some change for gas
I need to get myself away from this place
I said yep, what a concept
I could use a little fuel myself
And we could all use a little change…
I don’t know what to do about people who ask me for money. It’s all the normal questions – what are they really going to use it for, do they really need it, should I give just because I can, etc.
So yesterday night it happened again. The underground station on the end of a bench and I can see him coming, asking the guy sitting on the opposite end of the bench to me. There are four of us seated. I have about 15 seconds to make a decision. He’s tall, olive skinned, with a beanie, dark brows and an oversized coat. God, what do you want me to do?
“Excuse me, could you spare some change? I’m trying to get $20 for a place to stay tonight.” Great, he’s even giving a reason. A reasonable reason, too. Nights have been cold of late. The first man shakes his head and the one who asks moves on. One down, three to go.
“Hi, could you spare some change?” The girl is already reaching into her pocket and passes him a few coins without speaking.
Lord, is he genuine? HS, tip me off here.
“Hi do you have any change?” Newspaper man next to me shakes his head automatically, and then it’s my turn. I look up, making eye contact.
“Hi, could you spare some change at all?”
Crap. God?? I don’t sense any falsity, but neither am I particularly moved by compassion. Heart is drawing a blank here, so this one’s up to the head.
“Let me see if I can help you out,” I say, stalling for time whilst I unzip my bag. “What do you need?” My personal rule for giving money or assistance to beggars is, at minimum, to engage in conversation.
“I’m trying to get $20 for a place to stay tonight.”
“Oh, right. How much have you got?” I dig around in my bag, fumbling for my wallet.
“About $15, need another $5 or so.”
I unzip the coin compartment of my wallet. Good, both gold and silver. “Have you had anything to eat?” I’m now collecting the coins one by one into my hand.
“Had a pie earlier today,” he said. “I’ll try and get some more money later for some food, but it’s more important I get a place in this hostel to sleep tonight.”
The coins clink as they exchange hands. “Well, take care.”
“Thanks.”
And as quickly as he enters, he disappears from view, and from my life.
God…?
I hug my bag, still somewhat unsettled. $5 more to get a place to sleep for a night. I could’ve covered that easily, wouldn’t even have noticed one less note in my wallet. But what if he was lying, and the money was for some less savoury reason? Is it enough to say that my only responsibility was the give (or not to) and be it on his own head as to his intended purpose…?
On the whole I’m much more comfortable with food. I would have been most happy to fork out for a meal for him, and something more substantial than a meat pie too. But I also feel the need to pay for it myself, to know I’ve bought someone food, rather than handed them a $10 and palming them off. I had ten minutes to my train, enough time to head upstairs with him, to get him something at that local food court. Even if was just a burger and large fries. Even if I’d have missed my train and then needed to wait for the next one.
Sigh.
God…? I still don’t sense anything in particular. It’s all right though, I guess it’s not clear every time, and I think one instance of silence doesn’t disqualify me from asking again next time.
Till next time, then.
I choose a role of service, that I may not be tempted by greed.
I choose to lose the board game, so I can win the relationship.
I choose not to give advice, so she may find her own way.
I sit backwards on the train, so I can face the sunrise.