Ponderance

A morbidly obese man comes into Planet Care from time to time. There are periods in which he comes regularly.  Then there are stretches of time in which I never see him.  For a while, he came in nearly every day.  He would be wearing workout-type clothing and look flushed and sweaty as if he'd been exercising.  He would carefully select food from the salad bar, purchase it and sit in the cafe to eat.

Over time, I could tell that he was losing weight.  I knew it was an immense challenge for him.  But he seemed to be on the right track. I felt compelled to tell him that I noticed the results of his efforts.  But I never found the courage to do so.

He came into the store the other day.  He looked as if he'd gained some weight since the last time I saw him. He seemed to be having trouble walking.  He leaned onto the shopping cart in front of him, walking slowly through the store.  He came up to the juice bar and I was overly nice to him.  He would not look at me.  He pondered the selections and asked for a sixteen ounce vegetable juice containing carrots, kale, beet, cucumber, garlic and ginger.  I promptly made this juice for him and handed it to him with all the love I could muster. He never looked at me. 

I watched as he walked to the nearest cashier.  He wore shorts which revealed the dark red of his calves from above his socks nearly to his knees. I know this to be a bad sign.  One of the many complications occurring when one's body cannot handle the excess weight.  I know that obesity could kill this man.  I know it is making his life extremely challenging.  I know that this man has a beautiful starry-eyed daughter who seems to love her father. I know he has everything to gain by working very hard to improve his health.

I know this: I am rooting for him. 

~~~

A woman comes into Planet Care from time to time.  She carries with her a dark cloud.  She speaks as if she is constantly exasperated.  She rolls her eyes in disdain without even realizing she does this.  She orders me to make her a smoothie drink.  She watches as I put the ingredients into the blender and corrects me when I put in too much of one ingredient or too little of another. I feel her exasperation permeating my atmosphere and I sigh rather loudly.  In my imagination, she feels victorious by having made me exasperated like her.  In my mind, she feels vindicated by my exasperation.  And I remember a meme I ran across recently on fecesbook: 

I delivered the smoothie drink to the unpleasant woman and smiled, graciously thanking her and saying, "I hope you enjoy that." 

~~~

An elderly man, very smartly dressed, was walking towards the doors of Planet Care.  On his way out of the store, he paused to pick up one of several free publications on display.  As he paused, I heard him sing, "Que sera, sera.  Whatever will be, will be.  The future's not ours to see.  Que sera, sera." 

For some reason, this struck me as a bit menacing.  I imagined Nick Cave doing a version of this sweet little ditty.  And I thought how very true to life this juxtaposition is.  

The sweetness and the menacing are all but a razor's edge apart.  Darkness in all its myriad forms threatens to envelop us.  But the fundamental sweetness and delicacy of Life permeates even the most menacing darkness.  

Allow the darkness.  Allow the light.  Do not deny yourself the experience of either.  There is no use pretending that darkness does not exist and there is no use pretending that the darkness never ends.  We can deprive ourselves of joy just as we can deprive ourselves of sorrow.  Both will nourish us.  But only if we can allow them to be what they are: temporary states.  And no more.