Generosity

Around 8 PM last thursday, I boarded a rather empty train to finally go back home. As I sat there, I instantly started reviewing the happenings of the day - It started with an statistics final, which I'd been dreading ever since I learned I'd have to study statistics. After that traumatic experience, things ran much more smoothly; I spent a great deal of time at the library, had lunch and ran to my French class. By the time I was ready to go, I realized it was already 4:30. Anyone who lives in São Paulo knows what this means: Super packed public transportation. Knowing I'd have to spend at least 1 hour and a half commuting under such unpleasant conditions, I quickly concluded I'd be better off staying a few more hours at college.

*

So, there I was: sitting in the midst of people who looked incredibly tired. They were probably dreaming of tasty meals and hot showers, just as I was. Four more stations, and then I'd finally be home. As I reached for my music device, I heard a squeaky voice that I found hard to ignore. I looked up, and I saw one of those people who sell candy on the train. There was nothing specially different about him - aside from his voice - but the candy caught my eye. Not because I love sweets anyway, but because they were so carefully and thoughtfully wrapped. I though of the time he must have spent in doing that at his home and then I though of the many train wagons he most have hopped in and out to sell them. I wondered how tired he'd feel at the end of the day and how lucrative his business was. Neither of my thoughts led to happy conclusions.

*

I decided to buy the candy. I opened my wallet, but with grand surprise I realized there was no money at all. With a disappointed smile, I apologized and told the expectant candy seller that I wouldn't buy anything because I was out of coins. He gave me a two-second perplexed look and then moved away without saying a word.

*

As I wondered if he had gotten mad because I somehow made him believe I was going to buy his product and then didn't, he approached me again:

*

"Hey there, do you want this?"

*

Now I was the one giving him a perplexed look. Was he offering me candy despite the fact that I was broke for the day?

*

"If you want to have this, go on and take it."

*

I was still trying to figure out why he was doing that, but managed to refuse politely and thank him. The train doors opened and he got off.

*

When this man first boarded the train, he announced he was in a bad financial situation and that any kind of help would be more than welcomed. Why on Earth would he want to give me free candy? I tried to rationalize what had just happened, but I didn't succeed.

*

I guess he was simply being generous to a stranger. Despite the difficulties, despite his life. I'll never know what led him to do that, but the one thing I know is that he taught me a lesson. His generosity made me feel really ashamed, for I don't know if I would be concerned about being generous were I in his shoes. I don't even know if I'm as generous as I could and should be today. Probably not, but I'm comitted to be more like the man who sells neatly-wrapped candy on the train.

To: Laura

Dearest friend,

You are about to uncover the mysteries of South America on your own. How brave!

Before wishing you “have a nice trip”, there are two things I wanted to say:

First - Take a journal. Some interesting thoughts may cross your mind, and I guess you’ll want to put them down on paper.

Second - When you reach a mountain peak or something of the sort, promise me you will remember to do this: stop with the picture-taking frenzy for a minute and move away from the noisy tourist groups (if it is safe of course). Try to give yourself some privacy. Inhale as if it were your last breath; hold it for a few seconds, and then exhale as if you wanted to freeze that moment for a bit longer than it’s actually going to last. Now, look around and realize how completely overwhelmed you feel. Do not try to grasp or turn anything into a concept. Do not become nostalgic before you even know something is over. Just be aware of the inexplicable magic and stay present.

Something tells me some of your questions will be answered then.

When you come back, please, don’t share this experience. Keep it to yourself. The secrecy will make it even more real and special.


I trust that you will make this a memorable trip, Laura!

Bon Voyage,

Carol

La Fleur

Watching this flower bloom was thrilling. I can’t remember the last time I stopped to appreciate such genuine and unpretentious beauty. I had forgotten there were still such things in this world crowded by people who have become artificial, showing off silicone-made parts and over-inflated egos.

About This Lady I Saw At The Train Station

It almost looked like she was dancing. As I watched her sweep the dusty train platform this morning, my ever-curious mind wondered what thoughts might be crossing her mind. Would she be thinking of the miseries of life? Or would she be just mentally grunting about the chilly weather? She didn’t seem deeply concentrated on her task, but she moved swiftly. I also noticed how she didn’t mind the hurrying passengers and how they didn’t seem to mind her either. Sad thing about living in busy cities and managing hectic lives is that we rarely bother to really look at people.

*

I was awaken from my stupor as soon as the train doors closed and life took off.

Why...

...do we tend to create expectations about virtually everything? About people, about outcomes, about life? Our most futile or intimate wishes almost never correspond to what reality delivers (sometimes with a good slap on our face).