we don't really own anything.
What is this competition we feel then,
before we go, one at a time,
through the same gate?"
Rumi
Many of my deeply felt moments and soul’s discoveries happen in
the most unglamorous of times – on the way to the subway in the morning. When
the world is still quite, one can see the invisible and hear the unspoken…
I walk to the subway alone, very early in the morning. But I have
my morning buddies who are part of my routine, there, on my journey. There is
Joe, who opens the hardware store on our block. He smiles at me, says hello and
scolds me if I don't have an umbrella when I should. He also always finds the
right thing to say, as if he knows what my day might look like, “Take good care
today” or “Good luck!” or “Take it easy” or “Be well”. There is a down-the-street
neighbor who smokes and coughs loudly. His hellos are intertwined with a whole
ensemble of gurgling sounds. But he
seems to be genuinely happy to see me. Once he wasn't there for a few days in a
row and when I finally saw him, he said almost apologetically, "Hello! I went
to see my kids in Virginia”. And there is a lady in a green hat trying to
figure out if things add up on her calculator and shakes her head as I pass by.
She doesn't wear her hat anymore... I wonder if she lost it. And she seems
sadder than before. And then, there is a tall elderly gentleman with beautiful
grey hair, who always walks his very old dog. The man walks slowly. But his
legs are long and he makes wide steps. The dog is breathing hard to catch up
with him. Even though walking must be hard work, I could swear the dog has a
smile on his face. They both do. I can tell that this has been their routine
since the beginning of time. The man has a fresh New York Times in his hand .
After we pass by each other, the dog and the man stop for a moment and the man kneels
down and gives the dog a hug and the dog hugs him back. I always turn around and look at them for a
moment. And I think, how lucky for them to have found each other.
And then one recent morning I suddenly saw the man alone. His long
legs were still making big strides, he still had a longish beautiful grey hair,
fresh New York Times was in his hand. Everything was exactly the same except the
dog wasn’t next to him. We exchanged glances. His eyes said it all. My eyes
said, "I am sorry you lost him". And both of us continued walking in
opposite directions. And then I turned back, as I did so many times before. And
the man slowed down and almost kneeled like he had done so many times before. Then
he ran his hand trough his hair and walked on.
You might think, "So
what. All of us pass by people and old dogs on the way to some place. Why is
this any special, Blog-worthy? Just part of life." And I am thinking – exactly.
It’s not special and yet it is special at the same time. I feel that I was a
witness to something ordinary and timeless – this man’s moment
of realization of temporariness and fragility of it all. It gave me pause and
reminded me of the magic and the mystery of everything’s, everyone’s fleetingness.
Someone wise once said that the Universe is unfolding exactly as it should, we
are just not always aware of the rules. Maybe
life is like a lost and found bureau. It works like the clock. Some things, some ones are lost and found
every second on our big, small planet. There are beginnings, there are endings,
and in between, there is life and universe unfolding exactly as it should... and
somehow we are all connected in this routine.
We are all one. Sometimes we are fully present and aware, more times we
are not.
I never saw the man again. But I know he is just like all of us – living in
this space between lost and found. If we ever met again, perhaps I can quote
Rumi and we can hope together that he was right when he said “Don’t grieve.
Anything you lose comes round in another form.” 
