Thirty years ago …
I stand at the curb at an intersection downtown; the sidewalk overflows with the lunchtime crowd. The intense summer sun warms my skin. I await the signal to cross the street.
DON’T WALK vanishes.
WALK takes its place.
I step from the curb.
Before my foot can reach the pavement, a man to my left flings an arm to my gut. A car races past, abruptly displacing the available crosswalk and my oblivion.
Stunned, I thank him and walk on with the crowd.
If the man had first checked the color of my skin or my gender …
If he had needed to know how I understood God …
Had my politics mattered …
I would not have known what hit me.
Life is precious.
Impermanence is swift.
Deep down, we all know the same truth.
Deep down, we know where to meet.
In boundless presence—
In the openness of being
that is not shaped by
fabricated valuations of deservedness.
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© 2011 Bev Forsman and Letters from Emptiness. If you share this material, please include direction to the original content. Thank you.