Thursday evenings, after leaving the Zendo,
on the ride home
I always can sense a lighter me.
I embrace the night.
As I pull into the gas station,
a young man,
not much older than my son,
in a wheel chair
is making his way in front of me to an old red sedan
at the opposite side of the pump.
He is alone. We are just two strangers passing in the night.
In his wheelchair, he makes his way between the car and the pump to put gas in his car
only to get a wheel stuck in a hole.
A momentary snag,
it has no effect on him, he just says “Oh I am stuck in a hole”.
No anger, no resentment, nothing, just noticing. Then skillfully maneuvering around it.
I thought for a moment, should I help?
But sensed that he was very capable of handling the situation himself.
I commented that we all fall into holes sometimes.
He smiled as did I, knowingly.
He finished pumping the gas,
opened the drivers door and slid in,
grabbed his wheel chair, with one hand removed a wheel and put it in the passenger side,
then lifted up the wheel chair, folded it and put it in the passenger seat too.
Started the car and drove away.
You can call him handicapped if you want,
but I will say he was a master of his own life.
Next time you are stuck in a hole, will you get out?