There's a Point Here Somewhere

I do try to listen, I really do.  It's hard to discern this because I always seem to be talking and it's usually about myself.  The message I'm perceiving right now is that helping someone else instead of thinking about myself might be a wise plan.  Pshaw, I say.

There was a blip in my life once when I wasn't feeling very good and Ken suggested that reaching out to someone less fortunate than me might be helpful.  I protested, maintaining that I didn't think I had anything to give at that point.

"Maybe that's when you most need to reach out," he said.

(Ed. Note: a guy just stopped by my table here at he overpriced specialty coffee shop, where I'm lolling in the sun - he's a sad, sad case, someone I know from my morning meeting before we had to ban him from the group because he kept disappearing into the interior of the church, hiding out, an action frowned upon by the church staff who would bump into him from time to time.  His face and arms are covered with what I assume must be meth sores.  He rambled on in a marginally coherent fashion for a bit.  Apparently he's a sharp guy when he's on his anti-psychotic medicine which he clearly is not).

There's my service work presented to me on a silver platter.  I've always been nice to him and he recognizes me although I don't think anything I say is sinking in very deeply.

Anyway, when I'm off my game my main impulse is to go off alone and think, and not about someone else, I'll tell you that.  My M.O. is not to think about how I can be of service.  I'm here to be the one being serviced.

One of my buddies last night shared about how he first has to try everything - absolutely everything - before he's willing to let go of whatever is bothering him.

Man, oh, man.

"Be the change you want to be in the world."  Gandhi