I have been thinking a lot about connections lately. Why we meet the people we meet on our journey and how the universe shuffles and sifts us into these encounters and experiences.
This afternoon while driving home from an safe, physical distancing, mask covered, hand sanitized outing, we passed by the tent village at the bottom of the Henderson overpass before Main Street.
And I cried. I full stop, loss for words, overcome with grief and empathy - cried.
Here are people out in the elements, with little more than a thin tent between them and the elements. Although it is closely approaching summer - it was a very chill 10˚c today.
At least 3 times my wife and I commented on how cold it was on our outing, and how we couldn't wait to get home. Now, in that split second I was again reminded of how privileged I was to have a home to go back to.
My immediate thought was, how can I help fix this?
Obviously I can't fix much, I can't even push a shopping cart with my two frozen shoulders, but as I thought about those people in their thin tents, shopping carts parked outside - it brought me back to this idea of human connections.
When I was 25 or so I was stopped at a red light downtown. I was at the light across from The Bay right adjacent to the bus depot, and a woman jumped into my car.
It was a HOT day - so hot, that I had the windows to my car down to try and cool off. No air conditioning in that car. She simply reached inside the window and opened the door, flopping down in the passenger seat just as the light changed.
I was shocked, puzzled and really mystified at her brazen and bold maneuver... until she spoke.
She was clearly on a substance of some kind and was not herself. She immediately started singing along to the radio. I had it tuned to CBC and they were playing a traditional Ukrainian song, in Ukrainian, which she obviously also didn't speak.
I said; "Hi, I'm Christine" - she responded with a grunt and kept singing.
No name provided, no communication.
My thoughts were racing - I didn't want to upset or anger her and she was quite clearly in a good mood, she relaxed into the seat and put her arm out the window... so I drove.
The music continued and as we approached the Osborne bridge she suddenly pipped up; "You were supposed to turn back there!"
Did she think she'd given my directions? I had been listening to her jibberishly singing to the music for nearly 10 minutes and she hadn't spoken a real word once.
"I'm sorry." I said - and maneuvered to turn around and head back over the bridge.
We finally turned where she had said I had missed, and I wound my way around the streets downtown until we were in front of what she stated was her building, and I stopped the car.
She got out. To this day I can't remember if she said thank-you or not. Does it matter?
I wasn't harmed, she was able to get where she needed to go and I truly hope she's safe and happy wherever she finds herself today.
Maybe that was enough. That was the help I could give to her - because, I can't help someone to abandon their addictions. I can't lift another person out of financial distress. I can't heal an emotional wound I never created... but I can drive and I can sit quietly.
I'm not the only one who has had these types of encounters with others - The cousins can each tell you their own stories and we've had similar encounters when we have been together.
I used to just think I attracted injured or crazy people, like it's my lot in life, but the older I get the more I understand that it's my privilege as a human being to be a witness and a listener to anyone who needs to feel a connection to another, either through a small kindness or just as a witness.
Our podcast will probably be filled with these stories of connections. I'm hoping it will inspire others to remember to be open and accepting to these connections.
Have you had an similar experience? Leave me a comment below.
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