Recognizing Divinity

One morning, I took shelter beneath an overhang while waiting for the traffic lights to change. A tall twenty-something kid with green hair and his whole life strapped to his back joined me to get out of the rain. Our eyes met.

“Hey,” he said, “how’s it going?”

“Fine,” I replied. “You?”

He made a face. “Not so good.” He began setting up shop, arranging his pack into a comfy lounge chair and pulling out a cardboard sign asking for change. “I just came from a job interview,” he went on, “but when I got there, she told me it was cancelled. Nice, eh?”

“Cancelled?” I echoed. “Not rescheduled?”

“Nope.” He sat down, clearly disgruntled, and sighed. “I got there early and she said it was cancelled. So much for that.”

I have little experience actually conversing with the sidewalk’s self-employed. This kid was clearly among them, and though I doubted he’d applied for a gig at City Hall, I was fairly sure he would have fit at the 7-Eleven, and whomever had set the interview should have honoured the appointment, especially if he indeed arrived ahead of time.

“That sucks,” I agreed. “What are you going to do now?”

He settled more comfortably into his makeshift La-Z-Boy. “I guess I’ll hang here for a while and listen to people telling me to get a job. I came out here to be with a friend, but maybe I’ll go back to Vancouver and try again there.”

“You might have better luck in a bigger city,” I said. “Victoria isn’t really a happening town.”

He gloomily concurred.

I asked if he wanted a coffee or something to ward against the chill weather. He politely refused, having had enough coffee to get a buzz going for the non-interview. “You’d think fifty people wishing you luck would have had some pull,” he said.

“I wish I’d known,” I told him. “Maybe the fifty-first would have been the difference.”

He looked briefly nonplussed, then laughed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The light had changed more than once by now, and my own job awaited. “I can’t do anything more for you,” I said, “but at least I can give you this.” I proffered a fiver. “It might help.”

He didn’t take it, and for a second I worried that I’d offended him. Instead, he looked up at me and asked the most astonishing question.

“Are you sure?”

He had nothing. I was on my way to the bank before returning to the office, and he asks if I’m sure about giving him a paltry five dollars? I was amazed, humbled, and a little embarrassed. But I persevered.

“Of course I’m sure. At the very least, it’ll get you to the ferry, if that’s what you want to do.”

He slowly took the bill from my hand and thanked me.

I tried to shrug it off. My heart would rob me blind if I allowed it. This was a genuinely good kid and they all deserve a break. Unable to give him one, I aimed for encouragement. “That interview didn’t work out but the next one probably will. Good luck, okay?”

He smiled. I bolted for the crosswalk before I burst into tears.

I haven’t seen him since then, but I remember him whenever I’m at that corner. I wonder where he is and if his fortunes have changed. I wonder what his name is. I regret that I didn’t think to ask.

I don’t, as a rule, donate to individuals. I once joked that if I dropped a coin into every hat on a downtown block, I’d be broke by the next intersection. I have no idea why this kid touched me, except that I actually took the time to talk to him.

Dr. Wayne Dyer said in a  lecture once that you don’t have to give money to someone on the street. You can always offer a silent blessing as you pass. So nowadays, if I can, if I’m feeling brave, I will meet someone’s eyes and offer a smile in lieu of coin.

Most of the time, I get a smile back. Maybe it’s not about the money after all. Maybe it’s about one human noticing another, and recognizing the divinity in each other.

We are all connected.

With love,