“Joy for human beings lies in proper human work. And proper human work consists of acts of kindness to other human beings, disdain for the stirrings of the senses, identifying trustworthy impressions, and contemplating the natural order and all that happens in keeping with it.” Marcus Aurelius Meditations, 8.26
Can I be a good person right here, right now?
I try my best not to sweat the small stuff, identifying that which is meaningless and being kind in the face of social uncertainty. It is not my strongest suite. I was raised in a male culture that regards civic kindness as gratuitous and suspicious.
When I first moved to Denver, Colorado, I stopped in a gas station somewhere on the periphery of downtown. Back in the day, there were pay phones inside most gas stations. On a chair, right under the pay phone that was installed on the wall by the checkout counter, sat this ancient looking cowboy. While the clerk was ringing up my bill for the fuel and some convenience items, this old, weathered man wearing a worn and dirty western hat and scuffed boots, said, “Howdy!” It startled me. I nodded at him and kind of went “harrumph,” clearing my throat, and making sure not to engage him in conversation. Life is transactional. Never talk to a stranger who is unsolicitously kind to you. My first instinct was to think, “What does this old geezer want from me?”
It never occurred to me that it was just a simple act of kindness on his part, an act of civility. Long after I left the store and was on my way it occurred to me that the old man was probably a fixture at that business. A kind soul who hung out there, sitting on his chair, making small talk, venturing friendly exchanges about the weather and such. I was the dangerous one. The closed one. The unreachable one.
I try to resist that urge to close myself off as I get older. What’s the worst that can happen? Someone will ask themselves, like I did when reacting to the greeting from that old Denver cowboy, “What’s that old geezer want from me?“
