Photo credit: Trimmer

 

Yesterday, I went to a popular grocery store in West Los Angeles.  The isles were packed with people.  Every step presented a new obstacle.  There was the man on a cell phone chatting away oblivious to the world around him.  A wizened woman in a business suit practically hockey checked me to get in front of my cart.  Two children flanking their mother held me captive in a corner.

I have always likened shopping in LA to driving in LA.  It’s hectic, but when shopping, people usually sense discomfort in others.  After a run-in, eyes meet and a gesture conveying hey I’m sorry follows.  Not yesterday.

I’m slow to anger and I’ve lived enough big stuff to fly above the small stuff, but I have a real problem with rudeness.  Say anything you like, but say it civilly and be considerate, always.

Two very large women began chatting in the center of the narrow isle I was coming down, I knew that as the gap between my cart and them narrowed, they’d let me through.  They didn’t.  I stood there, with the nose of my cart inches from them, and they ignored me. “Excuse me,” I said, “Please let me by.”  As though I’d asked them to give me a piggy back ride to the border, they took turns glaring at me and slowly, like molasses, cleared the isle. I felt my frustration warm to a low angry ache. 

Now, you know I’m fairly versed in human nature and I know how to talk someone down from most any destructive behavior right? 

I started working on myself.  I reminded myself that everyone I’d encountered was entrenched in their own lives, and if I knew what they were experiencing I’d likely want to wrap my arms around them, and that nothing in that moment would matter in an hour, and that I couldn’t take any of it personally, everyone sees through the lens of their beliefs and experiences.

I turned a tight corner and ended up right behind a man with a wailing baby squeezed against his hip, while talking on a phone, holding a bottle of wine and pushing a cart with his pelvis.  His wife stood nearby, shrieking orders into another phone at someone unfortunate enough to have to listen.  She was dressed from nose to toes in Gucci, Chanel, Versace, D&G and Hermes, not all that uncommon here, and she seemed completely unaware of the baby.  I couldn’t get around them and they couldn’t have cared any less.

In that moment, after all I’d been through and in my state of fragile recovery, I snapped inside.   I wanted to do all of the things I abhor.  I wanted to drive my car over their phones, pour the wine all over the wife, punch the husband and rescue the baby.  Yeah, definitely not my best moment.

I knew I needed to call out the big guns.  Every miracle that has ever occurred in my life followed a path of chaos, resistance, attempted control, surrender, love then illogical, irrational and wondrous resolution.

What I work on most these days is going straight to surrender and love, bypassing the pain of the other states.

There in the grocery store, I surrendered to it all.  I let go.  Fires don’t burn without fuel. 

Then I called on LOVE.  I asked it to take me over, to let me be it.  I asked for the highest good for every single person in the store and thanked it for always being there.

The behaviors of people in the store didn’t change, but I did.  I remembered who they were, who we all are, beneath the masks.  We’re of the same source, inextricably bound in oneness. 

We’re kids playing cops and robbers in our creator’s backyard.  At the end of the day, we go home to the same house. 

Only LOVE endures.

I continued to encounter people behaving in ways I’d rather they didn’t, but I took their behavior as a call for love.  Silently, I sent them tons.  I left the store relaxed, happy and wrapped in the warmth of love.

I’ll be proud of myself when I start there.

~ Cynthia

 

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