My Walk to Buddha
Last night, I was walking down to a pub nearby called 'the Buddha', a quaint, quiet place where they play live jazz on sundays - a relief from the noisy, manic bars teaming with students, wanting to get a drink and possibly someone to go home with, when I saw a man walking towards me.
Instant panic went into overdrive, as I said to myself, "I should really cross over to the other side of the road"..but I continued walking, wary and suspicious, ready to lash out in case something happened. "Prepared" for everything, thinking I was not going to let fear get the better of me.
And when he passed me by with what seemed like the sweetest smile that almost resembled my grandfather's, I felt so ashamed.
He looked like someone who had a little but wonderful life, a beautiful wife, and children he was proud of.
As our eyes met, he gave me a little nod, the corner of his middle aged eyes creased as his mouth stretched into a hint of a smile, and he walked on, probably eager to get home to a warm meal and his kids, after a long hard day of work.
I walked on, feeling very ashamed and terribly guilty. This man's eyes got stuck in my head, as deeply embedded in my memory, as that of the man that night. These eyes were as friendly and gentle, as the other man's were, diluted and bloodshot. I got into the pub, had a drink and forgot all about it. Until now.
What is wrong with me. I, the queen of naivete, mistook innocence for savagery.
This has got to stop.
Instant panic went into overdrive, as I said to myself, "I should really cross over to the other side of the road"..but I continued walking, wary and suspicious, ready to lash out in case something happened. "Prepared" for everything, thinking I was not going to let fear get the better of me.
And when he passed me by with what seemed like the sweetest smile that almost resembled my grandfather's, I felt so ashamed.
He looked like someone who had a little but wonderful life, a beautiful wife, and children he was proud of.
As our eyes met, he gave me a little nod, the corner of his middle aged eyes creased as his mouth stretched into a hint of a smile, and he walked on, probably eager to get home to a warm meal and his kids, after a long hard day of work.
I walked on, feeling very ashamed and terribly guilty. This man's eyes got stuck in my head, as deeply embedded in my memory, as that of the man that night. These eyes were as friendly and gentle, as the other man's were, diluted and bloodshot. I got into the pub, had a drink and forgot all about it. Until now.
What is wrong with me. I, the queen of naivete, mistook innocence for savagery.
This has got to stop.
posted by Sylvan Goddess at 11:40 PM
4 Comments:
I'd rather be wrong than worse.
tis a shame that such a statement could be true
Yea, its true...but yea, its a shame.
Better paranoid than sorry. That's what I feel. And time will ease that paranoia into a less stressful altertness. It's just sad that world we live in makes us feel this way.
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