Teachers
and Students
“In
time, and always just at the right moment, a teacher or maggid
arrives. He may manifest in many ways, as old Kabbalistic documents
indicate. One may not see him more than once, or realize one has
known him all his life. It can be one's grandfather or a fellow
student, the man crossing the sea with you on a boat, or someone you
thought a fool. He may arrive at your front door or already be in the
house.”
Z'evben
Shimon Halevi (The Way of Kabbalah)
I
was at the Bama Flea and Antique Mall Monday futzing around in my
booth when a man I'd never seen before came by and pawed through the
container of stuff I'd put aside to take to the thrift store. I told
him I'd give him a good deal on anything in there since I was getting
rid of it anyway. He pulled out a wooden toy wagon and we haggled a
bit over price. I, of course, thinking 'why haggle over two bucks,
buddy'. Then he launched into a monologue about life. He told me all
about his business and how difficult it had been to make it through
the economic downturn, about his wife and her retirement from a major
publishing company, about her loss of pension, and her compensatory
small booth at an antique mall in Pelham. He told me of his children
and what they were doing in their lives, and about folks he knew who
live in my neighborhood.
He
told me the story of his good friend who was driving in a car with
his best friend and his wife. While they were in the midst of a
conversation, the man died—sitting right there behind the wheel
with no warning whatsoever. It was, to say the least, a wake up call
for the man who told me the story. He said, “I knew right then that
at 71 years old, I couldn't take anything for granted again. I'd
better make peace with the way things are, with myself and my God. So
I have. I don't worry any more. I just give thanks for this minute.”
He
took the wooden toy, saying he was in the Alabama Woodworkers Guild
and that they make toys for kids at Children's Hospital. He would
take the toy wagon apart and use it to make a new toy for a sick child. He
gave me a beatific smile and departed.
You
never know when you'll meet a teacher. I guess the Bama Flea is as
good a place as any. They have a way of catching you when your guard
is down, when you're unprepared to question. They almost never have
on clerical robes, but are most often dressed in semi-tattered street
clothes. They seem to have checked their ego at the door or long
since shed it. They look into your eyes, speak directly to your
soul and hand you a little gem that you didn't realize you were
searching for. One that you'll remember for the rest of your life.
I've
learned that it's best to simply listen—and give thanks for this
minute.
In
the spirit,
Jane
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