Generosity: The Spoken Word

after work today i ran some errands. i went off in search of birthday presents and did some light shopping on my way back home. blueberries for 2.99 a pint--unheard of when they're in season--two champagne mangoes, two white peaches, smoked salmon (2 half pints), and other items that will see me solidly through next week (I already have some tilapia filets, tofu, etc.) I really just need to pick up some fresh spinach, mixed greens, and grape tomatoes, and I'll be set.

In between the present search and the groceries I was stopped by a self-proclaimed spoken word artist who wanted to know if he could "anoint" me with his verse. It took me a few seconds to wipe the smirk off my face. He told me upfront that he accepts donations--whatever his listeners think best--for his work. I had only one bill in my wallet and I made up my mind that I would give it to him (it was either that or a piece of gum). He proceeded to read to me from a rumpled, handwritten notebook page. I closed my eyes just as I would have done at a poetry reading. I closed my eyes to keep from feeling foolish for standing there while this man, this stranger, sought legitimization from me, his audience of one. Once I decided to let myself receive his offering, I had to rid myself of judgment which meant ridding myself of self-consciousness. I sensed that this was a delicate moment, so I told him "I'm smiling because I'm a poet--I understand what you're talking about." Ridding myself of judgment meant Identifying myself with this person I was tempted to be annoyed by. I needed to align myself with him for this small moment because he picked me, for whatever reason (He literally called out to me--I hadn't crossed his path.), to hear him. So he began.

I won't critique the work; what he said wasn't the point. That is not meant to indicate that his poem wasn't good; It is not to say that it was.

I told him I appreciated it, that I was glad to have heard it. Then I withdrew my donation and extended it to him. He received it in the spirit with which I gave it. I saw him moving to kiss my cheek, so I proffered my face, and allowed the familiar gesture, in spite of my reservation.

I once read that acknowledgment may well be the first point of generosity, and while I think that point has tremendous merit, I think that openness precedes acknowledgment.

It's mostly impossible to recognize the gift element of an interaction while you're in it, but sometimes you can. I stopped because I was compelled to pay attention, because that poem (a celebration of femininity, incidentally) was appointed for me at that time and that place. If I was able to step beyond the confines of my own agenda, it wasn't purely for this man's benefit. I think I'm the one who took more away from it.