I know a woman and her husband who have encouraged me to stop and really pay attention, even when I would rather not.

Before I forget, I thought of a word I like better than “forgive.”  It is “pardon.”  Maybe we can talk about that more down the road.

I recently did a kind of weird random act of kindness.  I had dinner with a friend in one of the cooler parts of downtown where we had mussels in a spicy sauce with plenty of beer of the Belgium variety, and lets not forget lots of bread to soak up the last drops of the sauce.  Bread: I am a fan. Bread, bread, bread,…  We split the check and my friend paid their half in cash, which I took and paid the whole with a credit card because I wanted to have some cash. We have had some intense, dangerous weather during the last 6 weeks or so with repeated series of nights when the temps plummeted well below zero when you factored in the windchill.  This was one of those nights; dangerously cold, and the night was still young. My friend and I, bundle against the wind, waved awkwardly goodbye from beneath our protective layers, and waddle off in our own directions like Michelin Tire Men.  As I approached the Metro, there was a man, inadequately Michelin-ed against the cold and wind, selling the Street News (newspapers some organization gives them to sell, which I am sure has some logic I have never bothered to truly think through).  I gave him a couple dollars, said “stay warm” in a serious but compassionate voice, and got on the escalator.

As I rode those magically moving stairs down, I thought about what had just happened (because that is part of the point of RAK, right?), and paid attention to how I was feeling.  How I was feeling was stupid, hopeless, and was freezing my ass off. I am totally Michelin-ed up and the wind is taking bites out of me…nom…nom…nom… “Stay warm?” Are you fucking kidding me? Could I have been more disconnected from that actual interaction?  “Hey, there, good buddy, I feel ya. Sure is nippy tonight, huh? Here’s a couple bucks that are sure to change your night from one of facing possible death from hypothermia to one of blissful warmth. Oh, and can you sign this receipt so I can write this off on my taxes?”  Damn it.

Stupid, and freezing, and hopeless.  Despite being a Brooding Swede, I am generally quite a hopeful person….which may surprise you given all my existential angst as we navigate a year of random acts of kindness.  Lately my world has been feeling a bit shaky and a bit more fragile than usual, which has probably affected my general Pollyanna-like nature (Yes, I know that existential angst and Pollyanna-like nature are a strange mix, but I believe we have established that I am complicated, glorious complicated at that).  I am sure the hole that Elly, and her completely accepting dog-ness love, has left behind is contributing to that sense of shaky but I have drifted from our story….

Hopeless.  Random acts of kindness is not about changing the world.  Its about making genuine connections with people, being in the moment, the genuine, heartfelt gesture.  My interaction did not do these things.  It was forced and artificial because I felt hopeless, hopeless to make any difference in the world as it seemed especially filled with hate, violence, intolerance, indifference, loneliness, isolation…. How could any act matter?  What could I ever do?  Why even bother to try? It only hurt and highlighted how little it could ever matter. I had forgotten what the point was.

By the time I reached the bottom of the escalator, I understood what had just happened.  I turned around and got back on the up escalator.  And not just because I like to ride escalators, which I kind of do.  I reached the top and swallowed my embarrassment, and approached the man from a more humble place.  I said hi and we talked about how cold it was.  He was initially suspicious but warmed to our conversation (Pun intended. I am hilarious). I gave him $60, all the money from dinner.  I said that I hoped it would help him get out of the cold sooner.  He said, oh yes, it would.

Of course, I have no way of knowing what he did with the money.  Maybe he got out of the cold, bought food.  Maybe he bought drugs, or alcohol, or dancing girls, or Kanye West CDs.  Of course, I hope my “kindness” made a small but positive difference, but I can’t assume it ever does. That doesn’t matter.  Ultimately, that wasn’t the point. At least in that moment, he knew another person was seeing him as a person. That was the point.

As you know, although I am “nice,” I am no saint and there is no way for me to feasibly to do this except on the most rare of occasions. I also openly acknowledge that a huge driving force of my doing this was because of my own sense of hopelessness & helplessness, and wanting to do something that eased that feeling in me.  I wish I could claim that this was some sort of exceptional RAK, but I don’t think it was.  I scored myself for full credit, but know it did not qualify for bonus points. It doesn’t qualify for bonus points because it is not about the size of the act, it is about the quality, the genuineness.  The quality definitely improved on round 2, but that Hopeless is what pushed me back up to the street level.

I have been paying attention to that Hopeless, who always seems to be loitering about lately, smoking cigarettes, drinking cheap liquor.  I probably should blame my stupid dog for dying, but I suspect there is something important to be learned.  I am trying to listen.  I haven’t heard yet what story it needs to tell.  I hope it is a story with a happy ending, but I am ready to listen where it takes us.