Indivisible

That strange woman at the Indivisible meeting Monday. Okay there were a lot of us strange women there, but you know the one I mean. She sat and stretched at the front in the swivel chair, and shouted Ninety Thousand Dollars! when she heard one of the speakers say it.

I didn’t recognize her until after the meeting when I saw her sitting on the sidewalk and went over to …. to what? to not walk by and ignore her, that’s mostly what. She’s Brenda. Last time we spoke she was sitting on the curb outside Millies, surrounded by stuff, and there was the matter of a coconut creme pie farther down the street that she might go retrieve later. Tonight her story was that she was on her way from the police because her husband was murdered and she had to identify the body. When did this happen? Yesterday.

See you, I say, walking towards my car. I love you, she calls. I love you, too, I say.

Indivisible.

I’m thinking of proposing an all volunteer group where everybody who belongs gets a button to wear like this. (first draft, button and proposal)

You wear the button when you have (a) a real amount of time to listen to anyone who comes up to you and asks about the button — or eventually recognizes it and knows you are someone to talk to, and (b) you are carrying an up to date list of community resources — food banks, shelters, detox, etc. — and can offer that information if needed. We’ll get some training in non-anxious listening, to start with.

It’s more a matter of connection than help-for-the-needy. You wear the button when you’re ‘in fit spiritual condition’ as they say, to connect with another being and see where it goes.

Love is Love, no matter the I and You.

Indivisible.