Waking up and smelling the roses

It's all been a bit me me me recently. Maybe this is a side effect of having a week off to Get Things Done (not an entirely successful strategy, as each thing which gets done seems to generate ten more which need doing).

I have in fact been thinking about stuff a fair amount, but not in a particularly focused way. I find things circle round inside my brain for a while until I find a peg to hang them on.

This afternoon one appeared... I was wandering down Cowley Road, mainly wondering where to purchase mushrooms and clip frames as economically and efficiently as possible, but also marvelling at the manifestations of spring: volunteers clearing weeds in the churchyard, people climbing out of windows to drink on their rooftops, vans reversing down pavements with more verve than usual, police on bikes in high-vis polo shirts moving people along in a friendly fashion. The sun was shining right in everyone's eyes, and it was just the right side of chaos.

There was a Chinese man standing outside Boots. I thought he was a Big Issue seller. When was the last time you saw a Chinese Big Issue seller, I was thinking as I slowed down to buy one. "They are killing innocent people for organ harvesting," he said, and handed me a copy of the Epoch Times.

I put it in my bag and walked on. Twenty minutes later I walked back carrying clip frames and mushrooms, and he was still there, looking aware of his own insignificance, trying to give out his papers as the denizens of East Oxford hurried past with more important things on their minds.

My heart suddenly went out to him. Yes, I believe they *are* killing innocent people for organ harvesting. I pictured a tall black man standing next to him trying to give out a paper about the genocide in Darfur. Nobody would much bother about that either. We are all too busy living in our overloaded bubbles, and if we do stop to think about organ harvesting and genocide we become overwhelmed with a sense of our own impotence. So we don't much think about it.

I stood there on the street thinking, 'does this make me complicit in organ harvesting and genocide? And if it does is there anything meaningful I can do about it?'

I crossed over the road towards him, because I wanted to say something. But I had no idea what to say, so I didn't say anything. I did read the Epoch Times all the way through when I got home, if that counts for anything.

joella