Seeing with an Open Heart

By Courage & Renewal staff Robin Gaphni

Posted July 1, 2012

Waking up in the morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment. And to look at all beings with the eyes of compassion.

-Thich Nhat Hanh

In May, the Center for Courage & Renewal moved its "headquarters" from the sleepy little town of Winslow located on Bainbridge Island, to downtown Seattle. Now instead of a ten-minute drive to work, my commute involves a 35-minute ferry ride and a 15-minute walk through the city.

As my fellow commuters and I descend upon Seattle from the ferry in the early morning, we are (for the most part) a group of workers single-mindedly heading towards our jobs. The thing that stands out most to me is that we are journeying somewhere with purpose and a destination in mind. But as I begin my walk to the office, I become very aware of those people on the street who are not moving. They are stationary and rooted to the sidewalk. Their faces stay with me all day.

Seattle has a pretty large homeless population and it seems to be growing by the day. Since I am now in the city a lot more than I've been the past 19 years, I am not able to ignore the people I see every morning, and I wonder about their stories for, as we know, we all have stories.

Every day, I see the man at the corner of 1st and Marion with the big "Smile" sign, and not only do I smile, but I want to know more about how he came to be where he is. I see the toothless, legless man in a wheelchair down by Pike Place Market and I wonder where he came from, and how he lost his legs. I see the pregnant woman with the haunting eyes and an outstretched hand, and I wonder what makes her heart sing. You see, I think by knowing people's stories, we have more compassion for them and less judgment of them.

Since I work for an organization that is so grounded in matters of the heart, my walks in the city are challenging me to bear "more gracefully the responsibilities that come with being human," as Parker wrote in Let Your Life Speak. How this manifests itself will vary from person to person, and probably from day to day. But for me, I am trying to make eye contact, to smile, to buy the homeless newspaper "Real Change" and most of all to acknowledge and see the people on the street. We want to be noticed for who we really are, and not for what we may appear to be. Stereotypes abound in our perceptions of homeless people, and yet each person has a unique story and deserves to be noticed. After all, isn't that what we all want at life's most basic level?

Note: Robin Gaphni has worked at the Center for Courage & Renewal since 1998 and currently serves as the Program Manager/Registrar. She also writes a blog called Grief & Gratitude.

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Comments (8)

Jul 02 2012 | Karen Molinari - Powerful story

Robin,
You are such a gifted writer and vividly portray the thoughts I have as I walk through Seattle. I hope it helps the people we see, just a little bit, to at least make eye contact with them and acknowledge them as fellow humans.

Thank you for your words.

Jul 02 2012 | Parker J. Palmer - Wonderful & Challenging!

It's wonderful to "hear" your voice in this blog, Robin! What you have to say is beautifully said, of course, and it challenges me. Yes, what everyone wants is to be "noticed for who we really are, and not for what we may appear to be." I should know that well, since that's my own yearning. My challenge is to give this kind of attention to others as fully as I want it for myself. Your post is going to help me meet that challenge. Thanks, friend! (And thanks, too, for all you have done for so many years to support and advance the Center's work. Bravo!)

Jul 03 2012 | Teri Waag - Open the eyes of our hearts!

Robin as you live your life wide open as you are, the world is hearing your song and I am challenged today. I hope many will be for years to come. Like a ripple in the pond gets bigger and bigger, so we share the love we have with others by letting the eyes of our hearts be opened and responding in the moment to each other from pure compassion.
THANK YOU ROBIN!

Jul 03 2012 | Erin Lane - Rooted

I concur with others' comments that Robin's words are spot-on, skillful and simple and sharp. I love the image between the untethered commuters and the rooted dwellers. Knowing people's stories requires us to be rooted in much the same way, listening longer than our patience allows at times. This post is a reminder that if I want to know and be known and offer the same to others, it is worth my while to show up in the same places time and again until we notice each other.

Jul 04 2012 | Sharon Strauss - simple truthful expression

I really related to this post, and I appreciate your observations
and warm regard for the folks who may not have homes to
retreat to where they can restore themselves. I take to
heart your wise words Robin and truly enjoy reading
your posts. Thank you dear heart.

Jul 04 2012 | Rick Jackson - Good suggestions for the 4th—and every day...

Robin, you've long been one of my leading teachers about traveling through life with eyes and heart wide open. As a colleague who occasionally has the privilege of taking the ferry and walking with you to or from the office, I marvel at the "aliveness" I feel in your hospitable presence—and I know I'm not alone. Your delight in life is infectious. And your capacities to be present with other's joys and pain is instructive.

Living as we do in a time of harshness in our nation's politics, it strikes me that your post quietly invites us to take small steps each and every day to see one another with deeper regard and compassion.

Maybe that's the deeper way in which we can celebrate the 4th of July as "Interdependence Day!"

Jul 11 2012 | Karen Gerstenberger - Thank you, Robin

What a thoughtful and compassionate point of view you have shared with us, Robin. I, too, am moved by the homeless people I see in Seattle, but am often timid nowadays about making eye contact with strangers. A few years ago, when taking the children to the city, we used to bring granola bars or small boxes of cereal to hand to the people who were asking for help on the street, and that felt much better than just walking by, but we stopped doing it when we stopped going to the city so often. Thank you for reminding me of this.

Aug 26 2012 | Pat Thompson - A poem

Thank you , Robin, for your post. Your astute observations have prompted the memory of a poem by a doctor named Rafael Campo who lives in Boston. It's called Begging for Change in Winter. Do you know it? If not, here it is:

This season always makes me wish for peace,
Or dream of it at least, as I ignore
The signs of its receding from the world:
The headlines’ promise of another war,

Or dream of it at least, as I ignore
An unkempt man who begs for change, who keeps
The headlines’ promise of another war.
The rich against the poor, it’s me against

This unkempt man who begs for change, who keeps
Reminding me of my humanity.
The rich against the poor–it’s me against
The forces of injustice, all alone.

Reminding me of my humanity,
My coffee burns my tongue. It hurts to drink
In bed last night, I dreamed this happy dream:

My coffee burned my tongue, it hurt to drink
Because I’d nearly died from thirst and then
In bed–O last of nights!–I dreamed. This dream
Was like my dream of peace, except peace won

Because there was no death, no thirst. And then
The world was pure again, receiving gifts
And giving them. I toss the man my change.
This season always makes me question peace.