Three Truly Perfect Strangers- by Miles Beauchamp
Over the years I’ve met more people who have been kind to me than I can begin to count and so many of them were strangers. Perhaps we notice it more when a stranger is kind simply because we don’t know them, we don’t expect anything from them, they don’t have any of our expectations to meet. And perhaps that is why a kindness from those individuals means so very much.
I want to tell you about three individuals who did kind things to me at times when I needed it the most. What makes it even more special is that when they were doing these things they didn’t realize they were doing them or realize that I would carry around the awe from that kindness for years.
The first person is Sally Farris. You see, about twenty-five years ago I had a stroke. I was in the hospital for over three months learning all sorts of things – like how to walk and talk and generally be aware. After leaving the hospital I stayed at my parents for a number of months and then through the advice of a therapist at Scripps, enrolled at Grossmont College through Disabled Student Services. The first instructor I took a class from there – a literature class – was Sally Farris.
Now at the time I entered that class, I was just about as nervous as a human being can be. I hadn’t been on a campus in years, was generally older than most students, and well, had that stroke thing. Yep, I was scared to death. One wrong word from her, one instance of impatience, and I would have walked out forever. That didn’t happen – she recognized what I was doing, what I was trying to do, and helped me every step of the way. She didn’t have to; I was a stranger – just another out-of-his-element student, but help she did. And her kindness didn’t only help me, it’s also helped every student I’ve subsequently taught – I learned from her example what it means to enable a student to learn. Sally passed away almost twenty years ago when she was in her late thirties. But not a week goes by that I don’t think of her and the lessons she taught by doing.
The other two individuals are certainly not strangers now, but they were when their kindness was shown. One of them is Ryan – my son. We adopted him when he was three and on the day of our first meeting – once again when anxiety is ratcheted up as high as it can go, when I was pondering what to do and if I could ever be good enough to do it, Ryan came over and hugged me. Now let’s face it – I am a kind of shy, stand-offish guy but he did exactly what I needed to have done at the instant I needed it. We’ve never looked back.
And finally, there is his sister Paige. When she and I met we were strangers. Oh sure, I had been feeling her kick for nine months, but we had never laid eyes on each other. And then one morning at Scripps Memorial she was born. The physician who helped Michelle in giving birth to her held Paige up for me to see and at that moment Paige opened her eyes for the very first time. I looked into those new eyes and saw a universe, saw time stretching out ahead and behind and was once again, for an instant, at peace.
One teacher being a teacher in the best sense of the word, one boy willing to take a risk on a new guy who walked into the room and one little infant girl who opened her eyes on the world and by doing so gave insight to her new father. All three were strangers, initially, and were never strangers again. All three changed my life because of kindness or by their simple existence. And very often that is simply enough.
Miles Beauchamp
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Kindness of Strangers- Pilar Placone-Willey
Sometime around 1993 I was having lunch with a friend at a favorite restaurant in Hillcrest. I had kept a watchful eye on the clock as to get as much time with my friend without letting my parking meter run out of time. If you have ever had an opportunity to meet anyone of the highly ambitious meter officers in Hillcrest, you will understand my anxiety. Having lived or worked in this area for over 16 years I feel just in saying, these meter officers are ruthless.
My time was up. I had exactly 3 minutes to pay my bill, hug my friend goodbye, and briskly walk a short block back to my car. As I turned the corner toward my car horror struck and my legs went into an automatic sprint. A meter officer, her shoulders as broad as her legs were long, had parked her cart next to my car and stepped out with her thick ticket pad in hand. I yelled “I’m here, I’m here!” Without flinching to the sound of my approaching voice, this unbending meter monitor began jotting down my license plate number. I ran more desperately, “I’m here! I’m here!” restraining myself from calling her a nasty name.
Just then a miracle happened. Coming out from a nearby shop a women with long frizzy brown hair stepped in front of my meter and fed it a quarter. In a flash my meter went from the red zone to green. I was safe. I had more time. The officer gave a heated protest. “You can’t do that!” Her face was red. But the stranger and I stood there with a fantastic sense of satisfaction; we had beat the system. The officer gave up with a huff and set off to look for some other victim of poor timing. I turned to the women, thanked her profusely and tried to pay her back. She refused, saying “I see this all the time, I am happy to save you from a ticket.” I left touched. Her kind act, from my mistake, saved me from a ticket.
My favorite movie is “Pay it Forward.” It is a story of what a 7th grade boy, Trevor, does with a class assignment given by his social studies teacher. The assignment was for each student is to come up with an idea that will make a positive change in the world. Trevor comes up with a plan to do good deeds for three people who then, by way of payment, each must do good deeds for three other people. These nine people also must pay it forward and so on. Trevor believes if his plan is successful, the resulting effects should positively change the entire world.
While reading an interview in the Union-Tribune given by one of the widow’s whose spouse was killed in a horrifying school shooting at San Diego State over a decade ago, I was taught a motto I live by everyday. The widow was sharing about her husband life; his partnership with her, his parenting and hobbies, but also, she quoted his life motto: Always leave a place better than when you arrive. I cut this quote out and taped it to my computer monitor.
These three examples of strangers living consciously and with kindness have slowly transformed my heart and mind. I come from a loving, but highly judgmental family, critical of everyone but themselves. Whether I liked it or not my cognitive imprints were inevitable. In my adult years I became aware of my mental and emotional sufferings as well as my families. I wanted more, I wanted happiness. I craved peace.
My efforts toward self-transformation started, of course, with some therapy. I later graduated to readings and practices of different sages, saints, and gurus. I became a student of Transpersonal Psychology and read work by Ken Wilber, Stanislov Grof and Frances Vaughn. I explored and tried out different forms of spiritual practices. Like meditation, some yoga. However, practicing acts of kindnesses to strangers, paying it forward, always trying to leave a place better than I arrived has been the most challenging but also the most transforming. To always leave a place better than I arrived, is my spiritual practice.
Integrity to this spiritual practice is not always convenient or comfortable. It is what I still do when no one is looking.
My daily spiritual practice is shifting my energy when I am in a fowl mood so that I do not contaminate someone else’s space. It is driving politely and forgiving other drivers. It is walking my shopping cart back to the proper locations no matter how far I have to walk or how big a rush I think I am in. It means cleaning up the counter at Starbucks when the mess isn’t even mine. And, I have walked by numerous parking meters that are running low on time and have dropped in some change.
I thought this was going to be a difficult topic for me to speak on, but it turned out that all I had to do was examine my daily choices and how I was influenced to live a certain way by thoughtful people. They are all around us, and I believe as Trevor, the 7th grader believed, acts of kindness to strangers can positvely change in our entire world.
Pilar Placone-Willey
