Touching Green: Week Two

When I teach Cultural Competency, one of the concepts the students pick up rather quickly, is that if they come to a concept that has never bothered them, that they have never noticed a problem, they should pay attention. This is the moment of awakening, that glimpse or nudge that says, “Hey! Maybe I haven’t noticed because I am a part of the privileged class, or part of the mainstream majority. Maybe I don’t have to notice what others notice all of the time.” And with that thought, let their eyes open.

I began riding the city bus this week. The weather changed dramatically, shifting from a global warming summer that rolled right into autumn, which overnight became frosty and crystallized. The leaves on the maple trees became brilliant with oranges and crimsons, blending brightly with the greens which still stand majestically among them.

It is more than my brain can manage. The lifestyle changes have been consuming me. The change in temperature and leaf color simply compounds-no, confirms-everything. It is enough to give up a car. But to be forced to take on a different life; who would have known would have such complications?

To move from any one place to another takes time, a resource I am used to having in abundance. In actuality, I have never had to pay attention to time on a minute by minute basis before. I paid attention to hours. That was more than enough. And if I was late, so what? I would be late in minutes.

The bus takes me 25 minutes, and there is no parking, which is nice. That is only 5 minutes longer than driving. And if I include not having to find parking or the walking from my car to my office, I am probably getting in a little quicker than when I drive. Also, the drive in is much calmer. I do not think I have taken the time (there’s that word again) to consider how stressful driving can be for me. I haven’t ever thought of it as stressful. I have thought of it as freeing. Yet, I can close my eyes while the driver does the work, and meditating is relatively easy. I have even read a couple of days, either going in or coming home.

However, the downsides all seem to blur into a sinkhole of t-i-m-e. The bus only runs once an hour, so I must time everything now, and not simply go when I want to go. Because the bus begins running at 6 AM, and I am to be to work at 5:30, I am consistently getting to work an hour late. On the days this is unacceptable, I will have to ride my bike. When I think of this, I close my mind and don’t allow myself to become caught in the anxious swirl of dreaded snow and bicycles. I will figure that out some time after this week. This week I need to learn how to manage this week.

I am also learning there is more to transportation than just getting to and from work. All of the errands I am used to running. Or meetings I am used to attending-3 or 4 a week! To go to the bank for cash (for the bus) I have to get off the bus. To pick up bread or milk-off the bus. Worse if I need something like a monthly bus pass—which is off my normal bus route, sop I have to get off and then walk. Once I get off the bus, for anything, no matter how quickly, I must wait another hour to get back on. It no longer how much time it takes me to complete an errand; instead, it seems to matter that I have an errand. I find I am trying to avoid them. It’s not working.
As I stood waiting outside of the bus stop that has both a bank and a grocery store, I counted the cars that went by. My potatoes had broken free from their bag, and they kept rolling into the street and along the curb. In order to hold them in place, I had to put the bag handles in my fists and keep my foot firmly on the potato bag hole.

Sixteen cars went by with two or more people inside them. Seventy seven went by that had only one driver. I realized I was feeling a bit smug, like I was better than them. Then I remembered that only a week ago I was one of them. One small week of choice ago, I was them. Is a week long enough to move from us to them? And if I do this by choice, have I really moved, or have I simply indulged my resentments as I stand there with four bags of groceries and ten pounds of potatoes?

Suddenly, I had a thought…“Hey! Maybe I haven’t noticed because I am a part of the privileged class, or part of the mainstream majority. Maybe I don’t have to notice what others notice all of the time.” And with that thought, I felt my eyes open.