Vitality
is fascinating. We resonate best with people evoking not only our
interest, but also our emotions. And when thought and feeling are
yoked, they enrich our lives profoundly, whether for just a brief
moment, or for a lifetime. Meeting Brandy was just that, a special
moment to treasure at 500 plus miles an hour, more than 4 miles up.
So was meeting Roger, down on the earth, homeless yet very much at
home, just the night before. Both were youngsters in their early
30's. Both were beautiful, handsome, articulate, educated and
motivated; and both gave us the gift of their time and their
intensity. Brandy then gave us a caring card. Roger gave us an
appreciative handshake. Yet boy, were they ever different as humans
on our planet.
Roger
was unkempt and dirty. He parked his old bike near my power-chair and
I studied his hand-built tow-cart. We were in front of the Royal Bank at the hub of Victoria's downtown with the pedestrians a thick swirl
all around us and the noise of the buses and the cars a frequent
growl and grind at the ears. He looked to be about 30-ish, with
distinctly overlong hair and an under-washed appearance. Yet he had
clear blue eyes. "Built it yourself?" I asked. "Did
too," he smiled, "all out of recycled parts." I looked
into him. "You managing to keep warm at night with that bed-roll
you've got?" I asked. "Any night of the year," he
reassured me. "I've got everything I need right on me. Never use
a bank. Keep my cash in my pocket. Work the jobs I can wherever and
whenever I can. Don't use social insurance. Owe nobody nothing. Have
no car, no rent, no mortgage, and no debts. I used to be a CPA. Ran a
business. Now, I'm a free man."
"Fascinating,"
I responded, and wheeled my power-chair closer to hear. I did not
tell him that back in my mid 20's, an escapee from Africa's military,
I too had lived off my wits when I'd bicycled up Britain, avoiding
Home Office authorities and deportation, intending to disappear into
a crofter's lifestyle under an assumed name on the Orkney Islands.
That was my story; this was his. And as my wife now came out of the
bank and joined us, he continued.
"Yup.
But on February 19th, mark my words, we'll have a new world order.
The poor will no longer be poor. Before then for three weeks the
banks will shut down to implement a new integrated economic system.
All the heads of state, all the genocidal maniacs and the
power-mongers and the biggest financial families will be jailed or
removed from office and all the people will find themselves no longer
suffering from overinflated foods and services prices. So also for
goods and taxes. So too for mortgages and rents. We will have an
entirely new system!"
And
so, with February 19th but three-minus months from now, we left Roger
to find his perch.
The
next morning, 5:30 a.m., we left our home to fly across the country,
east to Ottawa. And that first leg from Vancouver Island to Calgary
with WestJet was not so pleasant since the air hostesses were not
quite awake. But after the hour or so's wait at the switch-over, our
new plane for the four and a bit hours to visit our long-time friends
was altogether more pleasant. We also met a new young friend, Brandy.
An
air hostess, beautiful, unassuming, and for whatever reason
resonating with the two of us, she spent some time squatting down in
the aisle and chatting to us throughout the flight. It might have
been that we were in the back of the plane and so there was no one
else directly in her sight that made it easier for her to talk. It
might have been my fatherly age and her daughterly self that promoted
a connection, but the vitality between her and my psychologist wife,
between us too, was a living thing in that fuselage of hundreds of
people. It had a tempo of swapped stories that was vital and
endearing and motivating. Brandy, so very different from Roger, yet
also such a vibrant soul steering en route to her own glory.
Vitality, indeed, is invigorating for all.