This morning, at the foot of a high office tower on Wilshire Blvd, I saw a man shining shoes while sitting on the back bumper of his car – next to his open trunk.  His tools were at the ready.  I could see how earnestly he polished the leather, the muscle he was putting into it.  He wore a hat and his beard was peppered with grey.  The shoes on his feet were worn.

It’s halting to come upon something like that – just a moment – but one that says so much.  We all experience moments of feeling like we need to do small, menial things in order to survive.  I don’t think there is anyone who escapes such things entirely – but there is certainly a vast continuum – and we, in North America, have it easier than most people in the world.

Still,  I was talking with friends the other night and we all agreed that the “overhead” that one needs to generate, in order to survive in this civilized world, is hard sometimes.

That said, the past week was filled with such preoccupations for me.  I worked on my taxes, hunkered down into my teaching practice, and powered my way through.  It felt like a grueling week – but then, this morning, I came across the man shining shoes from his trunk.

There was another thing touched me so much this past week.  At the end of my final two lessons on Friday, my students presented me with a beautiful loaf of homemade bread.  Such kindnesses mean so much.