My worthlessness
I was in Detroit yesterday for a concert at Chene Park. It would've been a great night, had it not been for something that happened (I'll get into that in a moment). The location by the Detroit River provided an incredible ambiance. The weather was just right. It was the perfect formula for a great event.
As I waited in line for the ticket collector, I took a look around at all the faces that had gathered. Though I admit that some of the ladies were bangin' that night, there wasn't really anybody in attendance who captured my attention.
Except for one person.
No more than twenty yards from me was an old man in a wheelchair. This man was obviously homeless; evidenced by his dirty and tattered appearance. Clearly, he hadn't showered or had a change of clean clothes in a while. I noticed that the man was unusually dirty; almost as if he had a mud bath just that morning. He was about as dirty as anybody I'd ever seen. But oddly, even that wasn't the real attention-getter. Above all else, what jumped out at me were his eyes. They were a deep hazel green; very similar to mine. It's not very often that I see blacks with hazel eyes that aren't store-bought. So when I do, it jumps out at me. Most of the other people around me oppositely were completely oblivious to this man; most likely ignoring him on purpose. But while he passed through, I could not take my eyes off him. Though I've been taught that it's impolite to stare, I stared. I stared hard. I watched him closely as he made his way through the traffic. He didn't stop to beg for anything. He didn't talk to anyone. He was just as oblivious to the crowd as they were to him. But I noticed him.
For the moment, I was frozen dead in my tracks. Interestingly, I didn't feel sorrow for the man. I wasn't bitter at the system that allowed for this man to wheel himself through poverty. Nor was I particularly filled with the Spirit at this point. Truthfully, I didn't feel anything at that particular moment. I just stood there watching this man motionlessly. I can't exactly explain it.
Well, that's it. That's all that happened. I guess this whole thing would've been far more profound if I did something noteworthy for him; offered him assistance, had a great conversation with him, etc. But I didn't. I just stood there watching him -- while people in line behind me were motioning for me to keep moving.
Once I snapped out of my trance, all that was left from the experience was an old man who left me feeling miserable and worthless. Usually it takes an exceptional person or thing to humble me to the point of absolute meekness, humility and reticence; like when Malik is off somewhere being righteous or when my big sister is doing something amazing. But on this occassion, it wasn't a person's high distinction that humbled me. It was a person who was drudging deep in bowel recesses of poverty, dispair, and social worthlessness that caused me to feel pathetically self-consious. Suddenly, the Kenneth Cole jacket I was rockin' wasn't as fashionable as I once thought. The floor-level seats we had didn't seem as valuable. Any success I've obtained over the years didn't seem important.
Just to clear up any confusion: I am by no means implying that being successful and enjoying the good things in life is wrong. It's just that I was amazed at how much my outlook can be affected in different situations; particularly in this case, when I'm confronted by man with no social value whatsoever. In essence, this impoverished man made me feel...well...worthless.
- ACL