I visited the Southern California Public Radio station, thanks to a nice guy named Sanden. He worked for MPR, and called me while I was in MN packing. It turns out we were both moving to CA around the same time. He was transferring to SCPR. I asked him about jobs, and he told me to send him an email when I get settled and he’d give me a tour. I followed through on his offer.

He introduced me to several people. All very nice. From there, I visited the Theosophical Society Library. For many years my dad has been doing correspondence courses with them, and suggested I visit. I had a nice talk with a woman named Ina.

I left there to find Whole Foods to buy the $6 gluten free bread I’ve been missing. On my way home, a car behind me started honking. I ignored it. They kept honking. This car holding two young men pulled up along side of me, windows down, the passenger laughing while the driver shouted expletives at me- “You fucking bitch. You fucking ho,” and giving me the finger. I smiled and waved, even blew a kiss. I figure this was better than the alternative. In the moment, I was okay- how else would I be able to act as a queen? But when they turned down another street and I turned down mine toward our house, I felt a bit sick.

I felt sad for women, feeling the underlying contempt for women. I felt personally violated. I felt embarrassed. These two young men didn’t like me and I didn’t know why. I also had a series of contemplative thoughts- these men don’t know me. They don’t know my heart. My soul. My life. My dreams. My needs. My struggles. What I did today. How I was just singing along with Madonna about Hollywood, wind going through my hair- feeling pretty damn special to be in such an awesome state with mountains and sunsets that take your breath away. They didn’t know anything about me, yet I was a ho, a bitch and a fucking one at that. If they did know me, would their opinion change? Does it matter?

It took me a few minutes after returning home to shake the energy of their contempt out of my aura, but it left me with a lesson. I had a fairly good day. Yes, I was frightened to leave home to go into the “jungle” that has been described of Los Angeles. But I left anyway. I met nice people. I had good conversations. Who knows, I may even have made longer term connections. All this making me feel pretty good on my way home.

And then I took the exit to my little yellow house, and two young men chose to flip me off and call me names. Normally, I would have allowed them to ruin my day. To question my going out, and maybe to second guess my recent discipline of loving what is. But it was just an incident. I don’t have to tell myself a story about it. I don’t have to make it change my ways. It is life. there is suffering, and some chose to call women fucking hoes in order to deal. Others choose to go out and live their life the best they can by meeting people and listening to Madonna.

Plato said, Be Kind. For everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

We may not know all the details of a person’s life. But we can know and understand who we are. This option is always open to us. When we open up and WANT to know who we are, we will begin to know. From this knowing we will understand we are more than the shit we toss at people, and ourselves. We will know people who toss shit at us are more than what they show in that moment. We will understand experiences don’t define us, they stretch us. We will understand we all struggle. We will understand to forgive. We will understand we all have pain. We will begin to know compassion. This is when the world begins to change for the better. But we have to want to know who we are. We have to be interested, even if no one else seems to be.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter