Yesterday, a hesitant person shared information with me. A story as old as time, of decades-old pain remembered differently by two people. As they were speaking, my head was screaming why are you telling me this?  Was it to ease their own pain and get some understanding, or to prevent me from hearing it from another source? Regardless, the knapsack was placed down and I have to decide how much to pull out and carry along with me. At the time, I sent a fervent prayer up for wisdom-wisdom to speak wisely about something I am not a party in and which is destined to bring pain-beyond that which has already occurred.

We are not others. Our soul is distinct and our journey is ours alone. However,  people join us for parts of our journey. They walk in step with us for a time, come and go perhaps, or even just flash by quickly, with a knowing smile and a quick wink. I believe we know each other in the beyond-but the ties are different there. 

In our animal bodies however, tribalism runs deep. Familial ties have meaning that perhaps they do not have in the afterlife. Tribalism run deep in me. I will defend my own. 

But the question is, what is my own? Is it humanity, my sex, motherhood, my birth family, my children. Is it teachers? Coffee drinkers, book readers?

This is a situation where either one person is lying or one person is remembering wrong. And you know what? I will never know. 

And so I gaze at the bundle and I wonder, how can I best mitigate this pain? I cannot turn my back on someone who hasn't hurt me, someone whose lonely life is destined to become lonelier, and yet, I do this with a sigh, knowing my values are being stretched, tested, perhaps. I do not have answers. Just this knot of sadness sitting there waiting for me to decide. So I reach into the bag and pull out a coat to carry. I will give warmth to this lonely person, I will provide a bit of shelter to a quieting life force. But my heart will always burn for the pain of another, and a light will shine for them there.