On just another December afternoon in New York City, my life changed forever.
It was a normal commute home from Target with my boyfriend. I felt something in the air that day. Sometimes the earth decides to open and speak to me, this day was my time to listen.
The train came to a stop at our destination but when the doors opened; I didn’t see the normal grungy tile of the subway station. Someone else was staring into my eyes. There was one differing quality of our gazes: I was looking at him, but he wasn’t looking back. His body was pinned between the train and the platform.
This man had already left the world the first time I saw him, yet I felt in my heart that I knew who was laying on the ground. The train had crushed his body between the platform and train car, taking his soul to places unknown.
I stood in shock for a moment gazing at his lifeless body with all the love I could muster. In him I witnessed the universe. I saw my mother. I saw my father. I saw my brothers. I saw my sisters. I saw all previous generations. I saw all future generations. I saw a man that had once loved, and had once again returned to that love.
As I stood there softly gazing, I noticed how peaceful his expression was. His body remained there in front of us, yet the man he once was, was free. I cried many tears of sadness for this man, but they were not in vain. He was gone and I was here suffering.
The human heart feels anguish when we lose someone. Even though I didn't know his name, I felt the pull of the universe take his love away from us. Only later would I realize the only one in pain that December day were those of us witnessing the loss of that man. That man who deep inside is the same as me. That man who has been my father. My brother, my mother, my sister, endless times.
When we see transitions, we see ourselves die a little. That day I witnessed a death, and a part of me died, too; the death of my soul as it were. Since then, I’ve been born anew in some sense. My thought patterns aren’t even the same.
When I look out into the world, I see ways to help it, and I see how we are slowly dying, all of us. Time keeps ticking away and with each breath we are closer to joining this man who died on the subway. Hatred is silenced by love. To love is to live. Cultivate love and there is no argument. That man showed me what this life means.
Usually love is expressed and it has a hook on the end. How often do we radiate love onto others like sunshine, wishing nothing in return? A free gift to ignite your soul?
This is what I offer. Unconditional love to all beings the world over. To those sick, those dying, those living, those sad, those happy, those smiling creatures that make up everything we are witness to on this earth, I offer you love.
May you accept and find love wherever you seek it. May it heal your wounds. May it be the key. May It be. Love.
{Patrick Henry Morris is a yoga teacher and make-up artist in New York City. In 2013, he will complete his teacher training at Buddhist center, The Interdependence Project. Follow Patrick online on TUMBLR, Twitter and Facebook.}
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