A Treasure in Traffic

By Brynne Betz

Drivers scramble to get ahead of one another, to pass the flagger before he turns his sign back to Stop. I hear a honk. Another driver yells profanities. Turn signals trafficsafety-flaggerblink like Christmas lights. There . . . there . . . there . . . and there. A city bus squeaks as it breaks, its passengers staring blankly out and over the tops of cars. Construction workers shovel and sweat, their bodies shiny, overworked, exhausted. And their day has only just begun! The air hovers thick with street tar, bubbling, steaming, mixing with the angst of the drivers and their desperate pleas. Work, day care, coffee . . . stress! they all seem to scream, get out of my way!

Inside my Subaru I am warm, at peace. My heart rate is slow and steady. I wave a tight-jawed man to move ahead of me. He reminds me of a horse cut loose from his starting gate. With nowhere to go. Another driver keeps looking into her backseat, her arm reaching backward in awkward positions to soothe her sobbing baby, her car stuck in the same sea of frustration. Drama all around me—peace within.

I wonder what treasures await. Not tomorrow or after I get through this traffic jam, but now, right now—here—in this drama-filled, imagined community of mine. And when I do, my eyes catch sight of a thirty-something man coming out of his apartment. He closes the door and lights up a cigarette. His eyes absorb the scene like a sponge. I see him notice many of the things I do, the chaotic frenzy right outside his home. And I watch as he smokes it all away. One puff after another, he smokes it all away. His face carries a tenderness, a softness that’s something like I feel inside myself. I notice that I am smiling. At this gentle spirit touching my day. In the midst of an anger-frenzied traffic jam.

The thirty-something man turns to walk up a short set of stairs on the side of the building. And when he does, I see it. A swastika tattooed on his calf. Big and dark, hidden by his long shorts but revealed momentarily with each step up the stairs, there it is, shining back at me with conviction. I am confused. Such a hateful tattoo on a man who oozes nothing but kind-hearted spirit. I blink and stare, wondering about the person he is, when the traffic begins to move. I inch forward, closer and closer, to this thirty-something man smoking his cigarette with a swastika tattooed on his leg. And when I am almost beside him, I roll down my window.

“You are such a kind soul. I can see it. I can feel it.” My smile is soft, filled with care.

He brings his cigarette down to his side, cocks his head and stares back at me, his eyes softening, maybe even glistening. “Thank you,” he says with a gentle smile.

“So why? Why do you wear a swastika on your leg? You’re love, not hate, aren’t you?” My voice is genuine. I feel nothing but love in the midst of my vulnerability.

He nods, then drags his head down, heavy, rising up only to speak a few words, “I am love. But I did some stupid things when I was younger.” His head falls back down.

“We all make mistakes,” I offer tenderly, “you’re only human. And it’s ok. All that matters is that now, you’re love.”

He rises his sparkling eyes to mine and shares a smile of pure love.

And the traffic moves.

So I take my foot off the brake.

And he mouths thank you, as I drive away . . .

* * *

Treasures await us in the most unsuspecting places.give-the-gift-of-patience-this-holiday-season-1080x675
And love lingers behind even the most hateful appearances.

Dare to look past appearances, past the things that irritate and anger you to the treasures that inevitably dwell on deeper levels. Maybe it begins with a man on the side of the road as you wait in traffic, or maybe with a feeling that can only emerge when you are forced to truly slow down. No matter the path you decide to take, treasures always await you, daring you to highlight love and to find your peace, and especially in the midst of anger and hate.

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Brynne Betz

Brynne Betz

Brynne Betz is a lover of the sea, of soft eyes, gentle hearts and the wonder in life that escapes even the best of us. She is trained as a transpersonal psychologist and would love to hear from you. Please visit her website at www.brynnebetz.com or send her an email at [email protected]

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