Commitment

On the way home tonight, the doors to the subway train opened and the train car was inundated with screams from an elderly blind man who was standing on the platform. Apparently, he had been screaming for two hours for someone to help him onto the train. I held the door open and a kind gentleman helped him into the car and then out again when he reached his stop. The man had a cane and was riddled with arthritis. I cannot imagine how his body and spirit felt during those hours when he screamed and no one responded.

The incident made me think about commitment: the bonds we make with each other and ourselves. Like trusting, making a commitment seems almost impossible to me. I remember how Karen yelled at me when I almost backed out of a date. I had single-handedly decided that we couldn't meet, without giving her the chance to find a compromise. "The thing is," I said, "I love my cats and I also love you." I was worried that Henry wasn't feeling well. She said, "Do you really think he is going to die if you leave?" "No," I responded. I hadn't thought it through at all. I was just hanging in my anxiety, like I always do. Paralyzed by my own insecurity.

That's probably what was happening to the folks in the train cars who did not respond to that man tonight. They thought, "But, what if the train leaves without me because I tried to help this guy?" They didn't think that, well, you can just block the doors from closing. They just got locked into the idea of risk.

In my entire life, I have maybe taken five risks including the one with Karen that night.

Commitment involves so much risk. But, without it, we are just screaming into the air.