The Art of Comfort Rugging

In a world of rampant greed and 'me' orientated thinking the Soul Food Cafe remains a beacon that guides people towards a different style of living. Soul Food was forged in a furnace of events that continue to reverberate through the corridors of my internal world. Soul Food was seeded in the seed bed of 'Writing for Well Being' courses and has grown, in labyrinthine circles to form the shape that exists today. Today the Soul Food Cafe provides water for thirsty travelers who have spent a long time in the deserts and the pebbles that are thrown in her waters form concentric ripples that impact on more and more pilgrims seeking respite from the 'I' society.

A new initiative, as a part of the Temple of Solace, is a program called, for want of a better title, 'Spreading the Comfort Rug'. The plan is to provide a program, create a lonely planet guide to how to clean up the 'me' society and help ensure that people feel that they are genuinely appreciated and cared for.

To begin today I suggest that you visit one of those places that have a free postcard stand. We are going to make good use of these free cards.

At the expense of appearing greedy select half a dozen cards.

Take them home and sit and think about who you feel is a mentor. For example I am in awe and wonder at the generosity of Margaret Olley, one of our famous Australian artists. As a result of reading this article I am going to send Margaret Olley one of the cards telling her how much I admire what she is doing. First of all I have to find out how to mail to her but I am sure someone will be able to help me acquire her address.

Then I am going to send two other cards to two other people who have actively nurtured and cared for me during Darryl's long illness and as a sense of profound loss and grief engulfed me. I may go a step further and let a few other people know just how much their support has meant to me.

Follow my lead and send three cards over the next few days. Consider sending one to someone every week. Then take a moment, come back in here and share with us how doing this made you feel.

Julia Cameron made the Artist Date famous. Take the time to combine an artist date with a girlfriend. Make it a mystery tour. Don't let your friend know exactly what you have planned for the day. Just arrange to meet. Buy two all day public transport tickets and set out, making sure to do something quite different to usual. For example, I like to catch a tram to Melbourne's South Bank and then catch a ferry to Williamstown for lunch. You would be surprised how few locals think to do this. When we come back we usually take the time to look at the top half of Melbourne's buildings. This is where you can see the original city.

I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The
apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab and then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'.

'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said, 'I'm in no hurry, I'm on my way to a hospice'.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very
long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed
under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent,watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said 'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said.'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, ~ BUT ~ THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten people. But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more compassionate by sending it on.

Thank you, my friend...

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.