I wanted to tell you about my experience at the airport. I had taken my daughter to catch a flight. She was a bit nervous about the normal preparations associated with flying. I on the other hand am on Cloud 9 anytime I get to go to a place with a high concentration of human beings where I can watch them and interact! So I became a sense sponge, the moment we got into the parking garage. • A “sense sponge”: one who sponges or absorbs all that is stimulating their senses.
The first offense to my senses was auditory. An ominous voice came over a loud speaker, telling us to remain vigilant about all other passengers in the airport. The tape played over and over encouraging me to be suspicious about anyone and everyone around me, placing me in a onguard state of mind. The second offense was visual. I was accosted by all of the signs around the airport again warning me of all the potential problems. The third was on the trolley, on the way to her boarding gate. We are gathered into a small space where again, the hyper-vigilant voice tells us that everybody is up to no good and as a clairsentient empath, I can feel tension increase.
Now, let me tell you about my experience, separate from the one the airport was trying to give to me. When I set foot in that airport, we were looking for the ticket counter to ask if I could acompany my daughter to the gate. We walked up to the gate where I told them that even though my daughter was 18, I still wanted to go with her because that’s the kind of mother I was. The man behind the counter giggled at me and more than willingly gave me a pass, after seeing the proper credentials. He wished me a good day and her a happy flight. We even exchanged some pleasantries.
In the line for security, there was a blessed mother of infant twins who were extremely hungry. The babies were screaming and as one would calm down the other would get revved up again, reigniting her sister. Most all of us around that mother were trying to be of assistance in any way possible, helping to push her stroller and even offering to help hold a baby.
By the time I was on the trolley, I had had enough of the propaganda. I spoke loudly, over the tape telling me to be cautious of everyone around me. In a bellowing voice I said, “Smile at the person on your left. Be of assistance to the person on your right. When you meet a stranger, tell em a joke!”, and I grinned big, making eye contact with all those around me. All of the people around me smiled and said, “Exactly”. Before we got off the trolley, I attempted to do the flag, to no avail. Again the people around me giggled in kind reception. My daughter affirmed the lameness of my effort.
Everywhere I go, I am the same person. I am a connector. Everywhere I go, I am greeted with receptive kindness. These Are My People. You Are My People. And everywhere I go, extendingg kindness, kindness is returned to me. We exchange love. It is nothing like that loudspeaker tells me; nothing like the media wants me to think.
Let us each open our own eyes and our own ears and make decisions for ourselves, about what kind of people we are. We get to decide what kind of humanity we are. And if we are not happy with our assessment, we are free to make change.
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU