*17*

Bob put his hand in his pocket and jiggled his keys do I have my keys? He closed the car door. He pressed his lips tightly together. He knew that, come hell or high water, he needed his wallet and keys to propel him along. He tapped his other pocket. There was nothing there! His heart leapt up into his throat. Maybe I left it at my Aunt's. Oh, I'll bet it fell out in the car. He pulled out his keys, unlocked the car door and opened it again. He peered down by the side of the seat. Yep, there it is, wedged down next to the seat. He sighed, reached down for his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. He put his other hand in his pocket and jiggled his keys do I have my keys? He closed the car door.

The Zen of nothingness. All Bob had, really, was some clothes at his aunt's, the stuff in storage and his car. No money. Nothing, nada, zip. His unemployment check went to pay the storage and palimony for Denise. This odd kind of freedom forced him to meet people's expectations just to get fed. To survive. His hungry stomach had been gnawing, off and on, for the last hour. He had learned to become accustomed to it, to meditate against it. The smell of the McDonalds a couple of blocks away, however, whet his appetite.

Bob sat, dejected, on the curb. Like dirt on the road. More like a smashed bug on the windshield. A small stream of water trickled along the curb, in meandering wanderings. A short, curved lead weight from balancing a car tire, moss growing in a crack. Bob leaned forward, noticing random shaped bumps on his palms from where they had been resting on the sidewalk behind him. He put his legs in front of him and bent over to stretch his hamstrings. Funny how you can get an enlightening idea at the oddest times, Bob thought. A man's life is like a downward curve, like a rope drooping between two people, like the phone wires between the poles.

A man's life starts at zero. He learns, and he goes slightly downhill. He falls in love for the first time, more downhill. He gets married. Now, the steepest downhill. He has kids. It's all give, give, give. Finally, a man reaches middle age. His body is frazzled, his arteries are clogged, his resources completely drained. He is at rock bottom. So. So then he turns around. He realizes that, at the bottom, he can't drop any further. And then, the amazing enlightenment: when you have utterly nothing else to lose, you can emphatically do anything you want. There's nothing to lose!

He's over the hill. Life can get no worse. He can now ask people to do things for him. He doesn't particularly care any longer what people think of him. He is free to develop his own talents, his own personality, to utilize all of his knowledge in the context of his society. His obligations to his family gradually lessen.

His hair grays, he develops wisdom and is more distinguished. He makes the long climb back up the curve. Piece by piece, iota by iota, he slowly regains all the favors of the work that he has supplied in his long hard life. His kids finally become independent. He manages the psychic and spiritual flow that use to whirl him around in its eddies. He reaches a balance and an inner peace. Finally, when he dies, he is back again at zero.

A woman's life, on the other hand, goes the other way. Her life is like a curved span, an arch of balloons. She too, starts birth at zero. She is admired as a young girl, sugar and candy, everything nice. She is primped as a teenager, boys crave her attention. She is adored for her beauty, and rises higher up the arch. Boys fall in love with her, she rises more. She falls in love, finds a husband to adore and care for her. Steepest rise. She has children. A young mother is the most respected person in society. She is at the peak of her life.

Then, a slight change. Maybe an illness. Maybe one of her parents dies. Something goes wrong with her children. She realizes she no longer attracts men like she used to. Her life has leveled off, she is heading down. She no longer receives the same attention and fondness from her husband, she loses her drive to create more children.

Her days become routine. The days of her friends become routine. She gets wrinkles, her hair grays. Further down. Her beauty steals away. Maybe her marriage becomes routine, grows stale, sours. Eventually, her children move away. Her husband dies. Old and alone, she dies back again at zero.

Bob raised both eyebrows - so this was what it was like to be at the bottom. It made him smile, simply because of the realization that, for it to be any worse, he would have to be dead. Which he wasn't.

In pain, certainly. His chest hurt, his knee hurt, his back hurt, his butt hurt, his heart hurt. Actually, being dead would probably be a relief. But killing himself was not really an option - hell, he had future kids to think about. So he would have to tough it out.

In a certain tragic way, his predicament made Bob laugh at himself. Because of his hemorrhoids, sitting wasn't comfortable, so he would have to walk. But his bad knee made walking for too long painful. To make things worse, he knew that he required vigorous exercise to heal his heart. Life had become a matter of trading one pain for another, of equally balancing the pains. It was walking over hot coals: walk too slowly, you burn you feet, walk too fast, you lose the respect of the tribe. Balance was the key.

"Hey!" a man said, approaching him. "Can I bum a quarter off of you?"

Bob felt shocked - the well-groomed man was dressed in expensive sweats. The stranger sensed Bob's confusion.

"I locked my keys and wallet in my car, and I need a quarter to call my wife." The man gestured, looking over at his BMW.

God smiled at Bob, and Bob smiled at himself. His emergency quarter rested inside his wallet, in the tiny plastic pocket, just in case he ever needed to make a call. He reached into his pocket, opened his wallet, removed his last quarter and handed it to the gentleman.

"Thanks!" the gentleman nodded.

After the man left, Bob sat on the curb and started laughing. A thought came to his head: he is rich who has enough to be charitable. And so this was it, in the long run. Without a job, without a home, without any money, even without his last quarter, it all came down to this. We must help each other.

And, of course, asking for help was the only way off the bottom. God helps those that help themselves. And the way to help yourself is to ask other people to help you. Pride is the last thing a good man gets clear of. After you get clear of pride, then you can ask other people for help.

Lord, please guide me to do the right things to get a job.