Fabio used to sit on the church steps in my nearest town here in Spain, and busk. With a handful of props, he'd place himself on the middle step, a few feet from the road, beside the traffic lights, where his audience were captive for all of the minutes it took the lights to change to green.
I would wind down my car window and throw him coins, and sometimes coffee flavored sweets, and a big smiling thank you. His serious painted face and his magical mimed 'muchas gracias' lit up my day, always.
'There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle.'
- Albert Einstein
Unknowingly, Fabio became my teacher for a few weeks, just before I left for my third trip to Peru. Or was it my fouth ?
This is what I wrote about him last September:
Recently, I've been thinking about buying a notebook, or is it a netbook ? I don't know the difference! Anyway, a small computer to take on my travels to South America.
It feels like an incredible luxury, such a treat, and I found myself asking: do I really deserve this? I felt I needed it,yes, but deserving it (or meriting it as the Spanish would say) also came into the question. Did I merit it ?
I’m very happy to give almost all the money I earn to support projects in Peru and Bolivia, I can do this without a second thought, but to give a large sum of money to myself these days; well that takes more than a few gulps, and unleashes a rush of deep unfamiliar feelings.
So,the Universe presented me three times with this question:
'What do you honestly believe about giving to yourself?'
The answer came poetically cloaked through the perfect scenario: The Clown. Fabio.
This soulful, heart-filled, young Brazilian mime artist unknowingly became my teacher.
Fabio is enchantingly inventive and quietly clever. I’d asked him to come to our recent fund raiser for Peru (The Chocolatada) ,and he proved to be a great attraction. He didn’t ask for any money. I bought him breakfast on the day, invited him to fill a paper plate with the cakes that were for sale. I gave him €10. The Ecuadorian musician asked for €60. I gave him €70. Fabio the clown lives in a tipi and his only income is busking. He’s about 35, tall, dark eyed and gentle. The small Ecuadorian lives in Granada with his wife, two children, and a tiny baby with a serious health problem.
The first day I thought about buying the notebook, which turned out to be a netbook, the clown was behind me in the supermarket. We exchanged smiles and I paid for his carton of milk, which was all he was buying. Some friends then arrived and asked me how I was. When Fabio heard I'd been ill, he advised me eat lots of cooked garlic, and looked concerned. I was on my way to spending a lot of money on the lap top. I felt deeply uncomfortable about his care for me when I was only buying him a carton of milk. I could have asked him if he needed anything else, or bought him a weeks groceries, it didn’t seem fair I’d paid the Ecuadorian €70 and him only €10.
I didn’t buy the notebook that day. I had a crisis of ideals.
What if I gave him all the money I had for the lap top?
I didn’t.
On the way to the computer shop for the second time, I passed the clown again. All my confused feelings about being generous to myself got stirred and churned. I didn’t buy the netbook, but said to the shopkeeper I’d make a decision in a few days time.
On my way back from the shop the third time, would you believe, I saw Fabio again. This time my feelings didn’t get stirred. I’d bought the small computer. I'd been delighted to tuck it into its snug little scarlet case. I had it in my hand, in a bag. I now felt more than ready to go to Peru. My journey this time was going to be different. No more hours of hunting for Internet outlets which are usually filled with high energy teenage boys, in back streets, grotty, noisy,and dingy.
Fabio was sitting on the steps of the church, once again. It was a cold day. I noticed he was wearing two pairs of woolen socks. We soon got into a long deep conversation about spirituality, Peru and healing. He’d been all over Peru and had lived in the village where I stay when I’m there.
As I looked into his eyes and listened to his voice I felt such love for him. Time stood still. I noticed a few friends passing in cars and on foot but I had no inclination to change my focus. My heart was singing, I think his was too; there was no stopping him talking.
Finally two friends arrived and paused a few paces away from us, as if respectfully allowing us our conversation, waiting for an entry.
Finally I left him, and feeling hungry, stopped at the bakers. I bought Fabio a spinach filled empanada and a slice of creamy cheesecake, and myself a cheesy empanada.
The bakers wife stacked Fabio’s goodies on a little paper plate and handed it to me with a thin white napkin. Mine she slid into a see- tough plastic bag. She had a sore arm. She was in great pain. She struggled to do her job. I felt such love for her. She looked at me as if for a minute she knew this.
I walked back down to the church steps where Fabio was still sitting, carrying the two bags, one with the brand new netbook in it, the other with the food.
‘Guess you're vegetarian’ I said to him, ‘so it’s just spinach.’
He beamed and nodded and accepted the gift. I walked away with his smile in my heart, feeling connected, knowing the glow had nothing to do with netbooks or food or sore arms or empanadas, but everything to do with moments of sharing from our hearts.
That's what he taught me, or rather, helped me remember.
“Tell me and I'll forget; show me and I may remember; involve me and I'll understand.”
Chinese Proverb.
Do I deserve this glow ? Do I understand the real lesson in this? Giving to others activates this glow. When somebody else activates that energy in me,my soul soars.
Computers and phones and cash are part of life today, for many of us. Not for my friends in Peru. I believe money is an energy. It's colored paper. It comes and it goes. Real sharing is a heart matter. That's why I feel giving to charities can be a double edged sword. It can swipe out that person to person connection, and create a hunger that is impossible to satisfy.
“If you want to feel rich, just count the things you have that money can't buy”
Proverb
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