I used to have an instructor in my counseling courses, Jerry Benjamin, who constantly addressed us, the entire class, as "Beloved". He could be looking all around the room, eyes focused on nothing, but focused on me, locked on my eyes, all at once. He had the amazing ability to speak to a room full of people (all 52 of us in this instance), but still speak to just me, only me.
He was a Messianic Jew (we can all discuss the complexities and questions about this at another time), and had the most amazing stories to tell. He captured my attention then and the mere memory of his classes continues to do so now.
Admittedly, I had the hugest crush on him... not in the sort of way that you would think though. It wasn't THAT kind of crush; it was more of an intellectual crush, admiration really. I admired him a great deal.
His method of referring to us as "Beloved" added such a graceful and innocent intimacy to the entire experience... I can't really describe it, but it was a great feeling; the best week of concentrated study that I had during the entire eight week course, for certain.
I believe it's the little things that drive us, that motivate us to do our finest and be our best. The random day-to-day, smallish words, phrases, and gestures cause us to want to be the best person we can possibly be. Right? Yes? No? I don't know what I'm talking about (?).
No... I do know what I'm talking about. Sort of.
"You're the greatest!" makes me want to actually BE the greatest. That is truth.
***
There's a back room here at the office that we use mainly for storage - not many venture back there for much more than taking out the trash. My boss was giving a tour this afternoon to a visitor, an old friend of both the candidate and staff who stopped in today to say hello. I heard a commotion outside my office door during this tour and stepped out to see what the hustle and bustle was all about. There they were: five or six staff people, plus our guest, standing at the entrance to the storage room. All of them had a look on their faces... disbelief? astonishment? confusion? worry? fear? Don't know. They all had a look though. I asked sal what the problem was.
"There's some guy sleeping in our storage room. Some homeless guy perhaps? I don't know who this person is!"
All of them exchanged glances as if to say "Will Bret Schundler be considered a jerk if we kick a homeless guy out of our storage room?"
I peeked in the room.
"Ummm... that's Josh. You know, your Central NJ Field director's 17 year-old son?"
My job could be more difficult, but I kind of like it just where it is, you know?
 | Currently listening : Dial M for Monkey By Bonobo Release date: By 17 June, 2003 |
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