The ship of anger


Shop keeping has its’ highs and lows, I must confess, just like everything else in life.
A young man with a naughty energy just came in to the shop. I discretely moved my phone and stood watch over his progress through the shop. From one end to the other he moved through. I had said hello and smiled, (all that one must do instead of having a security system. If people are seen and acknowledged they tend not to steal), but regardless of my charm and the presence of other customers, he reached out and stole a cheap mala.

Interesting moment. What to do? Scream and shout? Or think, wow, that is some karma, stealing a mala. “I am so desperate to move on that I will steal to get there.”
My friend, in the shop at the time, was aghast. “Did you see what he just did?”
Thank God it was not something of more physical value.
I let him go without comment. I would not like to be turning my mantra on that.

I had a complete lunatic in the other day. I know him and know his diagnosis and know full well that he is really dangerous. He started getting wild and woolly and I sat in front of the counter getting more and more uncomfortable, not knowing what to do or how to change the situation and get him out without being strangled in the process.

I finally stood up to my full height (three inches taller than him) and walked to the door and held it open, looking at him. He stopped in mid sentence and walked out.
A minor victory, I know, but a really good lesson in not inflating the sail of another.

The ship of anger that so many carry with them, the fully loaded galleon of all their depression, rage and unfulfilled longings needs no encouragement.