She's hard... and I told her so.

Without going into details I bought something somewhere that started a conversation ending in me saying I'd bring back two articles that the women I'd been talking to would appreciate adding to her collection. In figuring when I'd return with these articles I added to my list of needs that I could ask her if she sold stuff on behalf and if she did I'd give her these articles as a sign of good faith.

See, I want people to have what they want, I want them to achieve the happiness they seek and if I have something they want I want them to at least honour the fact that I possess what they want for some kind of a reason as I try to honour what others might have that I want from them. And it's about those relationships much, much more than the things themselves. It's like if something comes into my possession and I fix it up then I'm both finding it and fixing it up for someone somewhere and it is both an honour to be given that task and an honour to be part of  succession of events that lead to people relating to other people searching within life with that which might make them feel greater than they were and ultimately as great as they are.

Not that I'm a saint by any stretch as I suffer to from a sense of self without equal but I have enough moments of humility thrust upon me that always in the back of my mind, and trickling up from my heart, is a sense that I'm a part of something much bigger than just me and that remembering honour and trying to be honourable without thinking to much always leads to a greater peace and calm within me.

So when I found this woman and saw her joy at what I had for her it was slightly perturbing when she offered me a pittance for them and I told her she was hard. She said she needed to be because she was in business. What I saw, and felt, was that though she was collecting something that brought her joy she wasn't honouring the journey that brought it to her. She was working under a misguided idea that being businesslike, as in hard selling and buying (buy low and sell high) was the way that joy and accomplishment is achieved. Of course, such people are the last ones who'd ever get in a line to be told such so I just kept my mouth shut, accepted her amount and was told to go see the help to receive my payout.

Suddenly bells are clanging in my head as all honour I might have had in the handover is lowered to the floor of a cash transaction... and one requiring my identity be proved. But I still want her to have these pieces that gave her joy so as I stand there before the counter and the help does book things I figure I can just give them over and leave and hold my honour intact.

So I did. "Don't you want your money?" "No, I'm fine" and I leave. "You're sure?" as I walk up the stairs. "Yes".

It's not even that she who received what I left behind even has to consider how I acted. That's not my responsibility, it's hers to choose to or not but my responsibility is to honour my idea of what is worth honouring... which is just about everything even when people attempt to dishonour what I believe honour to be.

There's an old Native Indian farewell that is "Walk in Beauty" and this above is how I work such ideas into my own life. There is no dividing line between the crass reality of greed and selfishness and trying to live an honourable life. If there is it simply means you cross it more than you should... but in time one won't because the benefits of not crossing are far greater as what line there ever was vanishes.

And all throughout this experience the concept of honour didn't once cross my mind. I just did as I felt was right. Did as quickly as possible whatever sent doubts packing and got back to just being happy. In hindsight I can ascribe what might be honour to my actions but that's really just a word used to describe something after the fact. Who knows, maybe I was as self serving as she was and my actions have only made my delusions deeper and the truth, whatever that is, is still as plunged in the mud as it seems to be everywhere else in this mess we call modern life.

I don't know, I have no idea... but it felt right. I felt like a dog shaking off the water and mud and ready to go rub myself on some clean blankets.