Gia Raquel

There are these points in a person’s life where they think, this is good, this is right. And that’s when you have everything to lose. Pessimistic? Yeah! Sounds like it! But really, think about it.

I’ll never forget my encounter with an old Argentinian man, strumming his guitar and singing in the middle of Cambridge. I remember walking around the town, exploring the unfamiliar streets and curves. Along my way, I heard this voice, thick like molasses, echoing in the open. He sang these Spanish songs I recognized from countless family gatherings and parties full of dancing and drinks. I had nowhere I needed to be, except for maybe here.

We were in what seemed to be a circle made of brick. He set up his speakers and chair on one end, while I sat across from him on the bricks from the other side. When he finished singing, I clapped. He looked up at the sound, taken out of his daze, and smiled at me. His expression was so warm, I could’ve sworn I knew it from somewhere. He spoke into the microphone, asking me questions about myself. I happily replied, and joined him at his edge of the circle, ever intrigued by who this man is.

From a cold heart to a warm one, we came from opposite spectrums of understanding. An old soul and a youthful one, I didn’t comprehend the capability of this man. His face was etched with soft lines and dark features, a wave of innocence and kindness emitting from a person who has seen so much. It was terribly ironic how I ended up being the one with an old soul and cold heart. But, it was wondrously beautiful to see this man possess such happiness with his guitar and voice.

I’m not sure how long we spoke for. Time wasn’t of the essence to either of us, and I’m grateful for that. Many stories we shared to each other are probably lost from the potholes of memory. Frankly, I’m not even certain if he remembers me. But I refuse to forget him. Because in forgetting him, I fear in losing all he taught me in the little hours I spent with him under that easy Cambridge sun.

The year prior to meeting him, I learned how to put myself first. I couldn’t understand how to balance my care for other people and myself. I would end up going to extremes and care for others without any regard to myself, in hopes they would do the same.

Looking back, I would kick myself. I really would! Who was I to act like I was a victim soul? At least I’ve gained some perspective! But even speaking to this man, I didn’t realize the weight of his words. I was still tangled in wires of my cold consciousness.

When I told him I believed in putting myself first, he frowned a little. I tried explaining to him how people sometimes need to be selfish, they need to look out for themselves. He shook his head. He replied simply, with little room to argue. Our purpose in life is to care for others. We grow up to care and love our friends, our spouses. We have children to watch them learn from who we are, in hopes of helping them develop into good people. Of course, there is time to look out for yourself, but he told me I wouldn’t know, not until I would feel a kind of love and trust you stumbled upon every so often. I didn’t believe him. I cared for people, my friends, my family, what more could there be? Why wouldn’t I be able to go through my life knowing I would treat myself the best I could?

I’m still young, still learning. However, I was cynical. I still am, but hardly as much as I was when I first met him. I see it now. I understand how important it is to show that care to other people. I didn’t realize, but it was the same care I showed him that day. It was the small act of speaking to him and laughing with him, it was that tiny step of gaining some perspective on the faith we all hold for who we are as a whole.

So here I pass on the words from a man whose name I no longer hold. I hope it does someone good. To those who feel the familiar cynicism I once knew all too well, may this have some use to you. I spent so long convincing myself I was the only person I needed to look out for. That it’s easier to forget about the worries of others and the hardships they face. But in doing so, I lost my empathy. And with that, a piece of my humanity.

It’s so hard to protect that piece of yourself. But with it, comes all the things we as humans yearn for and dream about. Sure, you can numb it all away. Are you happy, though? Truly happy? It seems that when you have that happiness, you have everything to lose.

But God, it’s worth it.