Angel
ANGEL > Being in a particularly contemplative mode, I took a walk along the Moss Beach bluffs just north of the famed Mavericks big wave surf break in northern California and took respite upon a bench with no more intention than to sit, gaze, and ponder the stirrings inside. A voice called from nearby, breaking the stillness, asking if I had a phone charger. I replied matter of factly that I did not, measuring my response so it wouldn’t be construed as an invitation for further discourse.
I wanted to proceed uninterrupted with my important work of revealing inner mysteries and contemplate the grand afflictions of the world. The voice pressed on, a bit to my surprise, saying he had a cord but just needed the charger because his phone was dead and had no way of calling his friends for a ride. I offered that he call from mine, but he declined. As the young man in his late teens approached, I chuckled resigning myself to an acceptance that my afternoon meditation had just been usurped by a chatty kid with a dead phone and no one to talk to except me.
Rob introduced himself and told me he had taken BART and a bus over from Oakland to see a girl that he’d met on Snapchat. She wasn’t home, the older sister had told him, so he was just going to hang out and wait for her. Swaggering over to the bluff, disregarding cautions one might take at a cliff’s edge on loose soil peering over a 100-foot drop to the beach below, he commented how cool it would be to zip line down to the rocks a quarter mile off shore - I agreed. He told me he wasn’t just from the east side of Oakland, but the ‘east-east’ side which I took to mean the really-really rough part of town - I wouldn’t know.
He began unpacking his whole life story from his father dying at a young age, to being toughened up by his uncle, how being in a gang gave him protection so nobody messed with him, how he’d been with a hundred girls and a few guys, to delivering drugs into San Quentin prison by flying drones over the fence dropping packages into the compound inciting yard riots on each occasion, to killing a man who had threatened to rape his mom - “three to the chest”. It seemed that with each story he was trying to outdo the last - I listened intently and he went on.
A part of me, that's probably watched too many movies, wondered if this whole scene might be a setup with Rob playing the frontman to distract the dope, me, while an accomplice nonchalantly walks by, knocks me out cold and they make away with my wallet. To calm that spidey-sense paranoia, I casually turned and scanned behind me to each side. Sure enough, two people were indeed approaching, but they held the smiling faces of neighbors I knew who waived as they passed by.
No accomplice, no getaway car, no setup - just this kid, desperate to be heard and acknowledged, spilling his guts to me while I listened intently without judgement as to whether there was a shred of truth to any of it for as long as he needed to talk. I sensed an immense loneliness in this young man and, with a gentle knowing, broke into his story mid-sentence asserting, “Rob, you’re not alone”, repeating it more slowly and firmly letting the words soak in, “You are not alone”.
His egoic self stunned and unable to process, this truth sourced deeply from heart space invited him to join me in trusting vulnerability where the many layers of tough-guy facade cloaking his scared and insecure self could drop away safely. I asked pointedly, “Rob, what do you think your soul is here to learn in this lifetime?” Taking it in, and responding from his intuition as much as I was mine, he replied softly, “I’m learning to take care of people, and I take good care of my mom.”
“I bet you take great care of her, Rob.”
“Actually, my name is Angelo - my mom calls me Angel”.
“Well Angel, you are a good man.”
Not knowing what he might say nor what I might do, I asked Angel from a deep place of sincerity if there was anything he needed simply relying on an open-heartedness that had enveloped us both. His response floored me. He didn’t ask for money or a phone or a ride or food. Angel’s only request was for some water - he was thirsty - for liquid to sustain the body, and more deeply, for compassion to quench the thirst of a parched soul.
I said I’d be happy to get him some water and that I’d be back shortly. Returning a few minutes later from my car, in which I always keep extra water, I called over to Angel as I approached. Though gone only a short time, he seemed pleased and somewhat surprised to see me again. I understood instantly, his eyes unable to conceal the number of times he’d been abandoned and let down in life. I gave him two bottles and put $40 in his hand saying, “Angel, here’s some water and I want you to get yourself something to eat. There should be enough to get you a ride home - and take good care of your mother.”
He choked up unable to express himself, feeling feelings from a place I imagine he rarely dwells, but finally managed a few words saying, “Can I give you a hug?” Accepting with open arms and without hesitation, we embraced as two friends, brothers, with shared mutual respect, appreciation, and connection. I couldn’t imagine there being another person on the planet more in need of a hug at that moment than Angel.
“Will I ever see you again?” he asked, and though we hadn’t exchanged contact info I replied with certainty that we would. Whether in this lifetime or the next or a hundred from now, I look forward to seeing how Angel has grown, how well he’s caring for people, and to give him another hug of encouragement on his journey when we do. I bid him farewell reiterating, “Remember Angel, you are not alone”. Our eyes met with a smile, a silent nod, and a profound sense of knowing that I’d spoken truth for both of us.
Thank you Angel - I am forever indebted for your part in our shared experience that allowed my heart to be touched so deeply. You revealed a place within me where I know in no uncertain terms that God lives.
