Forgive me for this post is not beginning with any one topic in mind. I am just going to start and see where it goes. I have had quite a few things on my mind as of late, so here it goes.

Life is struggle. It is not easy and I don't think it is meant to be. Lately this has been extremely evident to me. Constantly bombarded with the good and the bad, it seems as if life will never release the pressure. So many things that cause pain, stress, sadness, but there are few that seem to make those negatives disappear.

Today was a typical day. Work, deadlines, stress, and all quite a bit for a Monday. By lunch I was ready for a break, and feeling a little more down than usual. Two things happened on my way home for my daily dose of peanut butter and jelly, and I had two interactions that made my day seem worthwhile. First, right as I was crossing Grant, a couple asked me to take their photo in front of the Chinatown gates. Simple enough, and I was glad to help them. A small gesture of friendliness that I hope shows that not everyone is cold and cruel in this country. Farther up Bush, I was walking along and a man asked me if I could help him. I almost didn't realize he was speaking to me, but did catch on before I was past. He needed help assisting a lady in a wheelchair up a few stairs into their building. The lady was missing her feet, and it seemed like it was hard enough, the man couldn't get her up easily on his own. I wasn't sure where I could grab hold of the chair, but I found my grip and helped them up the stairs. The man thanked me, and the lady did as well, though with a touching sincerity in her voice. Something about the way she said thank you was deep and more profound than the usual exchange. I am not sure what it was, but it struck a note with me and I have been remembering it since.

Those two events made this day worthwhile for me. Where so many things are seemingly pushing me down, two small exchanges make it better. Reflecting on those interactions and why I am still thinking about them, I can only see that the fact that I was able to help others made me feel good.

When I speak of struggle, I really know nothing of what I am talking about. I know nothing of struggle. I have had a relatively easy life without any serious complications, so to speak of struggle as if I can truly understand is extremely naïve of myself. I can not speak from first hand experience, but I have seen it first hand. I have seen what is common for people to live with in a number of places in the world. Especially in the streets of Oaxaca and Los Caracoles of the EZLN in Chiapas. In those regions are the people that know of struggle; the struggle to stay alive, and I wish I could help them. Their struggle is not mine, and I feel as if it is belittling to assume I can understand what theirs is like. I know my power to help them is limited, but I do give them my support in anyway I can and my respect.

Such respect is what I would like to give most people around me, especially the old lady and man I helped today. My struggle is their struggle; the struggle of the Zapatistas in Chiapas, mi amiga Maricela and her family in the streets of Oaxaca, and the old lady that has lost both of her feet. My struggle is to understand their struggle and give them the respect that they deserve, for those are the people that have earned it. I feel this is something that we forget here in this country where we are all very fortunate, though some more than others. I hope never to forget, and to only further understand my struggle through the struggle of others.