GRAY-FACED MAN

There is a gray-faced man in his 70’s that I see every morning on my way to the market.  He shuffles along in his flip-flops, his arms folded across his chest, and wearing no coat to speak of.  His voice is raspy due to his constant talking to himself. 

Staring straight ahead, he notices me out of the corner of his eye, as he has done for years now.  I say good morning to him without fail, and he reciprocates in his way, whereupon he returns to his muttering. 

Why exactly I was prompted to greet him from the first day I encountered him, I do not know.  I felt compassion toward him at the very least, as he is clearly mentally challenged. 

Since we are crossing paths so often now, twice a day sometimes, the first that has ever happened, I sense that it is more than just synchronicity, meaningful coincidence.  Could it be that he and I have known each other many times, as different people, in our past lives?  We still recognize each other through the fog. 

The possibility occurred to me then that everyone I meet in my day-to-day life, and have ever met in my countless everyday lives over the centuries, I have met before.  Day in and day out the same people, different identities, but the same people.

This morning I stopped the gray-faced man and asked him, in the midst of his mumbling, who he was talking to, and he replied “you.”  Well, that was encouraging I thought to myself, but it was too obvious.  I then saw that I was not the “you” he was referring to.  Now I was even more encouraged.