‘Really.’ I said, feeling nothing at all.
His words were kind, minimal. ‘Yes, we are restless as a race. So.’
So, we needed a break, but not to be broken, right? The young Padre smiles, like an old man. He’s seen too much, I guess as he blinks back tears.
‘Sometimes suffering makes us feel some good things.’
Later we know he gave up every little thing he ever had to join this community of underprivileged people, he lives with them, with just 2 sets of clothes, no fussy car and lifestyle.
‘Here I’ve found not just peace, but rest. All my excess was my distraction. It clouded my focus.’
He made us uncomfortable, but we pressed for more. ‘I have all I need here in these people’s needs. They have so little, I have so much to give from all I’ve received.’
We look briefly at the small notebooks and box of pencils, all around the floor; look briefly at their little and older faces eager for the simple things: the alphabet, addition, subtraction.
What else does he do, offer health care?
Unsure that I want to know more: the past few hours here are proof enough that the more humans grew markets, the less we cared for lesser materially-abled communities.
I say that out loud, but the young Padre shakes his head. ‘Its not all about material things,’ he begins, his face flushing. I know, I know, but can’t take more.
We go home and think how enlarged the human spirit must be to impact others with that ‘little‘. Ay, less is the new more: it allows for a certain freedom we may not even know we have, we had?
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