0 3 DAY OLD ONIONS, RECYCLED OIL, SWEAT & BURNTH CURRY

Someetimes, there are things in life that challenge our certainties.

I was sitting at the assigned bus shelter for my route, tired and eager to get home. I tried to concentrate on my reading, but the smell of three-day-old onions and recycled oil, combined with unwashed body odour and burnt curry, savaged my concentration.

Keeping my face neutral, I tried to breathe through my mouth, discreetly leaving it slightly ajar, while mentally praying for some relief from the stench.

Asking God for forgiveness, I put away my tablet. Reading was a bust. I simply couldn't focus.

I sat up straighter, leaned halfway forward and turned my body to the right, away from the smell. It helped a little, but not enough to keep me in my seat.

Eventually, I got up and walked out of the shelter. The air was cleaner, and the relief to my senses was immediate. I remained standing there until my bus arrived. I was considerably colder, but it was a discomfort I could withstand.

I had always been certain that I wasn't the type of person who would move away from someone because of an unpleasant smell. I imagined myself maintaining a neutral expression, a calm demeanour and simply enduring the situation without drawing attention to the person sitting next to me.

But apparently, I was wrong. I discovered that I couldn't maintain my composure, let alone my seat. I needed to escape the funk! Still, I was mindful not to let my discomfort become her embarrassment. I made no comments, showed no outward signs of disgust and quietly removed myself from the situation. I believe I managed to preserve her dignity, even if I couldn't preserve my seat.

What would you have done?

2 WHEN ACCESSIBILITY BECOMES INACCESSIBILITY

I stood at the intersection of College and Spadina, waiting for the 510 streetcar. Across from me were a Shawarma Max and a Taco Bell.

A woman in an automatic wheelchair drove up to the Taco Bell. She pressed the automatic door opener—nothing. She pressed it again—nothing. Four people walked past, but not one offered assistance. She pressed it again, this time keeping her hand on the button and pressing it four consecutive times quickly, the act making a "1-2-3-4, tum-tum-tum-tum" sound—nothing. Three more people passed by. No staff from Taco Bell came to her aid. I looked west to see if the streetcar was on the way, thinking I could cross the street and open the door for her.

As she readied herself to try the button again, a young Asian man intercepted and opened the door to its full capacity for her, using his body as a stopper to keep it open as she wheeled in. I don't know if she said thank you—I was too far away, and the young man, facing the side of the road and facing me, didn't seem to speak. Once she was inside Taco Bell, he pushed off the door and proceeded to wherever he was going.

As I stood observing, I thought: why didn't any of the employees come to her aid?

I could hear every time she pressed the button, and I was all the way across the street! Maybe they didn't know, or didn't hear? But then I thought, as a business, isn't it the responsibility of the owner or management to ensure all accessibility accommodations are in working order? Shouldn't regular operational maintenance checks be done daily, and signage be put in place to notify potential users if it's not working?

It is a simple thing, but a powerfully impactful thing to those dependent on accessibility considerations to live their everyday lives. I mean, this one moment impacted her ability to feed herself; she couldn't even open the door to gain access just to be able to feed herself.

So much is taken for granted.

#Accessibility, #Toronto, #Advocacy  

1 HUNGER DEFERRED

You tell yourself your a easy going none fussy kinda a person. All kumbaya and shit. Until you're hungry enough and feeling like you want to cannibalize your arm.

I walked into a Paner Bread joint on College Street, not too far from Spadina, and got in line. When I reached closer behind one man, second to the cashier. I began to peruse the baked delights and stop short, lips curling in disgust.

Flies, those big mofos with blueish wings with gold tips that shit and vomit on everything they land on. Metallic blue-green bodies looking like polished armor, and oily wings that flash gold in the display lights. I read somewhere about what they're really doing on a microscopic level—how they're dropping a nasty vacuum mouth, puking up clear stomach acid to melt down the sugar glaze, and dropping tiny dots of filth all over the place, too small for the human eye to even see.

The staff walked around unbothered i thought "oh hell to the fuck no!" as a couple buzzed around and landed on a fat croissant. The cashier made no move to shoo them away. She looked at the man on front of me and ask, "HI, CAN I TAKE YOUR ORDER?" I stood there watching the flies kiss the croissants. "Nah mmm mmm," I lost my appetite. when you see big ass flies landing on all the food. And your like hell nah, fuck hunger and walk the fuck out.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, my mind was just racing, cussing out the whole situation. They can’t even keep the front of the place hygienic? Clean the damn place, nah! I just kept thinking, what the hell the kitchen must look like if the front look so, with all them fly buzzing around?

Shit, I guess I ain't all that kumbaya after all.

Nasty bitches, lemme go home and cook my food. I know for sure it won't have no fly shit and vomit.

4 BREAKING THE HABIT - LISTENING TO YOUR BODY

I have a nasty habit of holding my pee. I will sit for hours, completely absorbed in whatever task has captured my mind, ignoring the very vessel that allows me to do the work.

It starts with the Tremors. This is the second sign the body sends out; I start at the second because the first sign—the gentle nudge—is almost always ignored. When I finally move, it is a desperate performance: the shakes, the wobble, the swing, the shimmy, and the squat. If anyone witnessed it, they’d fall down in side-splitting hilarity.

Lately, the warnings have become even more intimate. I’ll get signals right through the middle of my palms. I can actually feel the need for release there—a strange, sharp urgency—and I find myself massaging the center where the ache resonates, rubbing my hands together as my body frantically tries to get my attention.

I’ve had "accidents" before. But as I sit here now, feeling that familiar vibration, I realize that "accident" is a reach. An accident implies a lack of control, but this is a conscious choice. I am choosing to stay still while my body begs for relief.

It is a kind of self-abandonment we must be careful of. We learn to stop listening, ignoring the beginning signals only to be forced into a terrible ending we could have foregone.

I’m going to go listen now, before the choice becomes a consequence.

0 SAVE YOUR COMMENTARY KNOWING WHEN TO SPEAK IS IMPORTANT

Save your commentary.

As human beings, we often feel we have to comment on everything we see and hear. I've learned there is value in saving your commentary about some things and wisdom in knowing when not to speak it, even if you think it.

Why?
Often what you see tells you little or nothing of the story; it's a cliffhanger or one paragraph in a chapter of a book.
You may speak yourself out of a blessing or an opportunity. Because what you say, how you say it, and to whom you say it tells a story about you that you may not be consciously aware of sharing.
Unless what you have to say has a purpose of enlightenment, encouragement, or motivational upliftment, then speak it. If what you have to say has neither of those things, then save it; keep it to yourself.