Last week, a homeless man, Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax, intervened to stop a physical altercation between a man and a woman in Queens.  A few hours later, he was found dead on the sidewalk as a victim of multiple stab wounds.  According to surveillance video, the man collapsed on the street a couple hours before emergency personnel were summoned to the scene.  In the interim, 25 people passed by him without offering assistance or even checking to see how he was doing.

This being NYC, most people are seemingly nonplussed by the commitment of murder.  Rather, it is the apparent disregard for the plight of a man lying face down on the sidewalk (as he might have slowly been dying) that is causing the greatest concern for our humanity.  Why did no one offer to help? Most of the press coverage has characterized Mr. Tale-Yax’s murder as the “death of a good Samaritan,” based on his role in assisting the woman being assaulted earlier in the evening.

For the New York Times account of the story, click here:  Good Samaritan

For the New York Post story (and surveillance video), click here:  Good Samaritan

In considering this characterization, I reflected on the biblical story of the Good Samaritan.  Found in the Gospel of Luke, the original parable describes the actions of a man (i.e., the good Samaritan) who showed mercy for someone who he found hurt by the side of the road.  He bandaged the wounded man and paid for him to receive lodging and care after he personally escorted him to a local inn.  Others had passed-by this same man, and offered no assistance.  Barring any allegorical interpretations, the parable is meant to illustrate that everyone is deserving of our compassion, just as we bestow it upon ourselves (i.e., “Love they neighbor like thyself”).

So, in considering what happened last week, “the death of a good Samaritan” applies not only to Mr. Tale-Yax, but also to the 2 dozen people who passed by without demonstrating any concern or compassion.  What has become of us that we no longer offer help to someone in need?  Are we too overwhelmed?  Uncaring?  Too distracted?  Too scared?  What action–even something small–can we take in such circumstances? What would you have done?  What will you do next time?  How would you want someone to respond if you were in distress?

Been feeling like I am autopilot these days. Everything is moving forward, day by day, the routine, the familiar, but where have I been in the middle of all this? Autopilot.

The city can be like a conveyer belt . The trains ride according to a schedule (well, sometimes). You get out the door the every morning, pick up the morning coffee/tea/water/paper and get on/in a form of transportation to wherever the day takes you routinely (school/work/family/doctors offices), and do whatever it is that you do at such places (work/learn/play/sit). And you leave at the end of the day back on/in the train/bus/car/bicycle/wheelchair/motorcycle to meet with friends/visit a relative/go to the gym/go to a bar/attend a meeting/do some other routine activity before returning to your home to your significant other/cat/dog/TV/reflection. And then, the whole thing starts up again. Feels a little like groundhog day to me. In psychology, we call this “habituation.” When you get so used to stimuli in the environment, you just don’t respond to it anymore (cognitively, behaviorally, emotionally). In other words… autopilot.

Mindfulness practice tells us to live it all, live each moment, even the routine tooth-brushing, the eating of a meal, walking, breathing. But when on autopilot, that is all forgotten.

What gets us out of moments of autopilot and back into our lives? Hard to say. It is probably different for each of us. You could always bungee jump, do a run on a half-pipe, or skydive. You can’t bungee jump 24/7—well maybe you can but I imagine that would give you a big headache. And with enough jumps, you’d habituate to that too. No, something different seems required.

Stepping out of autopilot in daily life takes intention. For me, doing something different, stepping out of the routine even in small ways helps me to be mindful of the moment. Sometimes the city does it for you, presents something shocking or unexpected that helps bring awareness of the moment. Most of the time, though, we need to make an effort. We can’t wait around for something exciting or different to happen. Here are some simple things I’ve tried recently to change some of the little routine things pushing me along on the conveyer belt.

• I have a wonderful cinnamon spice tea that I really love but haven’t had in 5 months for some reason. So I made some in lieu of my regular routine morning coffee. I can’t tell you anything about the past 3 weeks of coffee, but I remember my tea.
• Changed my hair.
• Tried a new restaurant in the neighborhood.
• Spent time in a part of the city I don’t usually go.
• Wore something in my closet I haven’t worn in a long time.
• Took a different route to work.
• Paid attention to everything beginning to bloom in the city, the trees, the crocuses, the magnolias.
• Spent a long weekend away from the city.
• Took my guitar out of the case for the first time in a year.
• Said “yes” instead of a routine “no” and “no” instead of a routine “yes.

Nothing major, just stepping off the conveyor belt for a few brief moments and seeing what is there.

“Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffective concerning all acts of initiative (and creation). There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and inspirations. That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves also. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would come his way. Whatever you can dream, you can – begin it. Boldness has genius, power, magic in it. Begin it now”.

–Wolfgang Goethe

I have always loved this quote and revisited it recently in my continued efforts to build my mindfulness practice and get back on track with a regular morning sitting. In previous posts, I’ve written about the challenge of “falling off the mindfulness practice wagon” and trying to get back on. That has been a present struggle over the past couple of months, but it is starting to come together. Goethe knows what he is talking about (like I even needed to say that!). It seems like the indecision in and of itself is the major obstacle to practice. Once the decision is made, once one commits, all of the struggle and inner discussion drops away. The question is, how does one make the move to commit? How do we get to the point of decision?

These are questions relevant for a host of challenges, be it developing a sitting practice, starting an exercise program, eating healthfully, applying for a new job or school, (even cleaning the bathroom!) anything that one might try to avoid, takes effort or for which one has ambivalent feelings. But as Goethe councils, once we make the “decision to do” we can be presented with a host of supports and aids in our efforts.

So I am wondering UM readers, what is your experience with this? How do you move from indecision to decisions, from being uncommitted to committed? What magic has come to support you in your commitments? What help can we offer each other to transform Goethe’s words into action in our lives?

In the wake of the historic inauguration of Barack Obama as our first Black President, it seems a little trite to write about how to meditate on the subway today. Pres. Obama has succeeded in inspiring hope and confidence in millions of people across the globe. Acknowledging the difficult road before us as a nation, he instills a sense of confidence that we can successfully overcome our challenges. Indeed, he was elected based significantly on his ability to inspire Americans in his (and our) ability to bring about change.

While listening to his speeches, I often found myself thinking some cynical version of “We’ll see about that.” Perhaps I’ve been disappointed by too many of our political leaders in the past? Or perhaps I am defensively preparing myself for inevitable failures, compromises, and partial successes? Regardless, I resist being hopeful. It’s a variation of the classic pessimist’s argument: if I don’t get my hopes up, then I’m not disappointed when things don’t work out. Why risk falling when you can just hang out on the ground?

From a mindfulness perspective, both pessimism and optimism are states of mind introduced into the present moment, but neither accurately describes what is happening now. They represent our expectations or predictions for what will happen in the future, which has yet to occur. In a way, they are both wrong. We don’t know what’s really going to happen (on Monday, did anyone predict that Caroline Kennedy would withdraw from consideration for the NY Senate seat vacated by Hillary Clinton?). And, whether we embrace optimism or pessimism, it says more about our personal past than what the future holds.

Despite their inherent inaccuracy, these attitudes profoundly influence our experience in the present. If I am pessimistic, then I will give voice to the naysayer within and feel jaded. If I am optimistic, then I feel happy and hopeful. Psychological research has consistently demonstrated the inter-relationship between our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. If I think that Pres. Obama will fail, then I will feel sad and give voice to the critic within. If I feel happy, then I am prone to think that he will succeed and I might even check-out his weekly Presidential Address on YouTube.

So, what to do? Do I remain pessimistic and cynical in the present in order to prepare myself for some future disappointment? Or do I cultivate optimism and become inspired for future success?

I think it’s time for me to give in to hope.