This morning as I drove out from my house, I saw a dead deer on the road side. Living as I do in the land of rapid developments and ruthless cutting down of natural wooded habitats, I am used to seeing small roadkill as animals haplessly encounter more and more man-made roads and metal killing machines. Still, every time I see a larger animal, say a cat or a dog or a deer meet its demise under the wheels of a car, I feel a little sad. Usually, involuntarily, I would sigh and mourn for that death, if only for a moment.
As I was walking into the metro station this morning, I walked by a person sleeping in the corner. He is by all accounts, homeless. But what caught my attention was the fact that his face was all cut up with fresh wounds. The wounds seem fresh enough that the blood has not even had time to react with the oxygen and darken. For a moment, I wondered if he was dead instead of asleep. I even thought I'd go and wake him up and asked him if he was alright. My good samaritan wishes lasted but a microsecond and quickly, my fears, my tendency to be protective of self took over and I walked on, rationalizing that he looks like he is asleep and plus, I was going to be late for work and plus I don't even know what I would do for him if he did need medical help and plus what if he turned violent or nasty or what if he really were dead?
Ideally, in a perfect world, I would be a person of strong, full-steam ahead convictions. When I feel the need to help someone, I would just do it, irregardless of consequences, stripped of all thoughts of self. I would cast aside my wimpy, scared, tentative self and emerge, Superhero Emily, saving the world one day at a time.
Realistically, I'm so far from being that person it's not even funny. =(
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