On the streets of Las Vegas, a cunning nobody was shouting out for people to watch his magic show.
“The best magic show in all of Vegas!” he repeatedly said, while giving me a knowing smile. That smile communicated it all: the irony, the pain.
He wanted two people to start the show, but they all walked by, oblivious. Or without courage.
Knowing myself, I stepped right up and began the show. We chatted a bit and I felt I knew him on a level deeper than the many tourists blithing by.
The show was good. I didn’t know how he did the tricks, and I was impressed if only because he had taken the time to perfect his act.
Suddenly more and more people congregated. Some left, but others came.
I was the catalyst for his show. And I left when someone handed him the first tip.
But what struck me was not my part in this. What hit home for me was when I was standing there, laughing and smiling, and I turned to the girl next to me.
She looked bored, weary even, though it was obvious she was being taken care of by a man. I laughed at her, and she made no effort back whatsoever. She walked away as if it was the most boring thing in the world.
And I’m sure she carried that boredom with her.
Another man, another night. Another street.
My girlfriend is walking with me. I stop to admire the amazing plant-woven crosses a man is peddling. I have no intention of buying one, but it’s something to admire nonetheless.
My girl just keeps walking, making an active effort not to look in my direction.
I call out to her, and she feigns looking over. I walk up and say to her, “Hey, those crosses are cool. Check ’em out.”
She does not. She says, “I just didn’t want to talk to him.”
“Why not?” I asked, and she couldn’t give me an answer. She wanted me to come into the bar with her, right next to where we were standing.
I wished her good luck and walked away.
You see, I was appalled at her weak behavior.
Like the other woman, who only had dissatisfaction and contempt, an attitude of shallowness drains your soul and only breeds further dissatisfaction and ugliness.
I will make fun of a homeless person for pushing their shopping cart and declaring their failure to the world, but at the same time I recognize that they are still a person.
You cannot be pressured by others or buy into the pathetic shallowness that this culture attempts to breed.
They have tried to take the beauty, the sensuality, the sexuality out of everything. The love.
I am glad that the woman walked away from the cute little magic show. It wasn’t for her.
She can continue to “enjoy” being a parasite and having other people pay her way.
I will work for what I have, and continue to admire the work of others’, even if I don’t envy their station.
What about you? Are you are a parasite?
Or are you generating your own abundance?