I was supposed to be meeting my attorney for coffee and a contract, but he never showed. I don’t believe in wasted moments.
Two patrons were in the coffee shop. One, a man from Armenia. He spoke openly about his philosophy and views on the politics of our day.
The second, was an older man with a cane who walked up to the barista and asked her, “What is your passion.”
Now that question intrigued me. It’s only asked by philosophers.
I walked up to the counter and passed her my empty coffee, asking her for another, which opened a space for me in the conversation.
I wasted no time. I invited the old man to tell me about himself.
A retired school teacher for grade school. Born in Brooklyn and lived here his whole life.
“What about you?” I asked the other gentleman at the counter.
“I’m from Armenia. Been in NYC for 20+ years now.”
We pulled the barista into the conversation, and she explained how she had studied psychology in college, had her bachelor’s degree, but wasn’t sure what to do with her life yet. She was 29 years old.
The man from Armenia turned it on me then and asked, “What about you? What’s your story?”
“I?” I calmly answered, but I felt the PTSD ignite as I spoke. “I was raped on 9/11. I come from a place that many people don’t even know still exists in this country.” I told him briefly how I was a sex slave and how, where I come from, husbands own their wives like property. How in 202o, I escaped because my husband couldn’t breed me, and how, as soon as he couldn’t use me to breed, he threw me out.”
They asked me a few follow up questions and, once I depleted their curiosity, the Armenian man said, “You were in a cult.” The others nodded. I blinked, confused as I processed the word.
I had studied cult religions and practices for nearly two decades. I knew the definitions and the classification. And the inside does not look like the outside.
“You are a warrior,” he said to me.
I nodded.
“Yes, I am.”
“Listen to me,” he said. “You hold your head high. You bow your head to NO ONE. You answer to NO ONE. No one has come as far as you did. No one has done what you have done. No one has overcome more odds than you. You have proven your veneration a thousand times over and then some. You answer to no one.”
I felt those words. I have felt them a million times prior to hearing him say them. But hearing them… It validated my own feelings. It gave me “permission” to finally accept my accomplishment and to finally embrace it.
“What do you do for a living?”
Where once I dreaded this question, I now celebrate it.
“I’m a public speaker and a Coach who teaches others on The Healing Power of Trauma. I am also a traveling Journalist. I am working on a project I call The Subway Journals where I take the train all over NYC, asking random people in New York City, ‘What do you think is wrong with the world today?’ and then I blog about what I learn so I can go on to build The Healing Garden around what they need”
I then asked the man what he thinks is wrong with the world today.
“Morals! People don’t have them anymore! No one has morals!”
I have so much to say on this… He, the retired teacher, the barista, and I all launched into a 3-hour discussion on morals and ethics. There was much said. I need to post a video on it later.
The retired teacher agree. Ethics.
One thing that stood out: The Armenian asked the barista and I, “What is the one thing that, if you lose it, you will never be the same?”
I said, “Hope.”
She said, “Freedom.”
I looked at her wide-eyed. “Wow. Something I value more than freedom. Hope.”
I’ve lived without freedom. Freedom can be taken away too easily. But living without hope… I would not be here today without hope. Hope is something that no one can take away from you. Hope is all mine.