We had already given him what spare change we had. He reeked
of alcohol. There was no doubt where the change would go.
Jeremie and I smiled, wished him well and headed down the sidewalk.
The man held up a filthy hand. "Wait a minute," he
slurred, "I wanted to show you something."
"We're really in a hurry," Jeremie laughed.
We weren't. Jeremie grabbed my hand and we turned again to go.
"Just WAIT a minute!" the man commanded.
He was no longer swaying, no longer shuffling. He stood still
and straight, eyes clear, looking at me. No. Into me. "I'm
Daniel," he said.
"Hello, Daniel," we murmured.
"Give me your hand," he said. Jeremie
laughed again and put out his hand. Daniel regarded him for a
"No, you," Daniel decided, turning back
to me. "The other one," he protested as I put out my
right hand. "Don't be afraid," he said, touching his
right palm to my left.
Instantly, I recognized the touch of one who knows
something of energy; how to move it, control it, feel it. My defenses
instantly went up; I thought he was somehow taking my energy to
feed himself. I didn't back away, but he felt my fear.
"I'm not taking," he said, "I'm giving.
Don't be afraid of this. Trust yourself."
If I had the skills of an artist, and could draw
what I felt as I lowered my defenses for just a moment, there
would be light, blue and white and calming and good, pouring from
his hand into my own. There was peace in that touch, and wisdom,
and the promise of self-knowledge.
I looked at Daniel, saw his eyes closed in deep
concentration, then saw him open them, stagger slightly and catch
his breath. He looked intently at Jeremie.
"Did you see it?" Daniel asked.
Jeremie looked at me, then at Daniel, then confessed
that he had not.
Daniel turned to me. "Did you?" he asked.
My hand was still warm and crackling with energy.
"Yes," I answered. "I did. Thank
Daniel laughed. "I'd give it to you,"
he told Jeremie, "except I'm far too tired. But what you
have now is transferrable," he said to me. "You can
give it to anyone. Share it."
And he turned away from us, a drunk once more, and
staggered toward another passerby to seek some change.