Inner peace on Penny Lane

It was the first warm sunny day of the year and I was sitting basking in it.  I was on an old bench in the shop filled area of Liverpool that is generically called ‘Penny Lane’ because it instantly makes the tourists want to go there (The actual Penny Lane is a bit boring really and more a domestic side street).  I had chosen my seat as the better of the two options.  The other would to have been trapped inside an adjacent charity shop standing around like a spare prick at an orgy whilst the woman in my life carefully went through every piece of clothing and every toy or bit of pointless bric-a-brac available in the way that women are genetically hard wired to so do.

I wasn’t completely free of the charity shop, because at random times in my 30 minute wait she would excitedly come out with her latest purchases and show them to me, or get me to hold the bags whilst she dipped back into the shop for more foraging. However, the ‘coming up for air before the next dive’ enthusiasm and excitement was infectious and made me smile.

True, I don’t normally let the dear readers of England’s England into my actual real private life, but today was good and so you’re having an awkward look-see.

At some point I was joined on the bench by what I guess might be called a tramp.  I’m not sure if he was actually homeless.  The fellow had fairly extensive facial injuries, and had obviously been in a fight.  He was ducking in and out of his rucksack for his can of Special Brew.  He’d witnessed some of the excited back-and-forth from the charity shop, but I’d successfully ignored him and ensured my body language said “fuck off”.  However, after some moments of feeling his gaze he broke the silence with an “Excuse me, friend”.

Here we go, I thought. Was it going to be money or a cigarette he was going to try to ‘borrow’ from me?

My response was a disinterested and dismissive, “What?”.  Not that drunken tramps ever normally pick-up on such things, but I really was enjoying just sitting quietly in the sun and didn’t want to have to get up and move away or engage in some drunken rant about anything.  I just wanted to sit there enjoying my space without him invading it.

“Can I ask you two questions?”

I sighed and responded with an annoyed, “What are they then?”

“My first question is what’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you? And my next question is what’s the worst thing?”

Suddenly, instead of feeling inconvenienced and defensive I realised he had pushed my ‘on’ button.  Damn him.  What an interesting random question.  I thought about it for a moment and genuinely considered what the answers might be.  I rapidly thought through my life and focussed on events and then the people.  I considered the very existence of my son which probably has equal importance, but opted to say, “Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me was finding her.”  I gesticulated towards the disappearing back into the charity shop female, “Maybe the worse thing was having to live so much of my life before finally finding her.”

We then engaged in a somewhat philosophical conversation about his life and his failed marriage of 29 years and falling out with his son, and being beaten up by his daughter’s violent partner who he was trying to intervene and stop abusing her.  He talked about how to approach failure and his anger.  I don’t know how much of it was true, maybe none of it, but he appeared genuine and very lost inside his head and his own ability to cope.  For the moment and for the conversation I believed him.  There were a few of the details that didn’t quite ring true, but I didn’t challenge them.  We discussed how I dealt with things, and I found myself trying to genuinely answer questions I’d not really been asked before.

I told him that for various reasons, maybe including finally meeting my absolutely perfect partner and soul mate, I was at peace.

I internalised and worried a bit that this was the kind of thing people say five minutes before they die, which gave me a mild panic as I’m really really not ready to shuffle off this mortal coil into oblivion, but I think I was trying to explain to him that I was content and in reality wanted for nothing.  Yes, I could do with more money, maybe little things were annoyingly unfinished, I could certainly do a good Victor Meldrew about stuff that I didn’t actually really worry about, and maybe I was mentally right to win the Lottery, or at least the latest Channel 5 Gadget Show competition.  (Yum, heaven.  All those toys.  Damn them for never picking me as the winner.)

But realistically I was ok and happy as a person, and a lot of that is down to having the right relationship with the right person to support me and share my life with.  The qualities that such a person has to have are so hard to find as I am an awful person to live with in many different ways, but there she was, there she is.  She makes a difference.  She makes it right.

We discussed finding this inner peace, and I explained that I was lucky to have someone to help me reach it, but that I also did believe that everyone can start the journey on their own, maybe I’d started the journey before I met her.  I said that some might argue that his anger and confusion and hopelessness were blocking his peace.  He had to let it pass.  He had to calm himself and just draw a line and move on and live for tomorrow.  Not that any of that is easy when you are consumed with rage about your life, but it’s the direction you have to go in or you are stuck forever spiralling down or marking time or going round and round in pointless circles trying to find answers that will never be there.

Eventually, with almost all of the charity shop contents having been purchased, it was time to go.  He complimented me to the multiple bag holding woman who was finally ready to puff and pant away from the shop with a, “You have a wonderfully understanding man, you are very lucky.”  Instinctively she replied, “I know. We complete each other.”  That made me feel very good.

I shook the tramp’s hand and said that I hoped he could find his peace and move forward.  He nodded, thanked me for the chat and swigged on his Special Brew.  Who knows what will happen next for him.  For me though, as everything is in fact usually about me, I walked away with what can only be described as complete contentment with this world. Sometimes the oddest and most unexpected things remind you of how lucky you are.

Maybe, just maybe, this is a visualisation of Inner Peace