Dance of Ciprahn

Chapter Four

It took her eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness. Inside she found a smiling driver whose pearly whites contrasted starkly against his sun-bronzed skin. He has kind, green eyes and hair cut so short he looked nearly bald. He had an other-worldly grace and atmosphere about him. A messianic, ephemeral majesty seemed to ooze from him, like some sort of angel or divine consort. He smiles brightly and offers simple greetings. "Ah, I am Zinn, pleased to meet your acquaintance." Cassandrah sucked in her breath, pauses momentarily, then gets in the car.  A crumpled candy wrapper lay sprawled on the dash, and an unidentifiable bobblehead nodded in greeting. Still vaguely aware that this was a dream Cass decides to make the most of it. Not the greatest of conversationalists with individuals she just met, she licks her dry cracked lips and offers, "So, Zinn right? How was your day?" 

Zinn flashes her his million dollar smile and his eyes twinkle in good humor. She can't quite place where he is from. He has a slight accent which he hides well. Perhaps from Jordan? "It was pretty good. Can't say I'm a fan of this cold, however." As if in response a clump of ice crunches under the tire with a clamorous THUD. Cass becomes engrossed in her surroundings and slowly forgets this isn't reality. Everything seems so normal, just like another day in her typical droll existence. Trees whiz by and the typical traffic scenery was at hand. Zinn stops at a red light. The sun is beginning to set and the crimson burst of flame and afterglow contrasts against the dark purple of the sky and clouds. Cloud edges burn a bright orange as the dying light catches it, and illuminates the jet trails of passing airplanes making it look like some celestial cat has lost its temper and slashed at the sky with its claws, leaving a burning claw mark. 

The temperature cools further. Cass shivers through her layers. Wanting to make the most of her ride she ventures to continue the conversation. "So how long have you been driving with the company?" she inquires. "This is my second day." "Oh," answers Cass, a little surprised. Zinn continues," I didn't really want to drive this morning. It was so icy!" Indeed it was. In fact that very morning she had eaten it on the ice and decided to use a Lyft as well. Luckily it was Martin Luther King Jr. day (although she still had to work, in return she got the day before Christmas off), so the roads weren't as catastrophic as they might have been. For sure, that would have been awful if it were a normal traffic day (which are awful), especially with the slippery death-ice roads! Even so, she was still a little late. He goes on to explain that he had to drive as a cab driver because he has lost a bet with friends. They were playing darts and the loser had to do it for three weeks. Zinn is actually a really smart guy, he is working on his master's degree and dreams of one day getting a Ph.D. and becoming a professor. 

He got into investment banking somehow and while the money has good it was kind of killing his soul and he got out. Now he spent his days helping the homeless and the down-and-out. Cass envies that. She is stuck as a staff accountant at her company (even though she studied marketing) and she really did not enjoy her job. It was so monotonous and boring she found it hard to focus. It was very difficult for her to get out of bed every morning, not only because she wasn't a morning person, but because she dreads the day ahead. At lunch she would microwave her food, sprint to her car scarfing it down along the way and use every spare second to sleep in her car. Every moment carefully focusing on pretending she wasn't at work but was somewhere else. By way of contrast, Zinn was positively brimming with life and good humor. His laughter was deep and infectious. His small pot belly would jiggle with merriment when he laughed and he had a glow. Cass is a little jealous of how happy he is. 

"You know," Zinn began, "I was making a lot of money at that investment banking place, and by and large I was 'successful' by the world's standards. But I wasn't happy. Nothing I did really mattered, it didn't really impact humanity for the better. I was just a cog in the machine. I just made the rich richer. I wasn't really helping anybody." He pauses, green eyes deep in thought. "I decided to give all that up." He glances quickly at Cass, and grins with good nature, his face lighting up. "I help people now. I'm a project coordinator for a program that assists the homeless and helps those fighting addiction." Zinn reflects on that and holds his silence as he checks the navigation system and surveys the traffic. It's amazing how one chance encounter, one seemingly benign interaction can change your whole life. Looking back from years in the future, at how that one comment or conversation radically changed everything. 

That encouraging aunt who praised your crayon-scrawled mess that passed as art, that made you want to be an artist. That bald cheerful humanities teacher who wrote on a puke-green sticky-note "This is wonderful! Do NOT stop writing!" That pretty girl/handsome guy who praised your musicianship, even though you just thought she/he was just being nice. Blessed are those who have the enlightened eyes to remember those chance encounters, and marvel at the ordered chaos of life, and the magic of it all. To taste on the tip of your tongue that hey, maybe there's some meaning to it all, maybe it's all connected somehow. I don't know how, but at times these seemingly sublime and divinely orchestrated moments hint at the bigger picture. And it is exhilarating, mysterious, and a little confusing. Who encouraged Einstein to study mathematics or Vivaldi music? Who taught Homer to write poetry, or Michael Jordan to fly on unseen wings, crushing the competition? It was those individuals, ignorant of their own impact, offering praise and edification that they have quickly forgotten about, but had limitless impact. 

Slowly this process was unfurling for Cass herself. Intrigued at how Zinn had the courage to leave his safe but unfulfilling job to pursue his passion, the Promethean seeds have been planted and inspiration was springing them to bud. The spring glow of wonderment began to thaw the ice cold frost of loss and hopelessness. Maybe it wasn't too late for her after all. She could perhaps turn it all around, and salvage something of her trainwreck of a life. Deep in her brain, the gears are grinding, the little black-eyed hamster dashing madly at his wheel. "I love humanity," Zinn broke the silence. A sudden intense light came into his eyes. "They have such stories to tell." "I was sat with a homeless man. Pete, his name was. 

We talked for hours..." "I asked him about his life. What his story was. What an amazing and tragic life he had. And I would have never known. I would have never known if I had just driven on by." A flash of sorrow flashes across his face and was gone in an instant, like a ripple in the water or wave in the wheatgrass, bestirred by a gentle breeze. Then Zinn turns. He faces Cass with a sad harrowing look in this eyes. "And he wept. Pete cried like a newborn babe. He was a big guy, with a huge bushy beard and tattoos." "And he cried. Suddenly, he took my right hand in both of his hands..." "'Thank you' he said. 'Thank you for talking with me. Thank you for listening to me.' Genuine gratitude and appreciation in his old sad eyes." Pete continued "I've been standing out here for years. And no one has even asked me my name..."