Ordinary Lives

Fritz Eichenberg was one of the great graphic artists of the twentieth century. His masterpieces are on a par with those of Rembrandt and Durer, both in terms of quality and subject matter. Born a Jew in Germany, he witnessed firsthand the ominous devouring of his homeland by the Nazis. So, he moved to New York, where he was able to further develop his extraordinary artistic talents. Later he became a Quaker. So, his works reflect Biblical themes, and also fantasy and social satire, among others. Now “The Catholic Worker”, a non-profit magazine published in New York City, holds the rights to many of his marvelous prints. So on fortunate occasions Fritz’s work can still impress the hearts and minds of the public.

One piece in particular stands out in my mind because of its simplicity and profound message. The scene is a queue of men in a bread line. Everyone is poor, wearing threadbare clothes with patches and shoes with holes. The men are hardworking, obvious from their huge, gnarled hands and bulging muscles. Each has his head lowered, as if exhausted and humbled to receive the meager meal about to be given to them.

In that line of bedraggled men is one who is just like all the others except for one silent, yet salient feature. He glows. And that soft radiant light reflects on the faces and backs of the weary men surrounding him. Somehow that humble man brings a sense of peace, stillness, and reassurance to the entire scene.

That Christ image is similar to the Buddhist tenth Ox Herding picture. In that image the Enlightened One, after seeking far and wide and finally finding his inner truth, returns to ordinary life, as an ordinary human being. He is no one out of the ordinary, yet wherever he walks, flowers bloom.

So often these days I see beaming smiles and energetic pride in people who are out to do good in the world. With resolve and purpose they step forth with dreams and ideals to “make the world a better place”. Such idealism is beautiful, necessary, and even crucial in this war-torn world-weary era. But so often it seems the egos of those who wish to do good are so strong and solid, so present that they broadcast themselves more than their mission. That focus on themselves and on how much they are contributing often overshadows the deep, fundamental work that is crying to be realized.

When ideals are faced with the push and pull of reality, and when dreams are shattered by the bickering, defensiveness, and rigidity of people, who keeps the world going? (1) Who is resilient, flexible, and strong enough to keep the world from falling apart? Perhaps it is the ordinary people who “glow” and “allow flowers to bloom” who are the net, the foundation upon which the rest of us stand.

The ones who are “unseen, unheard, yet truly there” (2) just might be the saviors we most rely on --- without even realizing it. For example, the grandmother who day in and day out cooks special meals for her hypo-allergic granddaughter; the postman who knocks on the door at 8 pm, filled with apologies as he hands over a package his co-worker neglected to deliver; the nurse who sits for hours at the bedside of a frightened, confused old man; the people on the cleaning crew who scrub toilets and wash hair-filled filthy sinks day after day; the single mother who somehow holds the family together despite her meager salary or stays up all night with her colicky child and then faces a full day of work; the absent father who calls his kids lovingly every night; the below-average student who never misses a day of school; the average family that manages to stay in tact and in communication through the tumultuous teenage years. The list goes on and on.

The simple things, the ordinary things done by people you and I both know, maybe that is what holds the world together and gives it a sense of cohesiveness and security.

One such ordinary person living an ordinary life is Takuma Sato. He owns and runs a postage-stamp size Indian restaurant in the town were I live. Having his own restaurant was a dream of his for a long time, and was in the making for many years. From the time he was small, Takuma loved baking. Even as a kid, he made cakes and pies, cookies and sweets. He also liked making meals for his family and trying out new dishes on his friends. He always thought about new recipes and how to make them more healthful – tofu instead of eggs in his puddings, for example, and pure ingredients with no preservatives at all.

Takuma knew he needed more experience and money before he could realize his dream of opening his own restaurant. But rather than go to a conventional cooking school, he headed off to India to learn how to make savory curries firsthand. He did not confine himself to one place, but traveled about, gleaning secrets and skills that he could later adapt to the Japanese palate. He ended up staying four years in India, and came home with confidence in his future profession.

However he still needed money. So, he got a job as a construction worker. That entailed hard work, but the reward of good pay. He drove huge cranes and road equipment, hauled heavy loads, precariously balanced on cross beams, and poured cement. All the while he was thinking about cream puffs and chocolate mousse or a new recipe for vegetable curry!

As a construction worker, Takuma dressed to fit the role. In his time off he wore jeans with chains hanging out of the pockets and heavy leather boots. But even so, his gentle nature seeped through his tough outer image.

After he had amassed enough capital, he opened a small, harmonious restaurant, called Patchakali (3), where he now makes delicious, delicate curries. The place is simple, warm and friendly. It truly reflects the refinement and values of its chef and owner. In fact, when you go there, it feels as if you are entering Takuma’s home because of the peaceful space he has created there.

Over the years this teeny restaurant has been the place where simple, often unplanned things happen: friends have started to meet there on a weekly basis; someone gives a planned or spontaneous concert; a stranger who shyly slips in is welcomed by all; guests bring photos or paintings to decorate the walls or books for others to read. Takuma’s smile, food, and quiet presence make many magical things happen naturally and graciously, day after day, after ordinary day. So, it is easy to see that Takuma is “just” an ordinary man, like so many others. around whom flowers almost inconspicuously, yet ceaselessly, bloom.

(1) Lost dreams can cause untold damage. Nobel Prize winning Turkish author Orhan Pamuk in his novel called “The New Life” stated that “When Doctor Fine realized he could not save our lost souls . . . he had resorted to terrorism.”

(2) “A Course in Miracles”

(3) “Patchakali” means vegetable in the Indian Kerala language