A Celebration of Connie, Part I

Some time ago, my dear wife, Connie Diana Rotsios Jacobson wrote several articles for a newsletter, ofmanandspirit, she and I had published to a small circle of followers of my work as a medium for spirit (1980–1995). Well, the years have passed and while sorting through old file boxes I happened upon two of those articles.

I began to skim-read. Captured by her personal vulnerability, I slowed down. Poignant. Heartfelt. She rang a bell or two for me, to be sure. I loved it.

For me, this is a beautiful teaching given vibrancy in the here and now, the grit of everyday living. Here is the grace, the soulful elegance of Connie.

Kindness and Truth

by Connie Jacobson

“I am more certain of what is kind than I am of what is true.” ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

The first time I read this quote it soothed my solar plexus. I felt an oddly wonderful sense of relief. It meant I don’t always have to know or say what is true, if only I can remain kind. Of course that is only one of my interpretations of it. I don’t know in what context it was said and quoted.

In its simplest form I feel it to be, for myself, a cautionary quote … urging me to remember that being ‘right’ or speaking my ‘truth,’ even knowing what is true or factual, in my world, does not trump kindness to another. And if I have to go for one or the other, I’ll take kindness over truth. But I would rather combine both.

There are of course thousands of scenarios that give rise to the question of kindness vs. truth, all wedged somewhere between brief everyday encounters and the extremes of full-on war. And any minute of any day presents a potential test of what is kind vs. what is true, or a test of what can hold both of them at the same time. The two can certainly meet each other eye-to-eye and face-to-face. Or not. I experienced an ‘or no’ last week, and caught myself off my own guard.

On this particular morning, I was rounding the corner of my workplace — a corner convenient to individuals asking for money, for food, for bus fare, or to help them survive their homelessness. Most of the time I do not carry cash in my purse, but I usually have some coins, sometimes a little cash.

I was immediately approached by a man who could have been anywhere in his mid 30’s to mid 50’s … it’s hard to tell when someone looks sad and desperate. I told him I was sorry but that I don’t carry cash with me. I did look him in the eyes, face to face, but what I said was not true that day. (What was I avoiding?) He countered plaintively, “Any little bit would help!” (He had the saddest eyes and I did not feel threatened or pushed.)

“Well I might be able to find some quarters in here somewhere,” as I rummaged through my purse. I found three. But while I was looking for the quarters, he’s saying that “just five or ten dollars would help me get to a shelter.” He was just finishing that suggestion at the moment I pulled out the three quarters and held them out to him. He looked at me and said, incredulously, “That’s it?!”

I felt spiritually slapped — and I wasn’t in such a great mood that morning anyway. I was feeling out of sorts and off-kilter. I pulled my hand back and pouted, “I’m sorry … never mind then.” He turned contrite and mumbled “no, no, I’ll take it ….” So I gave him my miserly three quarters. But something inside me snapped a little, and I felt a lump in my throat.

I was hurt and angry that my small gesture of kindness (though tainted for me by my initial lie) was so blatantly spurned at first. I was actually trembling a bit. I shook my finger (rather gently) at him in frustration and said, “You know, you’d better be careful … someday someone might really get angry at you for getting angry at them because they can’t do as much for you as they’ like to.”

He seemed nervous that I was upset and tried vaguely to reassure me, but I had almost started to cry, so I turned to leave and waved him off. I knew that what was ‘true’ for me in that moment was that I had not remained ‘kind.’ And I knew that I had let my own vulnerability trump his vulnerability … the very thing I felt compassion for in the first place.

If I see him again, I don’t know if I will give him money, but I will be kind. I am so grateful for all that I have in my life … an amazing husband I love. An apartment home I love. A decent job. Children and grandchildren I adore. Family I love and love me. Friends. Hope, Creativity. Choice. And a larger picture of life on earth and of Spirit that sustains me throughout.

But I miss my parents who were unwavering anchors of love and home for me, despite their own life lessons. They are in spirit now and have been for several years. And yet I still have moments and days when, like a child, I doubt myself and am still discovering my ways of being loving and wanting to be loved.

So I could tell this person — if I see him again — that I myself was feeling just a little bit ‘homeless’ in my heart that morning. And, I’m sorry.

I hope he will feel it as both kind and true.

Love, Connie

I will publish Connie’s second article soon, as Part II of “She Speaks ….”