Grand Central Station

Something about films that has annoyed me up until a couple of years ago was the way they would set up a film (actually it happens in books more often). It goes something like this…a tale begins with a micro-story of about something and then we see the major story unfold in the pattern of the micro-story. Have you noticed that, it’s like we are told the outline of the story first and then told the tale. I wonder what that kind of framing is called? In the world of Personal Development, it is actually called that, framing.

My point in mentioning it is that a similar occurence happened to me the other day. I was sat in Grand Central station food court with my girlfriend and we were discussing two topics. The first was the content of the book, The Upside of Irrationality, by Dan Ariely.

I had liked Dan’s earlier predictably Irrational and had purchased his latest offering whilst on the plane journey from the UK to the USA. In his latest book he covers ground that I felt was covered quite well (and better) in other books such as Blink, by that weird hairdo guy, Malcolm Gladwell.

Anyway, the particular topic from both books we were discussing was how people ignore events that they could lend a helping hand to (more about this phenomena in a moment).

The second topic of conversation was the plight of the homeless in New York. Being new to the city I wanted to understand the provisions or lack thereof for homeless people. Indeed I wanted to know why they were homeless at all. Since my girlfriend and I are both life coaches we enjoy discussing and presenting solutions to social and individual issues.

My point of reference was that, in the UK, I had been asked to do a series of talks to homeless people in London. I had done some research around the subject and found that by law the government (actually the council) had to house people if they requested such. In essence, it seemed to me that homelessness was a choice. Of course it is a lot more complicated than that, I confess that I was starting out in my speaking career and was quite naive at the time. Nevertheless I wanted to understand the plight or at least the situation of homelessness in New York.

Our conversation went too and fro until natural urges took over and I looked for the rest room. Let’s call the above the micro-story i.e. the people not helping bit and the homeless situation.

As I walked along the eating booths I saw that in one of them a man had fallen to the floor and was banging his head against the ground. I almost stopped, but then carried on walking. But only for two more steps, then I stopped turned about and went to the guy laying on the floor. I placed one hand under the banging head and the other on top of his arms and chest. I am trained in Reiki and the healing energy flowed right out of both my hands in bucket loads.

As I did this I turned to the assembled crowd of people eating – yes, there were people in the booths opposite who could clearly see the guy on the floor -  and called to them to call some medical person or police officer. Strangely non of them did. My attention went back to the guy and I was focused on getting him in a better state. A few minutes later an assistant from one of the eateries ran over and said the police where on the way. Still a few more minutes later they arrived (all six of them!)  and stood around doing nothing.

By this time the guy (who I guess had been having a seizure or fit) had calmed down enough to be self-empowered and I arose to go about my way. The police called me over to ask me some questions and I obliged…

Do you know this guy? No

Why were you helping him? Because I help people.

Are you a medic? No

What were you doing here? I was eating at the booth next to him and saw that he needed attention when I passed on my way to the rest room.

I was tempted to ask the police person why he hadn’t got on his knees and helped. In honesty in my own country I would have been less docile. I am unfamiliar with the police of America and New York and so held my tongue. In the UK, where I am a believer in the police being Public Servants I would have been giving them a lecture I assure you.

After a several more annoying minutes the officers let me go and I was about to turn my curious attention to the people in the booths opposite when I was reminded of the conversation my girlfriend and I had been having previously.

• Who would help a homeless guy? Although I confess, I couldn’t tell if the guy had a home or not. It’s an ass-u-me ption.
• The SEP field was in effect. Simply stated this is a psychological phenomenon which has been experimentally proved again and again. In such situations as above, people see that there are many other people that can deal with the situation i.e. call for help. Thus they don’t have to do it and so they don’t.

Guy dies whilst people walk by

Given the existence of the SEP field, I often rather sarcastically advise thus. If you are going to get into a situation where you are in need of help, then ensure you do so in a place that is uncrowded with one or two passers-by (preferably one) because if there are more, then you are less likely to be helped.

Don’t believe me? Here is an interesting article from a couple of years ago, set in New York…

He had jumped to the aid of a woman attacked on 144th Street at 88th Road in Jamaica at 5:40 a.m., was stabbed several times in the chest and collapsed as he chased his assailant.

In the wake of the bloodshed, a man came out of a nearby building and chillingly took a cellphone photo of the victim before leaving. And in several instances, pairs of people gawked at Tale-Yax without doing anything.

Later, another man stopped, leaned over and vigorously shook Tale-Yax’s body. After lifting the victim’s head and body to reveal a pool of blood, he also walked off.

Kitty Genovese

In honesty, what would you have done? I nearly walked past the guy myself. Perhaps it was because I had been in a conversation that was about this very same thing that stopped me. I don’t know. I have trained myself to be an interferrer in the lives of others. Perhaps that is what it was.

One thing I hope for is that there isn’t a Tale-Yax on my watch, ever!

Kal Malik

ps… the phenomena described above has been labelled by psychologists as the Kitty Genovese effect after an incident of similar kind had brought some social uproar. Check out the wiki link and also hit the research link on that page to learn more.

Within seconds I was bouncing around in my seat like a, well soft-metal rocker. Music like this has to be pumped up to maximum volume and if possible shared with an audience. As I drove I saw a few youngsters populating a bus stop.

Without thinking I slowed the car down and lowered the window at the same time letting the volume level rise. My euphoria rose significantly when they took the episode to heart and started to rock with Def Leppard. The conclusion of the song was a hearty cheer and exuberant wave.

It made my evening!

Kal Malik

Bank of America

Banks have been getting a bad press lately so I thought I’d post this little tale about a recent experience in a bank. The bank in question was the Bank of America and I had entered its doors in search of exchanging some British pounds to American dollars.

A guy, whose name tag read John (unless stated all names in this blog are made-up, and usually called John) shook my hand and sat me down. I was impressed by this assumed importance. They definitely don’t do that back home. John asked as to the purpose of my visit and I told him that I was in need of turning £ into $. With remarkable efficiency John typed into his computer for a moment and then began to scribble a note to me.

As he scribbled, he explained that the Banks rate of transfer was $1.38 to the £1 with an additional fee of $10 for processing. My smile was fading as I noted that the rate was way lower than I had seen floating on the exchange notice boards. John concluded his summary of the Banks position by sliding over the note.

My assumption was that John had written the details of the transaction upon the paper but what he had really scribbled is this…

A better deal

I looked down at the note and was pleasantly surprised. I smiled at John, who rose and shook my hand again apologising that we couldn’t help you at this time. I thanked him profusely and left the building, heading in the direction given. Some ten minutes later I had secured an exchange rate of $1.49 to the £1 and a fee of $4.5

Thanks John, if I lose my faith in Banks I will always keep it with the Bank employees.

Kal Malik

Inspiring Tale

It was late on Sunday evening and I was out walking along the wharf in Brooklyn pondering which restaurant to go to for dinner. My girlfriend was busy with work so I was out hunting on my own. As I walked along the water front benches I passed by a guy. I took in that he had a paraphernalia of stuff with him such as a duvet (known in the States as a blanket, or so my girlfriend informs me), bin liners with clothes in them (I was assuming). As i passed by him I noted my own judgmental thoughts…homeless…

I wonder, if he did turn out to be homeless, would that still have been a judgemental thought?

Anyway, as I continued my meanderings a tale from earlier on in the day crossed my mind. A friend of mine, Tamara Gerlach, had posted a wonderfully inspiring story about a man who takes to lunch the guy who is mugging him (here is a link to the full story, check it out). With this tale in mind I did a quick about turn and walked back to the guy on the bench.

Excuse me, are you hungry? (I know, a rather daft question, but I had to start the conversation somewhere).

The fella thought the same and laughed at me, rather creakily. “Does a duck quack?” he responded.

A few minutes later we were sharing a huge (and I mean huge Pizza on the very same bench). He (John, was the name he gave) recognised my accent and asked me whether I was on vacation. I responded that I was visiting friends. He asked me what I did and instead of responding, I replied that since I was the guy who bought dinner, he should tell me what he did. He laughed and said it was a cheap price to pay for a meal.

John’s story unfolded in bits and drabs. Not being familiar with the homeless (yes, he was indeed homeless) it was a tale that was keen to the emotions in several ways. Perhaps it is unsurprising if I mention the words, financial downturn, alcohol abuse, mental and physical abuse. These would make the sub-headings of John’s life for the last four years.

Homeless

I was moved by the tale. Of course we hear about the homeless people and (in New York city at least) they are encountered often. But beyond the odd dropping of some change in the box we go about our merry way. When the tale becomes more personal i.e. when you know the name and history (or what little someone will share) then it becomes something that yearns to done something about personally.

Johns tale had lit that spark in me, for John at least. As you may know I am a life-coach by trade and though I held my silence throughout listening to Johns tale of the last few years, my mouth was yearning to expound on the you can achieve anything and it’s all about limiting beliefs pathways to changing your life situation.

If I do say so myself, my intuition is an excellent advisor and pops in often to lend a profound hand. This was no exception. As I sat chewing on my vegetarian end of the pizza it dropped a heart wrenching thought into my mind. As I mentioned above, Johns tale included mental and physical abuse. What I didn’t say was that this part of the story was about him abusing his wife.

John’s business had collapsed due to the economics of 2007/8. As a consequence he had started to drink hard This had led to further financial difficulties and strains in his marriage. “The drink took control of me and I took it out on my wife” After a couple of years of this and no future in sight, she left me. I didn’t blame her, she should’ve left sooner than then, but she was a good woman, in a bad situation. When she left John couldn’t pay his way anymore and joined the homeless. He had tried to get back into the world but the final nail in his coffin was when he learned that his wife had died this time last year. From that point on he was on a steady and unwavering road to his death.

Pizza is quite a comforting food. The squelch as tomatoes mingle with cheese is satisfying in its miss-assumed healthiness combined with obvious junk food appeal. It fits the bill on many levels and leaves one feeling satisfied, particularly with the portion sizes that are rampant in the States. John and I sat silently watching a flock of swans glide along. I was at a loss as to how to continue (or indeed end) the conversation. Life throws us some wierd (curved) balls which we either deal with, leave hanging or drop. I was wondering what to do with this one when, as I said, my intuition dropped in.

“I forgive you”

Honestly, it just popped right out of my mouth, if I believed in such things I might say that something possessed me at that moment and it was through no volition of mine that the words came forth. But my mouth and voice it was.

“What?” John was confused (so was I).

I had no where to go with this conversation since I hadn’t innitiated it, so I stook with my original statement, “I forgive you.” I said again. Let him deal with what it meant.

“How, What?” He was confused and then, even as I think back to the moment now, his face was so amazingly odd, he said, “How can you?”

I was running on intuition alone and guessed “Who else can?” In frankness I didn’t know, for what, for whom or for why I was saying what I was, it just seemed the words to say. It was like a sentence that had to follow the previous one. The meaning of the words wasn’t known.

“Who else can?” I repeated.

John let the words stand for a long while, then his eyes teared up, “No one can now.” He eventually said.

“I can” I really wanted my mouth to keep quiet but it kept spewing these – uncomfortable – words.

“Who are you? How can you? I don’t deserve to be forgiven” Is what he said  (or words to that effect) You may think that he shouted these words, but he hadn’t. They were so quiet that I can’t even repeat them exactly. I intuited them more than heard them.

I pushed the remains of the Pizza (about half was still left) towards him and looked him right in the eyes, my eyes must have been glistening too at this time “I forgive you.” I think that he reached out for me when I got up and left, I’m not too sure. I just knew that it was time to go.

Epilogue

The above event happened a couple of hours ago and I am still wondering what it meant and why I said what I did. I also wonder what John will do and whether it had any effect on him and his life. Such is the wonderful mystery of life. We don’t get to see how the play unfolds for the other person.

Kal Malik

Looking forward to sharing wisdom with you,

Blessings Kal Malik