In afternoon meditation I think of the sweepers we saw in a video of a Channel 4 documentary. They don’t sweep with a long-handled broom, standing upright like you or I would; they crouch on their haunches, moving among the feet of people, the legs of tables, with a twig broom. They know they will be doing this for the rest of their lives. All they hope for is for their children to have a better chance. I imagine telling them that this is what we’re trying to do. Then I try to imagine and to send well-wishes to the first person whose door I will knock. I keep getting distracted; rehearsing exactly what to say. I think of Bhante. He came to tea with us yesterday; a blessing. I feel so much gratitude to him. I feel my connection with this team and then I realize that we are all connected – The Indian sweeper, the householder I have yet to meet, Bhante, this team. Joy bubbles up and I feel like laughing.
I’m knocking my first door. Jazz floats out of the open window and I’m doing a little shimmy when a skinny dread-locked guy opens the door. He’s interested in third-world charities. He’d like to work for charity. The little kitten behind him is trying to escape. He tells me it’s one of two his wife has rescued. He takes a leaflet and I find out his name is Lance. I talk to nine more people and two more take leaflets. We’ve been told to meet ten altogether. I don’t want to stop but persuade myself to follow the instructions as given..
