5
Rainbow
Love is a strange thing. We go through life believing we love others, and often even telling them so without thinking twice about it. But, do we really love them? Unconditionally, with no strings attached? Or, is it just a word that rolls off of our tongues easily after many years?
I thought about the way I’d treated my family. Did I truly express my love or was I just saying the words? Was it a surprise that my wife left me? Despite the loss of my business and home, was it reasonable to assume she’d stick beside me, or had I deluded myself into thinking I was loved in return? Was I as selfish as she said I was, putting my dreams – my business – ahead of my family?
How many employees did I terminate because I didn’t empathize with what they were feeling or going through in their lives? How could I have truly cared about them if I failed to give them time off they needed to spend with their family or friends?
The thoughts jolted out of my head as Monica briefed me on where to go next, which was the Rainbow room at the end of the hall. I left the red room after hugging her goodbye and thanking her for the moments she’d shared with me.
I stepped out into the hallway, which was plunged into darkness as the red door closed behind me. Again, I heard sounds emanating from outside, just as I had the last time I’d stood there, though this time they seemed much louder than before.
Then I noticed a bluish light that broke the stillness of what appeared to be the end of the hallway. Curious, I carefully made my way down to it and, as I did, the sounds grew in intensity.
The bluish light – and the sounds – were indeed coming from the rainbow room since the door was ajar. I knocked twice nonetheless, but received no answer. Conjuring up a bit of audacity, I entered the room, not knowing what to expect.
The room, lit up by winter sun through uncovered windows, was laid out similarly to the other rooms. Yes – there was another ladder – as well as a table with boxes on it – that I presumed were the Beans. However, at that moment I was more interested in what was going on outside than what the room looked like.
I inched closer to the windows to peek. What I discovered was something I wouldn’t have believed just a short time ago.
Workers – dozens of them – were decorating the trees with Christmas lights. Others appeared to be preparing the street for some kind of event. After observing for several moments, I found myself asking a dangerous question – could this really be happening? Are kids really going to come here for the magic Beans?
“What do you think?”
I just about hit the ceiling when I heard the voice behind my right shoulder. I quickly turned around and, undoubtedly, wore a look of terror. For the first time during the entire day, I experienced real fear. Not the kind of fear I’d already felt – of the unknown – but this time, of being in danger.
“My name is Singh. Good to meet you, Joe.”
Singh was everything that I resented in my business – and life. I couldn’t tell you what ethnic group he came from, but that wouldn’t matter. Suffice it to say, he wore a turban on his head and spoke with an accent – and you can probably guess the rest.
Singh was also the first stranger I encountered in the building, so far, and it definitely lent itself to a bad feeling. I probably made matters worse by refusing to shake the man’s hand.
“Hello,” I said stiffly. “What’s a guy like you doing here?”
“You mean someone wearing a turban?” Singh chuckled. “My dear friend, you think people like you are the only ones to celebrate Christmas? Christmas is a state of mind. It’s a way of living, 365 days a year. My sons may not have the Santa Claus your sons have or the Christmas tree your sons have, but I can assure you that the spirit definitely lives inside my boys.”
Singh turned towards me with what appeared to be an evil eye.
“Can you say the same?”
Of course, it was a question I couldn’t answer in the affirmative.
“Look at that,” Singh remarked as he gazed out the window alongside me. “It’s amazing what people can accomplish when they work together.”
“Yeah, all we need is snow to make it a perfect day,” I added sarcastically.
“Of course there’ll be snow – that isn’t a question,” Singh chastised. “The higher power never lets the children down.”
“Have you ever thought of how many races, religions, and ethnicities there are in the world?” Singh continued. “It is pretty remarkable that we get along.”
“That’s just it – we don’t,” I shot back. “You should know that better than anyone.”
“Sounds like you have a little anger in you, my friend.”
“Anger? How about rage?” I vehemently went off on Singh. “Constantly complaining about my food? Cutting prices to put me out of business? Not only did you wreck my life, you are wrecking the entire country.”
“I wrecked your life and the country? I didn’t know I was so powerful!” Singh mocked.
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, you mean people like me – people who are different. You mean because I wear a turban I am one of those people who go around creating trouble for everyone, correct?”
“My friend, you went out of business because you failed as a business owner – no other reason,” Singh coldly preached. “As far as your country, well – I would look to your leaders for that one. However, we will deal with your anger later. But, for now, we have work to do.”
“Yeah, I figured that when I saw the ladder,” I added sadly.
I suddenly understood why the hallway was dark all this time. It was waiting for me to come along and hang up the Christmas lights!
Singh guided me to boxes – totes really – that were stacked in a corner of the room. He instructed me to empty each one to prepare for hanging the lights and putting up the Christmas tree.
One by one I opened the totes – while my eyes teared up – I was overcome with emotion. Memories of putting up my own Christmas tree and lights with my family – with my little boys – flooded my head.
I wondered how the tree looked this year and just how much joy I was missing? Who hung the Christmas lights – was there another man? I wondered how many gifts – if any – were under the tree and how excited my boys would be.
I encountered many items that I normally wouldn’t call ornaments – in my world at least. Old children’s shoes, small candles, pieces of straw, shafts of wheat and little gnome statues.
The lights were the traditional string ones that I was accustomed to, although these were multi-colored lights rather than the all white ones I’d hung at home.
The room became aglow when Singh turned on the overhead hallway lights so we could work. It’s amazing what light – or awareness – can do to one’s perception. The first place that I’d encountered when entering the building – that had me deathly afraid because of the unknown – was no longer a threat at all, and now appeared to be no more than just a long hallway one might find in a public school.
There was also an alcove with a mirror near the front door. I later learned that it would house the Christmas tree, to welcome the children as they arrived.
I stepped onto the ladder and began to hang the lights as instructed – and something amazing happened that hadn’t happened for as long as I could remember – I found myself whistling as I worked. I smiled when I realized it; even though I was now homeless, I could once again enjoy the Christmas season.
Singh plunged the hallway into darkness by turning off the overhead lights. Within seconds, however, the Christmas lights switched on and illuminated the hallway with a beautiful, festive feeling. It was amazing – dozens of colored strands of light danced above my head.
For one bright moment, as I lost myself in the vivid, heavenly delight, I could have been the richest man anywhere in the world.
Singh stood near me under the lights and admired the work.
“You did a very nice job, my friend. Now, let’s see what you can do with the Christmas tree. You’ll find the body and the branches near the alcove where you should build it.”
When I reached the alcove I knew something was wrong. It was the most ridiculous thing – there was no tree – there were no branches. Instead I discovered a pile of stainless steel rods and what looked to be like – shelves?
“Singh – what gives? This looks like it’s meant for an office supply store.”
Singh sighed and reluctantly made his way to the alcove where he slapped the rods together in an abrupt manner. Soon he had the tree looking like a giant tripod and he quickly placed the shelves into it.
“Obviously, you’ve done this before.”
Singh had trouble snapping a few of the shelves in place, but finally did so after a brief struggle.
“There – now all you have to do is put the ornaments and decorations on the shelves.”
“That’s a Christmas tree?” I questioned in disbelief. “It looks like something one would use as a plant holder.”
“Yes, it’s a Christmas tree – just not your definition of a Christmas tree.”
I decorated the “tree” as directed and stepped back to admire my work, which actually didn’t look too bad. There were six shelves, including the one at the very top. The ornaments that had looked so strange when taken out of the totes really didn’t seem out of place on the shelves. In fact, I kind of liked the look!
I bent down to pick up the remaining ornaments that didn’t fit on the tree and caught my reflection in the mirror as I stood back up. It was then that I saw Singh standing behind me. This made me feel uneasy even though I knew he represented no danger.
“For your cleansing, Joe” he nearly whispered as he handed me the rainbow colored box.
I deliberately chewed the rainbow colored Bean that I found inside the box. I noticed I was much calmer this time, maybe because I’d already been through the process twice before.
“What do you feel?” Singh asked.
I didn’t answer Singh right away because I couldn’t articulate what I felt in that moment, though I was sure I’d never felt it before. My body began to tremble and it seemed that my involuntary nervous system was losing control.
I opened my eyes, looked into the mirror and was stunned by what I saw. I stretched out my arms – like in the famous Da Vinci drawing of the Vitruvian Man. I felt a radiance that I’d never before experienced. I saw myself like a human prism, my body cast off a spectrum of light as the Christmas lights behind me seemed to shoot from my body. I know this sounds crazy – but it was as if all of the negative energy was draining from me – leaving an empty void to fill with goodness and purpose.
“I just want acceptance.”
“The third Bean of Wisdom is the Rainbow Bean of Tolerance. Life without tolerance – is no life at all. Everything that allows us to function in the world with others comes from tolerance – our acceptance of others’ opinions, the way we value our differences and the patience we show for our loved ones.”
“But maybe even more important is acceptance of and tolerance for ourselves – for our own failures and shortcomings. It’s impossible to hear your own inner voice if you’re continually filled with anger – or rage.”
“Look at this Christmas tree,” Singh pointed out. “You saw it as nothing more than a plant holder, but another person sees it for its beauty – as a representation of their holiday’s greater meaning. The straw and wheat ornaments that you saw as ridiculous, another sees as sacred – even as symbols of abundance and prosperity.”
“Look at the lights above. Notice how the blue works with the green, and the green works with the red and the red works with the white. Each bulb – each color – is important to the overall effect of its beauty.”
I stood mesmerized as Singh spoke. It was hard not to admire him since his words were so passionate – and so wise.
“As a great leader you have to remember that everyone is important,” Singh continued. “Your subordinate wants to shine, just like that blue light. Your superior wants to shine, just like that green light. Your loved ones want to shine, just like that red light. No matter what race, color, creed, age or sex.”
“No child enters this world without tolerance. You didn’t enter this world fearing men wearing turbans,” Singh lectured. “It is man who causes our difficulty to practice tolerance – because of our conditioning. We learn to hate certain groups or people based on what they said or did, or on how we were raised.”
I went off into the Rainbow room to finish putting away the totes and reflect on what I’d just experienced. Everything suddenly seemed so clear that it puzzled me why I hadn’t originally thought like this. Did my restaurants fail because I was a bad businessman as Singh said? Did my own beliefs doom me to failure?
I wondered how things might have been had I always hired the best job candidate rather than allowing my prejudices to cloud my judgment. How many good people did I turn down that might’ve made a difference? How many of my employees never offered a brilliant idea because they knew I would never listen to it?
It made me feel somber to realize that I was the one responsible for the results of my life, and that I had been the one sabotaging myself. However, it was also liberating – because if I was honestly responsible for those negative results, then I was also empowered to create results that were more positive, and that was a thought I could embrace.
“The third Bean of Wisdom is the Bean of Tolerance. Everything that allows us to function in the world with others comes from tolerance – our acceptance of others’ opinions, the way we value our differences and the patience we show for our loved ones.”