Downtown Flute

I'm not sure why I like this gentleman so much. I see him at least two times a week at various locations around Downtown San Jose. He's always blowing into his flute, making soft whimsical music while I wait for my trains. Every time I see him—playing the flute. He's become a personal icon, of sorts. In fact, I don't think I would recognize this gentleman without his flute. To me, his flute is very much a part of who he is.

The fact that this man plays the flute is sad. The flute is not a drum nor a guitar. The flute is not easily accessible. This man did not pick up the flute on a whim in order to make money. The fact that this man plays the flute is a reminder that one time, in the past, this man had a life before his transience. Maybe his parents paid for private flute lessons. Maybe he was a concert flautist. Whatever his previous life, unfortunate circumstances have left him to the streets. And in the face of that adversity, this man continues to love his instrument.

I sometimes give some money to the homeless, or, if I only have 20s, I'll give them a piece of gum or something. But I'm no philanthropist.

Oddly enough though, I've never given anything to this flautist. I've selfishly stolen his musical notes and given nothing in return. But maybe there is something deeper at work. Maybe I've been subconsciously avoiding donating to this man. Maybe I don't donate to this musician because he represents a larger concept for me.

Regardless of how one phrases or justifies it, giving money to the homeless establishes a power hierarchy—one person is in a position of power over another. While it might not always be an oppressive power relationship, it is a hierarchy none the less. And perhaps I am unwilling or unable to put myself in a position of power over my flautist icon. This man represents a dignity and chivalry in my life, I do not wish to dethrone that image by patronizing him.

I will never ask him his name. I will never ask him where he's from. Right now, he is the most textured two-dimensional person in my life. He is my archetype of human potential. He is the elegance that can be found in the lowest of forms. I acknowledge it is selfish to hold his unrealistic image in my mind, but that's all I have. All I have are my facades to shield me from my own cynicism.

But doesn't my solipsism and unrealistic image of this man create a power hierarchy even more dangerous than the patronizing power hierarchy? Am I not enslaving this man to be my involuntary emissary of grandeur? Am I not creating an invisible barrier between us every time I listen to him but not thank him for bettering my day?

Is there no solution? Donating money makes him a slave in the physical world. Watching him from afar makes him a slave in my mind. I know, in truth, my life is better with my flautist, but part of me, the nihilist part of me, wishes he or I would disappear, so this seemingly benign confusion would fade away.