how’s your day going today?

And yet, there must be something more. 

If there were only the cold calculus of the Uberverse and the boiling frenzy of the lava highway, I don’t think my experience with Zara could have occurred. So what else is there? What is that something more? 

It begins with Uber’s inability to do business without putting two human beings in a car together. And thus arises a choice—a choice for me and a choice for you, my reader and potential rider.

We could roll through the ride, passive, numb, and silent, as though alone. 

Or we could accept the opportunity to feel the undulating fabric of the universe, in which we are but swatches, bringing us together and buoying us above the chaotic fray.

For we contain each other, you and I, so that in these minutes together, we can make a quiet eye in the mad gyre and notice the preciousness of one another. 

We can see the little ride we share as a tiny segment in the Big Ride we are sharing—through the cosmos. Though we are on the move—to your destination, to a better place or time—we can bring our attention to this moment, this ride, this slice in the endless transition that carries us from birth to death.

For my part, when I accept this opportunity, I see in your eyes the light of a thousand suns, and in your words I hear an angel song, and I fall like a child in wonder and love with you, each of you, and with our tender, fragile, flickering beauty.

So, how might we do it? How might we accept this opportunity? How might we steward this precious chance—as Zara might put it—to see and be seen?

I once asked my Zen teacher if there was a special way to carry a Buddha statue.

“No,” she replied, pausing for a breath before concluding, “with your full attention.”

I think that is a good way to carry anything precious. I think it is a good way to see the preciousness in anything. And so, I carry the ride with my full attention. 

I clean the car. I fill the tank. I check my mirrors. I fasten my seatbelt. I turn the key. I press my thumb to the black Uber icon on my phone screen and then on the blue circle labeled with the word “Go.” I go.

When the first ride request appears, I tap my finger against the little black “UberX” rectangle that signifies I accept the request. With my full attention, I accept the request: your request, the algorithm’s request, the request that is a ripple in the universal fabric bringing two distant swatches together.

I move the gear shift to “D” and my right foot from the brake to the gas pedal, depressing it slightly. I steer out of my parking lot, enjoying the black-and-white clarity of the Uber GPS navigation leading me to you. I watch the cars in front of me rolling along. I eye the mirrors and note what is to either side and what is behind. 

I watch the sidewalks, buildings, fields, trees, and distant hills, rivers, pounds, and mountains slide past. I watch the seasons turn, the earth turn. I watch third-shift workers trudge out at dawn; students parade across campuses, nurses shuffle out of hospitals and clinics, and teens giddy like colts, laughing as they tumble out of the mall. 

I come to you. Maybe you are still inside your dwelling or workplace. Maybe you are waiting for an orderly to wheel you to the patient pickup spot. Or maybe I see you already standing by the curb, eyeing my progress on your phone and then double-checking my license plate as I roll to a stop. You might be afraid, I know. I’m aware of the risks you’re taking. You open the door, usually with a querying look. Here is what you will find.

I will turn and say your name as a question. You will answer yes. I will say, “Hi! I’m Santiago. It’s nice to meet you!” 

Once you’ve settled in, I will turn, look you in the eyes, and say, “Welcome to the car. There is a phone charger in front of you. And water right here. To your left, in that green box, there are candies and poems I’ve printed out and laminated. No, I did not write them myself. I just like them. Please feel free to take any that inspire you or that might inspire someone you know. Next to the poems is a notebook along with some markers. Passengers sometimes leave messages for future passengers. Please feel free to browse through it and if something strikes a chord and you feel inspired, please  add a note or drawing of your own. And, of course, you can ignore all of this and just sit back and relax.”

You may look at me surprised, maybe nod, maybe a little tension will release into a slight smile. 

Then I will turn back to the road, put the car in gear, find you in the rearview mirror, and ask, as we begin to share our ride: “How is your day going today?”

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