the man in the skirt

he walked around the grocery store in the affluent community wearing a long, black, gauzy skirt with a white three-quarter-length sleeve top of the same material.

his hair was gray and pulled back into a ponytail. his beard neatly trimmed.

his birkenstocks mixed with pradas and guccis as he navigated around the store, stopping now and then to smell a fresh pineapple or to study a tomato.

to say heads turned was an understatement.

women blocked traffic in the aisles as they stared at this man.

was he wearing a skirt?

men hustled away quickly, worried he was contagious.

is he part of some cult?

no, this soft-spoken man was a yogi. a true guru.

his humble clothes reflected his simple life.

but still one older woman actually tutted in disapproval as he politely asked if she would excuse him as he tried to pass.

tolerance.

do we have it?

tolerance is having an open-mind.

it's seeing a homeless man by the side of the street and reacting with compassion, not with judgment or fear.

tolerance is acceptance.

it's to respect someone of a different religion, not to ostracize him.

tolerance is understanding without fully understanding.

it's loving your sixteen year-old who's dressed head to toe in black and has no other color in her wardrobe.

"you have your way. i have my way. as for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist."  -friedrich nietzsche

he walked to the check-out line. the young clerk greeted him with a genuine smile. 

for the first time since entering the grocery store someone made eye contact with him.

she had a pierced lip and wore heavy black eyeliner.  

more than one or two complaints had been directed to the manager regarding her appearance. but still she did her job flawlessly, always wearing that natural smile. 

she understood the meaning of tolerance.