It was a chilly day on the busy streets of San Francisco. I stood on the corner next to Yerba Buena, thankful for my jacket. As I sang and played my guitar, a beaming toddler dropped a dollar into my guitar case and waddled off with her mom. Masses of people weaved through the crowded sidewalks as I continued to sing. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure standing to the side of me. The man listened intently for a few songs, a soft smile gradually crossing his face. A lingering passerby is usually nothing out of the ordinary when I'm playing, but this spectator was different.

The man was dirty. Hands caked in a light layer of grime hung slacken at the sides of his weathered jeans. The cool wind easily reached his skin through the thin shirt that barely covered his shoulders. He carried a flimsy backpack that looked close to empty. An apple stuck out of one of its side compartments.

I wanted to impress my small audience. I jumped right into my favorite song- “One Love,” a Marley classic. The man grinned and genuine look of happiness crossed his face.

His hand slipped into a pocket and felt around for some money. With no findings, the smile slowly faded as he switched to another pocket. The hand emerged with a coin, but the man was not satisfied. He opened his backpack, still searching. Money in hand, he timidly approached me as I finished the song.

"I am so sorry. This is all I have," the homeless man apologized. He dropped all of his coins into my guitar case. I smiled and thanked him and he went on his way.

Reflecting upon this incident later, I realized that this homeless man had just given up all of the money that he could have used to help himself. Instead, he voluntarily gave it to me simply for playing music. How much begging, saving, and energy had been dedicated to the acquisition of those coins? With practically nothing, he freely gave up everything he had to someone who needed it so much less than he did. This man willingly sacrificed a potential meal or coat so seemingly effortlessly.

Hundreds of people pass by when I street-perform in big cities like San Francisco. Some of them obviously have means, as sometimes visible by their designer attire. Some do not, as proven by the homeless man. What I find fascinating is that the majority of the people who appear to have the most money are usually not the ones who stop to give me even a couple coins. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, the poorest households in America donate about 4% of their income to various charities every year. The wealthiest 5% of the United States on average gives less than half of what those living in poverty do.

Can you imagine seeing a musician on the street and giving them all of the money you have? It's almost unimaginable; but this is what the homeless man did. He willingly deposited everything he had into my guitar case without a second thought. Although the coins may have held little value to him, they now hold the value of selflessness to me. And that is absolutely priceless.