Last Saturday, after work, I sat on a bench at the bus stop I needed, put on my headphones, and listened to some Sigur Ros and Explosions in the Sky. Maybe it isn't music for everyone, but on a relatively warm, relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at the end of February in downtown Cowtown, I don't think there is anything better. I usually hate urban areas - it feels so lifeless and inorganic to me, so cold and unmoving, imposing itself where it does not belong. But Saturday was good.
I felt really small then, but in a good way - if that makes any sense. All around were buildings where people who live all around me for miles come and use skills and abilities they've been learning all their lives to do a job that doesn't require them to the exclusion of everyone else with a similar skill set. And all around me were condos, apartments, and less sightly living habitations, where tired people lay down tired heads after another day in the other buildings doing that job that does not need just them among the other qualified people, and while working at this job doing things that seem important each day but lose meaning when you try to describe it to others, maybe they ask questions about who they are, where they are going, if they should have asked her to the prom, if they should have taken up that yoga class, and if betting their savings on the Colts was worth it. OR maybe they think about how thankful they are, living and breathing and enjoying another day of a life deeply lived, thankful for their family and for the way they can provide for them while meeting their own needs for meaning in a job . . . maybe they think about how they are just one pay cheque away from getting their son that bike, or taking their daughter to England, or how it's already 4 and I can't wait to go home and kiss my wife and hug our little 2 year old twins.
Every day, there are so many stories unfolding all around me, and sometimes it blows me away. It makes me feel small, in a good way - if that makes any sense. Usually we seem geared to strive for recognition, the spotlight, attention, our moment, praise. We want to be big. We want to MEAN something - whatever that means.
But being small and being okay with that, getting a glimpse of how you fit into the Bigger Story and liking what you see, well, that's a good thing. To me. And even more wonderful is getting to be a part of another's story, especially if it is a beneficial role.
I want to have my eyes more open to the beauty of the stories left untold in the routine of day to day.
love this. Particularly the 4th paragraph. Love it so much that I'm gonna steal it for birthday cards and stuff like that.
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