Cherry St. Storage

photo credit: BL1961

On the eve of my 45th birthday, I stop to consider how many times I want to check out of the human race.  The selfishness, the myopia, the steady decline of civility, the increase of stupidity… all of it makes me angry that I have to face it every day.  My weakness, it is, that I prefer solitude to engagement.  I’m working on that, but it doesn’t erase my reasons for wanting to stay away.

That being said, it’s when I look up at the night sky that I realize there is more to life than being human.  There are the millions of species other than homo sapien that call this planet home.  There are the hundreds of miles of ocean depth that have yet to be seen or understood.  There are probably more modalities of life than we can see that are living with us – they may even be laughing silently as we run ourselves to extinction.

But, more than all of that, I look up at night and realize how small it all is in the face to the infinity above.  We are a tiny speck of dust swimming in a  vast particle sea.  We are but fuzz on a single peach in an endless ocean of fruit.  Held against the backdrop of the universe, we do not even cast a shadow.

And, knowing that, the fear and anger this century brings me drops away, if just for a moment.  Because, in the final rinse, it means nothing.  Only I remain, and that’s enough.

photo credit: Edgar Zuniga Jr.

In New York City, it is said that you can always spot a tourist – they’re the ones that are looking up.  True New Yorkers don’t look up, and I think I know why.  There is so much New York City, it’s too much to carry everyday – New Yorkers know that to preserve themselves; they take in what they need to take in.  You look down, you head out, you get to the it you need, and you head home.

And it’s pretty similar in most major cities, including mine – Toronto.  You head out, you look down, you get to work (friend’s place, hangout), you do your thing, and then you head home – head down again ’til you’re through the door.

So, I had to stop and think one afternoon this week, when a flock of pigeons took off in front of me and circled en masse into the air.  I followed them up and found myself looking up in a brilliant afternoon sky – one that I thought I knew, but had obviously neglected.  And it wasn’t just that I was looking at the sky – that motion of lifting my head and looking up had lifted me up and out of myself.  Staring at the sidewalk moments before, I was in my day – frustrated at the frustrations, worried about the worries, laughing at the funny bits, and waiting for quitting time.  Head up and marvelling at the blue and white above me, it suddenly all fell away.  I was released into the freedom of nature, and awed by the breadth and depth of the world surrounding me.  The crises and quibbles that seemed most important were suddenly trivial, and the planet was smiling at me.  And, strangely enough, I felt more of me come alive that moment, then all the self-reflection I had going on moments before.

I do look often at the night sky, staring with hope at the stars above, wondering if I can ever fathom the enormity of it all.  But the day’s sky, neglected no longer – if only to look up and remember that there is more to life than daily human pursuits.  There’s a planet here still welcoming us warmly, and if only to be polite, we should smile back in gratitude.

Here, then, is my wish – now more than ever, when everything and everyone seems to be looking down, literally and figuratively – look up.  You’ll see – to look up is to look out, and to look out is to look in.

Peace.

photo credit: bionicteaching

This week, it’s been hovering around -20C in my city.  Not a great week to be walking outside.  So, it was with distinct pain that I discovered Friday night, steps from my home, after a long week at work, that I had lost my house keys.  They were attached to a carabiner that attached to a belt loop on my pants – well, they were until somewhere along the way home – my face blanched when I reached for them and felt only the cheap metal of the carabiner alone hanging there.

So, freezing already, and an hour late for dinner, I started back – retracing my steps from the front door through the dark snowy night, keeping my eyes peeled – back to the streetcar stop (is that it?!  nope…just a gum wrapper..damn).  I realized when I’d found nothing, I would have to keep going – I wouldn’t be able to face the weekend knowing I hadn’t looked everywhere.  I kept going – my legs started to cramp from the relentless cold wind blowing, and my eyes were watering while I kept scanning the sidewalks.  Back to the subway (25 mins), back through the back alley, past Starbucks, back up to my workplace (2o mins), back to my desk at work – always with quick gulps of anticipation when I spotted something in the slush and gloom, always followed by the deepening crush of misery as it turned out to be a gum wrapper, a cigarette remnant, a beer bottle (what was that doing there) – in short,   nothing.

On the way home, misery became anguish – what was I going to do?  My bike lock key was on that ring, and now my bike would be forever prisoner in the downstairs bike room.  What if I’d gone right past it, rushing because I was cold – maybe I should go back one more time?  What if someone had turned them into a security desk (store front, apartment concierge, hotel bus boy) – I’ d never find them then.  Why was this happening to me on  Friday night, at the start of my weekend?  Why was this happening to me at all?  I sat stewing on the subway back downtown, tired now, and anguish was now turning slowly into tears.  I fought it back with a paranoia that feelings would beget truth – I had to remain hopeful – and I plead a silent plea to the unknown to help me somehow.

Up from the subway back into the cold, I started tracing again – less hopeful, but still determined.  And, suddenly, out of the dark – there they were!  Someone had spotted my keys on the sidewalk and had carefully place them on a window ledge of a drug store.  It was a thin ledge, barely room enough to hold them, and at one of the busiest corners in the city.  I couldn’t believe I’d looked down at the right time in the right place, and now I was holding my hope in my hand.  I was so shocked, so relieved, and so amazed, that I had to look at them more than a few times to believe it.  I wanted to laugh, and cry, and run, and yell my relief!

I had lost my keys – and I had found hope.  Hope that there were people out there that did good things still.  Someone I didn’t know took a second to place my keys somewhere where I’d find them again.  Someone who knew that if they turned them in I wouldn’t find them.  Someone who realized that placing them somewhere close to the ground but out of harm’s way would make the chance of me finding them that much better.  Someone who chose to help, rather than ignore the opportunity, or worse, kick them into the gutter.

So, to that someone out there that found my keys and helped me find them, I say ‘thank you’ from the bottom of my heart.  Whoever you are, I hope you are as blessed as you made me feel with your small act.  And perhaps, if we are all connected in the cosmic ether, I will be able to return the favour someday, some how.  Until then, this is my tribute to you.   Thank you.