Synchronicities in September
Many of my posts on all my blogs are things I wrote a while ago. I am constantly writing new material, but if I can let it abide for a few months and go back to it, I have a better idea of its worth. This post is about an extraodinary day in September 2005.
Yesterday I asked the universe to send me something new, a sign, not really, but an indication that I was human, that I made a difference -- it's impossible to say what I wanted, not really validation, just something, you know?
So shortly after, I stopped at an intersection in a residential neighborhood, Northeast 30th and Everett, I think. On my left, a man carrying a black and white violin case came walking out of a house, looking purposeful. On the right, a Sikh came walking in my direction. He was smiling. Neither is unusual in itself; plenty of people play the violin and plenty of people are Sikhs. But the incongruity of both at once was startling.
So the universe had spoken. Yet it wasn't finished. Today, I took a walk at my lunch break (close on to 8 p.m.) and as I increasingly do, I tried to walk with no destination. Dusk was just over and the air was clear. The light had that improbable definition that seemed like an expensively shot movie. Everything was fine and polished. I wondered how people could think downtown was failing on a night like this.
My footsteps (I walk carefully now, slowly and deliberately, on the third week anniversary of falling and cracking my elbow) take me, in slow time, downhill toward the Pioneer Courthouse and Pioneer Place. I figure I can take the bus back to work -- buses being free in the downtown area and still running pretty regularly at 8 p.m. I notice many things -- the lines of buildings against an achingly indigo sky, the drooping larch on the courthouse lawn, the blue lights on the shopping center, the witch sitting on the bus bench. She was in full regalia -- the pointed hat, the cloak, both lined with pink-purple fur or feathers. I didn't want to stare -- that was what such an outfit called for and I wouldn't do it -- but I did notice she had eyeglasses and was smoking a cigarette. She also had black netted stockings and spiky heeled shoes. Her companion had a guitar.
Was it just a costume? Halloween is still a month away, and nobody with her was costumed. It was a small group, two or three. No, she was either the genuine article or some sort of performance artist. I considered going up and asking her, but really -- what if she was a witch? Could she curse me for getting in her face? Best to let some things lie.
And so I took the bus back to Broadway and Columbia, near my work. The universe wasn't done with me, oh, no. As I got off the bus, a bent-over old Asian man approached me. "Can you help me?" he asked in a heavy accent. I saw that he had a piece of paper and was sure he was going to ask about an address. But on the paper, in pencil, was written "olive oil." Yes, I told him, I knew what that was.
He pointed to another line: "extra virgin" and a third: "extra light." Which one should he cook with? I told him I'd prefer the extra virgin. He said he had tried both but that the extra virgin was "too black," meaning darker. Well yes, I said, but it was of better quality. He thanked me for helping with his cooking and set off in the direction of the Safeway.
Southwest Broadway and Columbia. This was the same intersection where by chance I had encountered the East Indian who was looking for Swagat restaurant and I was able to give him the exact location and directions -- NW 21st and Lovejoy. He was looking for 7th Street, probably because the address was in the 700s of 21st, and would have been totally lost without advice.
I've also been asked for help by German tourists, and a couple of people have wanted to know whether the DMV is close by (it is). There must be something to the intersection of Broadway and Columbia. Perhaps some day, I'll sit on the seat of my walker by the bus stop with a sign that reads, "Your questions answered." I could take donations or not. My answer could always be "I don't know." But maybe I could help people. You never know.
9/30/2005
Many of my posts on all my blogs are things I wrote a while ago. I am constantly writing new material, but if I can let it abide for a few months and go back to it, I have a better idea of its worth. This post is about an extraodinary day in September 2005.
Yesterday I asked the universe to send me something new, a sign, not really, but an indication that I was human, that I made a difference -- it's impossible to say what I wanted, not really validation, just something, you know?
So shortly after, I stopped at an intersection in a residential neighborhood, Northeast 30th and Everett, I think. On my left, a man carrying a black and white violin case came walking out of a house, looking purposeful. On the right, a Sikh came walking in my direction. He was smiling. Neither is unusual in itself; plenty of people play the violin and plenty of people are Sikhs. But the incongruity of both at once was startling.
So the universe had spoken. Yet it wasn't finished. Today, I took a walk at my lunch break (close on to 8 p.m.) and as I increasingly do, I tried to walk with no destination. Dusk was just over and the air was clear. The light had that improbable definition that seemed like an expensively shot movie. Everything was fine and polished. I wondered how people could think downtown was failing on a night like this.
My footsteps (I walk carefully now, slowly and deliberately, on the third week anniversary of falling and cracking my elbow) take me, in slow time, downhill toward the Pioneer Courthouse and Pioneer Place. I figure I can take the bus back to work -- buses being free in the downtown area and still running pretty regularly at 8 p.m. I notice many things -- the lines of buildings against an achingly indigo sky, the drooping larch on the courthouse lawn, the blue lights on the shopping center, the witch sitting on the bus bench. She was in full regalia -- the pointed hat, the cloak, both lined with pink-purple fur or feathers. I didn't want to stare -- that was what such an outfit called for and I wouldn't do it -- but I did notice she had eyeglasses and was smoking a cigarette. She also had black netted stockings and spiky heeled shoes. Her companion had a guitar.
Was it just a costume? Halloween is still a month away, and nobody with her was costumed. It was a small group, two or three. No, she was either the genuine article or some sort of performance artist. I considered going up and asking her, but really -- what if she was a witch? Could she curse me for getting in her face? Best to let some things lie.
And so I took the bus back to Broadway and Columbia, near my work. The universe wasn't done with me, oh, no. As I got off the bus, a bent-over old Asian man approached me. "Can you help me?" he asked in a heavy accent. I saw that he had a piece of paper and was sure he was going to ask about an address. But on the paper, in pencil, was written "olive oil." Yes, I told him, I knew what that was.
He pointed to another line: "extra virgin" and a third: "extra light." Which one should he cook with? I told him I'd prefer the extra virgin. He said he had tried both but that the extra virgin was "too black," meaning darker. Well yes, I said, but it was of better quality. He thanked me for helping with his cooking and set off in the direction of the Safeway.
Southwest Broadway and Columbia. This was the same intersection where by chance I had encountered the East Indian who was looking for Swagat restaurant and I was able to give him the exact location and directions -- NW 21st and Lovejoy. He was looking for 7th Street, probably because the address was in the 700s of 21st, and would have been totally lost without advice.
I've also been asked for help by German tourists, and a couple of people have wanted to know whether the DMV is close by (it is). There must be something to the intersection of Broadway and Columbia. Perhaps some day, I'll sit on the seat of my walker by the bus stop with a sign that reads, "Your questions answered." I could take donations or not. My answer could always be "I don't know." But maybe I could help people. You never know.
9/30/2005
posted by Fran at 10:55 PM
