Flying

Original Post Date: June 24th, 2009

I think that, if there is a God, His purpose for me is to observe His art.

It sounds a quaint statement. And then it sounds a meaningful one. Then on deeper analysis, it seems a very arrogant one. But, humility needn't defend itself. I watched an old man tip his city bus driver. It was beautiful.

I was on my way to the Greyhound station, getting ready to zone out, when the old man got on the bus. He ambled, and I was in one of the front seats. The bus was crowded. He sat down next to me, after cordially asking if he could. I, with the most respect and mom-and-pop-raised civility I could muster, looked him in the eye and said "of course!" I hadn't even noticed that he had a wife, who had taken a seat close by us.

I knew he'd want to talk. Old people always want to talk. He spoke about how much Kelowna has grown. How small it used to be. He spoke about how he had thought to retire in Toronto, but then he couldn't handle how much it made him perspire. That was his word. Perspire. Now he was retired here, and had watched it grow.

I had begun to worry that I may have to ask this man to get up, so that I could catch my stop, but that was only Nature making sure that I would pay attention. The bus stopped - one stop from mine - and it was his. He hoped I would have a good day, reached for his cane, and got up. His wife got off using the exit in the middle of the bus. He didn't follow. He ambled, very slowly, up the center of our grungy bus, past a few questionable glances, and dug his hand deep into his right pocket. It took him a while, and though he was matter of fact, his pocket mining and speed denied him subtlety. Finally reaching the front of the bus, he produced a small quad of coins and deftly placed it in the bus driver's hand. He'd been doing that for a long time. A quick but hearty exchange followed while we all waited, and then he exited the bus to rejoin his loved one.

I swear I saw, through the window, his equally aged and waiting wife smirk.

~~~

I overheard someone my age hit on a 35 year old woman on her birthday at the bar. They were going to hook up. Apparently he had a girlfriend. Apparently she found out. Apparently the girlfriend's in Alberta. Obviously, she didn't care how far away the girlfriend was, the point is, he fucking had a girlfriend.

I bought her a shot. That's something worth celebrating. Happy birthday.

~~~

I had an unexpected lunch today with a friend. I listened as he told me of his newly discovered role of fatherhood. He is ambitious: This kid will do well in middle school. It's good for him.

My friend never did well in school. It was good for him. He's more successful than me, and I did very well in school. I had nothing to contribute, except that I was writing more than usual. He, on the other hand has grandiose plans: for himself, for his new family, and his new (step-)child. His only regret was that a small set-back a long time ago had delayed his career advancement for a few months.

And, as he sighed over this set-back, he also told the tale his soon-to-be wife explained to him: If it were not for this delay, they might never have met. All things happen for a reason, she had said to her lover.

I found myself wondering where I would have been if my ex-lover had felt as adamant as the birthday girl. If things had gone a different way. Perhaps I would have been more successful, earlier. More ambitious. Living one of the many lives I watched. I wondered whether that kind of a life would have been better, or worse.

But that was only Nature making sure I would pay attention. This next move was important.

~~~

A co-worker reminded me, yesterday, about quantum physics. God's dice.

I don't know a lot about the stuff, but I know the cat metaphor: Place a live cat in a box. Close the box and set a gun next to it, so that when you open the box to check on the cat, the cat is shot dead. Is the cat alive or dead?

Point is: it's both. But observation changes things.

~~~

Tonight, I was catching up on the archives of a blog of a woman I have come to appreciate beyond measure; a woman I would never have met meaningfully if things had progressed differently with my ex-lover. I didn't know she had a blog. She never told me. I never thought to ask.

It was going to make for a quaint night. She's a good writer. As I got lost in her old discussions, I found myself particularly taken with one entry about her soul's pilgrimage. It spoke to me. I felt happy and weightless reading it.

As I swirled the entry around in my mind's mouth, I realized that she used exactly the same metaphor that I had used months ago to describe to a friend of mine, the sense of freedom a heart and mind should have.

Then I smiled as my thought process ambled up along my grungy memory. That friend of mine just so happened to share the namesake of this woman beyond measure. Same metaphor. Same meaning. Same name. Then I dug deeper.

The blog entry was posted at the same time that I had used the metaphor; it was the same date.

Watching me then, God must have smirked.


Tip your bus driver,
- Z