Savouring the moment

It was a beautiful day. There were no clouds at all in the sky. I stood in one place and gazed up into the blue expanse, admiring the consistency of the colour. It looked as if the Almighty had taken a paintbrush to the heavens to cover up a white canvas background. The sun was out in the afternoon sky, lazily making its way towards the horizon.

I was on my way home from an expedition to explore the city. The bus I had been riding stopped frequently to pick up other transit users. Sitting in the seat along the side in the back, I was able to view the entire length of the vehicle which contained an interesting mosaic of human diversity. There were Asians mixed with Caucasians and African-Americans, senior citizens sitting beside new mothers holding fussing babies. I saw teens sloppily dressed in t-shirts one size too large, with pants sagging down their waist, engrossed with their cell phones, oblivious to the world around them.

I took my headphones from my iPod out of my ears and placed them in my pocket. Something about the moment told me to make it pure, to drink in the ambient sounds and environment without some nameless rock star blaring noise into my consciousness.

The bus creaked and hissed as it stopped. The double doors slid open with a clanging sound, releasing those who had lined up at the door. Some faces walked on through the front door, dumping their change into a box which spat out a ticket. The bus accelerated and people grabbed onto rails to steady themselves. I looked outside at the cars and houses lining the street as the bus picked up speed and gathered my bearings. Only a few more stops to go.

I glanced outside again. I felt as if nature was calling me, which it very well may have been, but I am in the city. Cities are where people go to get away from nature. And yet, something about the day, the moment, called to me, beckoning me to the outside world.

I reached up behind me and yanked on a cord running the length of the side of the bus. A bell-sound echoed inside the bus and the driver maneuvered the vehicle to the side of the road, decelerating slowly. I got up and stumbled towards the door, using a handrail to keep my balance as the vehicle braked. As the bus lurched to a complete stop, I lightly pushed on the handle of one of the double doors. The door automatically parted at the middle, swinging inwards. I stepped out onto a gravel patch surrounded by grass and took a deep breath. Seeing me in the clear, the driver swung the front of the bus back out into the land and sped off.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and stared down the street, houses staring at each other on both sides. Lush greet trees lined both sides, reaching up thirty feet, with branches stretching out at the top, meeting in the middle. It was as if nature itself had built an archway covering the length of the street.

My eyes moved to the sidewalk. Leaves were scattered about, different shades of brown, orange and red, signaling the turning of season. I began to walk down the sidewalk, the vulcanized rubber soles scuffing the concrete. Leftrightleftrightleftrightleftright.

I passed underneath the organic archway covering the street, stepping into a shaded environment.

It was like putting on a set of sunglasses. My pupils dilated slightly to take in more light in the shade and my skin cooled. The environment, which seemed so bright and hard to see before because of the light of the sun, had taken on a new clarity. I noticed details. Colours from garden plants leapt out at me, I stared at gnarled and weathered bark on trees and watched the wind bully errant autumn leaves. Birds called out, feathered masses flying through the air, perching on uncluttered branches. Squirrels ran along tree limbs at all heights, starting and stopping in quick, jerky movements.

On the street cars drove by, their engines rumbling, howling or purring - depending on the make and model. Loud rap music pounded out of one. Drivers sat behind their steering wheels, concentrating on the road, and some (more so), on the conversation they were having on their cell phones.

I slowed my pace, drinking in all the details, eventually coming to a stop after a block of walking. Again I admired this landscape that seemed to be a fusion of urban and nature. But not real nature. Real nature is a place miles and miles away from the city, where one gets lost in mountain ranges. But this wasn’t real city either. Real city is a place where skyscrapers sit side-by-side, for blocks on end, where crowds of people wander the streets, where cars, trucks and buses slow traffic to a snail’s pace.

Weighing the matter, I stared once again at my surroundings. Whatever it was that my mind was trying to decide, I’d learned one thing. The everyday, the ordinary, the mundane, can be used to see the world differently and gain new insight.

The moments we savour.