Well, well, well. Two weeks into the new year and the only accurate way to describe the goings on in my head is still ‘a jumble’. I’d say that today has been going rather well, however, as my biggest problem so far has been the attempt to eat a grapefruit. HOW the HELL are you supposed to consume it without squirting 90% of it ALL OVER YOURSELF?! Any solid advice would be much appreciated. (I tried getting at it with a serrated spoon.)
Yesterday, after spending a good chunk of the evening wandering through the bookshop again with a mighty armload of books – I must have been a bit of a silly sight balancing a tower of books in my arms while desperately grasping onto my ukulele at the same time and trying very hard not to knock someone over as I shuffled along – I went for a walk by the harbour. I have not been walking around so much lately because it is cold and dark and damp outside. But I could never really stay put inside in the long run. It feels too good to breathe in fresh air and keep yourself moving forward. Besides, the city ended up not being so cold and damp and dark, but rather twinkling in the dark. It can go from rush and bustle to still and solitary very quickly indeed. Often secluded, but never lonely.
At the harbour, on a pier I came across a little setting I was not expecting. There was a fairly large scattering of odd bits and pieces of bread all over the ground and, not too far off, a collection of ducks in the dark water. This made an impression on me because it got me wondering, Did some single good soul come and deposit all this good bread at this very spot so passers by could be inspired to go out of their way for a moment and feed the birds. Giving strangers a chance and a little encouragement to perform a small kindness. Or was this just leftovers from various people with the same idea at the same spot? I’d like to believe in the first possibility.
It’s a pleasant thought, I mused while throwing chunks of bread out ahead, that strangers do cross paths in life without leaving a name or a face as evidence. A satisfying splash far in the dark and I figure, we leave anonymous marks that may alter the course of someone else’s path a little, hopefully in a better direction. Unseen but connected, it’s nice to feel that someone is looking out for others like you. I hope you always remember to feed the birds.