Life | Jess Hill

Some days a moment can feel miraculous.
To truly find yourself in the present tense, feeling, seeing, interacting with a quiet abandon most think reserved for children is such a gift.
Such curiousity.
So much compassion.
Last night, after a day filled with beautiful conversations, delicious food, and many works of art (I went to MAKE it Vancouver – the handmade revolution) I grabbed a few groceries and headed out into the brisk night to catch the bus home.
At the bus stop I was reminded by my fellow transit users posture and averted eyes just how unfriendly this beautiful place can be. Perhaps we can blame the rain and the low hanging clouds. Perhaps, they force us to gaze downward and raise our shoulders up to our ears as we flit from awning to awning, trying to keep dry. But last night, yesterday was sunny; not a cloud in the sky. I suppose a habit is made.
Each time I return home from another city I notice it a little more and so I have made efforts to combat it in myself. I sing as I stroll, smiling at strangers and randomly saying hello, giggling at the confused expressions I encounter and feeling elated when someone returns my gaze warmly.

Every smile is a little revelation that no one is truly alone.

The bus came and we all piled on; most remembering to move to the back, taking care to leave the courtesy seats for those in need.
I sat in the middle of a crowded bus as a familiar face appeared. An indigenous man who sits carving works of art on a nearby street corner got on the bus carrying a bag and his crutches. He refused the offer of a seat and kept on strolling to the back of the bus and an open seat within view. He sat down, I smiled at him, he gave a smile and a wave in return. Then an elderly black man a seat away from me uttered something about the poisons of alcohol and Listerine addiction being the end of us. Just then our eyes met, we each nodded, and quickly averted our gazes again as the woman between us got off the bus. An empty seat remained for several stops. I hummed quietly, in my usual manner, singing my observations out into the din under enunciated but melodic. The man a seat away began to sing too. We sat with our ears leaning into the empty seat between us quietly in song as people hustled about all around us seemingly unaware of the music moving from our breath.
When I got off the bus we shared a smile so true and warm, so human that my heart filled with light.
I was in awe at the grace a moment offered me.
My appreciation for the diversity of mankind suddenly even more enormous than before.

We are each a thing of beauty and every moment is capable of affirming that. To live aware and artfully in your senses can bring small magic with great and uplifting consequence into the mundane.

We sat, we sang, we smiled, we shared.