Art is everywhere, if you choose to look.
Lately, as the weather becomes a slightly more pleasurable each day, I am taking the opportunity to get back out on the streets of Toronto to observe what really happens here.
Last Thursday, on the way to an appointment, I was fortunate to notice something I had never seen before.
Just about any day you’ll find Ross Ward hunched over on Yonge Street tending to his art. The ‘Birdman of Toronto’ has been a fixture on these streets in various locations for well over a decade, and during each day he crafts, and sells, palm-sized birds.
Once only a hobby — this is now more than whittling — Ward carves out shapes of common birds from reclaimed wood. There is always a piece in progress, and always a small flock for sale on his concrete workspace.
Perhaps in our day-to-day journeys, we don’t look close enough at all the people. We don’t often observe enough to see art just happening here and there on our landscape. I’ve wandered this street how many times and only last week did I notice the man. I saw him again on the weekend.
Appreciating the beauty of his work, I bought a bird as a gift for someone . . . or maybe a souvenir for myself to one day remember my time in this city.
Couldn’t we all use more memorable hand-made art?
Mondays are just young Fridays
What defines a miracle in these days of instant access and rapid advancement?
Could it be something as simple, or as natural, as today’s solar eclipse? Events of this type do happen with some regularity, though years and decades apart. In the big picture of time and the universe, you might even call them common. They simply happen when they do, despite what we do on this earth.
This year’s eclipse is expected to be the most viewed ever.
Could it be we are counting on something so far beyond our control that it will qualify as a miracle in a time when we are looking for magic?
We are all waiting for a miracle, it is our nature.
We, as humans, are always looking for something more, something better, or something significant, when instead we should consider each day on this planet is exactly that – a miracle.
Whether this eclipse is magic or just a once-in-awhile celestial event, we need to stop for a moment and observe.
Celebrate the darkness, as the moon blocks out the sun, and respect the change of scenery before the light comes back and reminds us of the issues and ugliness we deal with on a daily basis. Moments matter.
Maybe an eclipse is a miracle; it certainly would have been for our ancestors tens of thousands of years ago. I know the total eclipse I witnessed 1979 left an impression. I know I will stand up on the roof today and see how even a partial eclipse can change my perspective.
Maybe this eclipse is enough to satisfy our need for a miracle, or maybe this is just a sign.
Maybe we need validation that earth is on course, that we continue revolving on our axis, and the planets will align as they should.
Or maybe the solar eclipse is just a shot of normal, at a time when everything is so painfully surreal?
Look around today.
Whether you choose to see the eclipse as magic, or just a little nighttime in the middle of the day, we need to remember we all share the same sky.
Maybe today, just for a moment, we can all enjoy something together.
08/21/2017 j.g.l.