Up and out

Life appears to be an annoying blur as of late, one that I'm resisting quite a bit of the time. I was reminded of this last night as I was listening to a friend of mine speak about being in love with his life. I thought, "Now that's a damn fine idea. I should do that!" And I, again, felt guilty about not appreciating what an extraordinary life I have. I mean, look, I'm marrying this amazing, extraordinary, fabulous, surprising woman, who wants to actually marry ME. For our honeymoon we are taking a YEAR long trip AROUND THE WORLD. And to top if off we're buying an amazing condo, pre-construction, that we got to pick aspects of; that's right, it's a customized home. That's COOL.

Mostly, I think, life is a blur because I'm not paying attention. I'm looking in and down at the minutia of what there is to do and handle, rather than up and out at the swirl of life around me. It reminds me of the moment in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, when the student breaks through writer's block only after trying to write about, not her home town, not the main street, not city hall, not even the facade of the building, but a single brick in one corner of one wall.

And there's lots to notice, if I just open my eyes. Step outside and look around. Get out of the damn house. I had a reminder of this last Friday night.

We were hanging out with a coworker of mine who happens to be a magician. This, in and of itself, thrills me to no end. Another magic geek to bond with. In any case, we were in the square at 10ish PM, after the guitar guy with his tip jar had stopped playing, but hadn't cleaned up his stuff yet. He's still there, though, with family and kids, relaxing off to the side.

There are two little girls in the group, one maybe 5, the other 8 or 9, and they are playing with the microphone, which is live. The microphone is taller than the 5 year old, so she has to stand on tip toes to speak into it, angling it down and cupping it in her tiny hands. For some time they take turns singing a word or two of songs before running off and giggling, but then the 5 year old drums up the courage to sing.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Brilliant. The crowd went wild.

So she sung it again. And for the encore, sang the Alphabet Song. (You know, "A,B,C,D...")

Then, and this is the crystallized moment in time, she, in the tradition of generations of lounge singers, says, "Is it anybody's birthday?" To which my friend, David the magician, and praise and bless his heart for doing so, says, "I have a birthday." And the little girl takes this in, and pauses. And he adds, "And my name is David. That might be useful to know for the song."

And she sings "Happy Birthday." Beautifully. Including David's name. Then she goes:

"Anyone else have a birthday?"

A moment in time. Thank god we left the house.