This is my week to dream, to use my imagination, to get out of the weekly grind that my job can get me into if I’m not careful. I get to engage the artist role a bit more if I work things right. It’s started off well so far; early morning on the beach with two layers of the inside of my mouth scalded with Starbucks. It’s going to be a good one. I’ve already seen an eagle glide across the beachfront. The ferries have their snow covered backdrops in place and the sun is promising 80 degrees today. It’s going to be a good one.
The usuals are here, catching busses and the morning news. One guy even came right out of bed, pajama shorts and furry slippers. I have to wonder about his judgment. After all, furry slippers and 80 degrees? Tall people, short people, espresso people, chai teas and frappucinos are all represented this morning. There are writers and readers, those on their way to work and those with work being the furthest from their minds…. And then there’s me.
I’m just around to observe for awhile. It’s not really work, although I do get to employ it as work once in awhile. It keeps my mind fresh and encourages my creativity which helps my teaching role. It helps to develop some observational practices, which could help my counselor role. It gives me a few moments of balance and down time, which will definitely help to keep me from killing someone this week. Imagination is the key. Otherwise it’s just another cup of coffee with a great view.
This is the week that I get to imagine what it might be like to be that dog that just wandered by with it’s human in tow. I wonder if he’s really as embarrassed as he should be about that haircut. I wonder what was going through his human’s mind when she paid for that haircut. I wonder if the guy at the window, scribbling in his notebook everyday, some famous author that I should know…. Or maybe he’s just writing down observations about me? Is the lady in the comfy corner chair that much into the daily news or is she just passing time? I wonder if it was a good morning in this young moms house, or did she have to “count to three” to encourage her little dark curly haired cutie to put her shoes on and get out the door on time.
I wonder how many of the people filing onto the metro are excited to start another week and how many are just “doing time” till something better comes along. I wonder if the guy at the ATM is satisfied with his balance or is he panicking over how to balance his balance. I wonder how many “weather” jokes and basketball questions this extremely tall guy has had to endure every week. Does he wish he were 5 foot 10 as often as I wish I were 6 foot 10? What made that woman think that her dress was a good idea ? Is that guy really that confident in his pink shirt? What are these people doing with cut off ski poles? Did that old couple really intend to match this morning, even down to the hats? How bad would an extra donut be for me? Are any of these people wondering if their life matters? Do they worry about dying? Have they even been able to enjoy the view, or are they too consumed with life?
Every once in awhile I get a chance to step off the train and just watch it go by. I can leave my baggage behind and hope that it never does make the destination with me. It’s great therapy. I highly recommend it. It’s not a long exercise, a few hours at most. The only thing you need to bring with you is your imagination.