Asleep in a park...

It was sunset on Granville Island and he/she was still sleeping.

My first thought was that it was a nice place to sleep.

(my second thought was that I need a longer lens)

At the foot of a park with children playing and owners and dogs running and panting and the sun sparkling off a beautiful fountain and a young asian boy practicing his saxophone.

I thought, 'Well, if you're going to be homeless, this is a pretty nice spot to pick.'

And then I realized that this is his home.

He's not homeless.

He's at home in the park.

And a deep sense of the transitory nature of life washed over me as I stood there.  Who's really to say that he's more homeless than me?  My  house is really just a cobbled together shelter of sticks and plaster and brick.  Yes, I technically 'own' it, but with the disaster looming to the south of us, who's to say who really owns my house.  If the bank 'called' my mortgage today, I'd be forced to move out.

(and thinking that thought makes me think of buying some kind of firearm so I could at least fight off the savings and loan guys for a time...)

Our security is an illusion.

And seeing all the homeless people in Vancouver has got me thinking that maybe they've got a leg up on the rest of us.  Maybe they've tasted an enlightenment born of suffering that the rest of us could benefit from gaining.  Maybe in our never ending quest to keep ourselves insulated from suffering and insecurity we've inoculated ourselves to the glories of an afternoon sleep in the park.

Now, granted, this might all be sounding very silly and ninny-ish and so on.  I get that.  I just wanted to follow that thought down the trail for a bit, because...

It's that sort of wondering, that sort of stream-of-consciousness thinking that leads to story.

For as long as I've been paid to come up with ideas and stories and sermons and speeches and scripts that's how it's happened.  I just go for a walk and something hits me.  Yes, there are days where nothing happens, but then--like a rush--I'll get a flood of ideas.

It's about living your life with your eyes and your heart and your spirit as wide open as possible.

Like this morning (and I didn't have my camera which is why I didn't shoot it which is why you're not seeing it) I saw another sleeping person, curled up at the foot of a storefront window, a storefront window that was part of the Versace store here.  Right above their head every high-end label in the World was printed on the glass.  I thought to myself, "Now, there's a dichotomy, a story, waiting to be told.

And I've found that these 'moments of clarity', these seconds where the timeless realm connects to your terrestrial wanderings, happen to artists and non alike.

So if you find yourself in need of a breakthrough at work or needing inspiration to write your wife (or your daughters) a love letter my suggestion is that you go for a walk.

You never know what you'll see come magic hour.

T