I went over to the Public Gardens this morning for the specific experience of letting its peace hold me… It was the first time this summer season and it was like walking into the arms of a grounded and welcoming friend. There was bird-song and bird chittering in conversation with the low hum of humanity; multi-hued and vari-textured beds of wildflowers alongside gorgeous pillars of leafed-out dancers that filled the skies while standing well-rooted upon the stage of land beneath. I was on my favourite bench, writing and letting the sun seep into my being…a feeling of transparency, permeability, a looseness of molecules, that allows for the free passage of light and life.
And then there was a saxophonist playing music that was familiar enough to have me think I might recognize it…just before it traversed a landscape only known to the one playing. I was far enough way that it was clear and beautiful, falling in a soft wave over all that surrounded me. When I finished my time, I went in search of the musician. There was an elderly man on a bench in the family area. I approached him only to have him say “I don’t speak English.” I put my hand over my heart and bowed with a smile. He too put his hand over his heart and bowed, saying simply “Music. Happy.”
It was all that needed to be said.