his eye is on the sparrow.
There is a study that says Vancouver is the most livable city in the world. Well, lots of studies, actually.
Everyone likes to tell us how livable we are.
And it’s true — when I drive along the coastline in West Vancouver or stand on bustling, vibrant Commercial Street or walk through the Sun Yat-Sen gardens or sit on a sunny patio on W. 4th or stare up at the iron-willed trees that still grow tall in Stanley Park, I feel like I live somewhere good. There’s beauty here.
But I’m supposing that where and how you live in the most livable city matters more than anyone’s rating of the city overall. The people lying in doorways downtown might say the temperate weather is good, but the endless rain is bad. The people living in slum-condition housing on the Eastside might tell you that they’re glad they found a spot that they can afford to live, but that they wish they had more locks on the door and a landlord that didn’t try to collect the rent twice.
I’m also supposing that it matters who you are, and what you expect. If you expect nothing, every city is livable. If you expect the world, any city is bound to disappoint.
Situation and perspective.
There’s a lot you can do about them… sometimes. And then sometimes you can’t.
Thousands of people move through this city every day and I wonder how livable their lives are.
Did they wake up this morning with excitement or dread?
Do their bones ache when they walk, or do they run for miles with wind in their hair?
Are they ruled by habits and needs and vices, or do they make choices based on reason?
Is there someone else directing their days, or are they in control?
If they could be somewhere else, would they be? Or are they passing me on the street with full confidence that where they are is where they belong?
I suppose a little of both, depending on the day.
When I got off the bus this morning and flipflopped down the hill to my office, I was cut off by a variety of different people heading in different directions, crosshatching the pavement in a hundred different hurries. I walk past most of them every morning, and they’re no better at navigating the bodies around them now than the first day I walked this path.
There is the woman in her awkward, clompy shoes who nearly trips on the curb, and hopes no one sees.
There is the man walking his dog who just looks angry. I don’t think there’s another way to describe him.
There is the man in his suit with loose pants, clutching a briefcase as old as me, sighing at the weather.
There is the obliviously slow set of girls always discussing someone named Brandon — sometimes kindly, sometimes not.
I watch them carefully and weave when I need to, avoiding collisions.
But I know I’m in my own world, too.
Or I was, until a bird got into it.
In the World’s Most Livable City, a tiny yellow and green bird was lying dead on the sidewalk and I nearly stepped on him, as did the man after me, who shuffled him to the side with an oddly horrified face.
“Dammit, nice way to start my day!”
The body looked perfect and unreal, as though someone had dropped a toy out of their hand. He was so small… so easy to miss.
Because I am a minister’s daughter with an encyclopedic memory of hymns, I remembered these lines as I walked on:
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see,
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me
Then I was standing in Starbucks, and there was a man with an obvious mental illness berating the girl at the till for overcharging him — though she hadn’t — and generally making a spectacle of himself in the midst of tired, just-waking-up people.
Everyone avoided eye contact, lest they be drawn into the drama. But you couldn’t miss him, no way.
He finally realized he hadn’t been “fleeced”, and went to struggle loudly with coffee lids, dumping them on the floor and swearing at the cream jug. I met him again at the crosswalk down the street, where he stepped boldly into oncoming traffic before the light had a chance to change.
Fortunately, the Audi had good brakes, or I would have seen another body on the pavement this morning.
But I think this man fell from the sky a long time before today.
Does anyone see him? Really see him?
Does anyone see me?
I wonder if anyone knows that there is a song that I have to skip on my iPod when I’m riding the bus because I will surely cry if I let it play. I wonder if anyone knows I am craving cherries. I wonder if anyone knows that I feel sick from a new run of pills or from an old set of problems. I wonder if anyone knows that my smile is from a crush or a joke or a deep breath of salt air coming up from the harbour. I wonder if anyone can tell what I’m thinking when I smile at babies in their mothers’ arms. I wonder if that man sees me looking at him, and knows how I’ve already memorized the line of his jaw. I wonder if anyone can tell I’m struggling.
They can’t, though.
Just like I can’t. Or don’t. Or don’t want to.
We move through and that’s that.
We only notice the things that throw themselves into our path, and even then, we try and avoid them or put them to the side. We’re just trying to survive ourselves, after all. We don’t need the complication.
But something in me says that the only way I’m going to make my city — or my life — truly livable is to open my eyes and turn my heart outward and actually see things around me, rather than just watching them go by.
After all, the best way to not feel alone is to remember that you aren’t.
September 6th, 2007 at 10:15 am
It’s not even noon yet and you’ve made me cry, Meg. I wonder these things, too. I do wonder about the people around me, everyone in their own little worlds. I wonder how to bridge that gap. Keep writing, and I think one of these days you’ll be able to tell me.
September 6th, 2007 at 10:24 am
Nice work, MegFowler, well said.
September 6th, 2007 at 10:52 am
This is one of the best posts you have ever written. Just fantastic.
I also wanted to comment on Vancouver’s recent rating as the most livable city in the world. When you see the thousands of homeless, the prostitutes and the drug addicted…well I’m not sure they would agree.
I believe it was Tolstoy that said (paraphrasing) that you can judge the health of a society by its prisons. I would suggest taking this even further and judge a society by the lives of it’s poorest citizens. What a noble/livable place we are when we throw the poor out into the street to make way for condos.
Not to be a downer. Sorry. Great post, again.
September 6th, 2007 at 12:54 pm
Have to pick your battles. Period.
I believe society is built one act of kindness at a time, BUT, some “homeless” people are just plain lazy.
The vast majority of drug abusers came from good homes.
People need to take responsibility for themselves. Buy new shoes. Watch where you are going. Force that smile out. Make changes.
I had a trucker belly. I have zero sense of smell. Anosmia. The trigger that tells me I have eaten isn’t there. People commented. I changed. I did the hard work. I quit eating. Smaller portions. Low calorie alternatives. I have controlled my weight for years now. I have higher social value. The rewards are daily. But I look at my peers, and most, the vast majority are waiting for death as far as I can judge.
Not willing to do the hard work. If they have heart attacks, Blah.
Choose your battles. Fight for the courageous ones. Support the woman how leaves a abusive relationship. Tip your server, they work for a living. Smile at the cashier, they get up every morning to earn a living.
And, dammit, call your mom!
Vancouver is on the cutting of being a just society. We are trying four pillars. We have the legalize prostitution dialogs. Anyone can walk into a hospital.
There is a massive social net.
My eye is seeking people trying to improve. Angry guy with a dog? Woman with poor choice of footwear? Beligerent anyone? Here, let me check my sympathy meter. Nope, not even a blip. But, I give big tips to the pizza guy. Money which I got out of bed to earn, and justified my bills to save.
I personally believe you need to focus your energy to make the world a better place.
/rant off
September 6th, 2007 at 1:18 pm
I think everyone comes at their view of society from a very different place — different view of human nature, natural justice, sociological data, societal forces, et al.
The only point I’m making here is to open your eyes and really look at the world around you — preferably with a heart of compassion. If we can tear down the walls we place between ourselves and others, take a hard look at our prejudices, and see where help is needed and where love can be given, I think it’s probably the only way anything will change.
It’s the only way I’ve ever managed to help anyone, at least.
One thing I will say: there is a huge difference between social prestige/affirmation and social value. You can be gorgeous/fit/physically “ideal” and have ZERO social value, if your heart and mind are absolutely undeveloped.
But I think you and I quibbled about that one before. :)
Thanks for getting me all commenty on your comment!
September 6th, 2007 at 2:10 pm
Amen…
September 6th, 2007 at 3:10 pm
Today I can’t lurk past without dropping some words in your comment jar. Perhaps it’s because I’m supremely frustrated with the book I’m reading and the seeming randomness and superfluity of every sentence. I keep expecting all the fragments to suddenly settle into an epiphanous “Aha” but as I approach the finish, I’m increasingly doubtful. So, I feel the need to hold something up and say: “this here - now this is good writing.” And your post – it is very good.
I stumbled upon it this afternoon while trying to figure out how to install and configure WordPress. I remembered that your blog is powered by WordPress and dropped by for hints. To my delight, I found nothing of practical use but I did find this:
“I was cut off by a variety of different people heading in different directions, crosshatching the pavement in a hundred different hurries.”
And this:
“There is the obliviously slow set of girls always discussing someone named Brandon — sometimes kindly, sometimes not.”
And this especially:
“The body looked perfect and unreal, as though someone had dropped a toy out of their hand.”
Beautiful!
I’ll probably finish my book because that’s the kind of person I am. But it was refreshing to break and read something profound, graceful, and succinct. Thanks for throwing this into my path!
September 6th, 2007 at 5:12 pm
Great post, Meg.
September 6th, 2007 at 7:13 pm
You’ve reminded me of the song “Unknown” [lyrics can be found at http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/wright-chely/unknown-9874.html]
September 6th, 2007 at 8:17 pm
Firstly, beautifully written prose.
Secondly, re: Does anyone see him? Really see him?
Does anyone see me?
Yes, there are people out there who notice. Who look, really look. Who can’t know what you’re thinking when you look, but make up stories of what you’re thinking to go along with what they see. I know ’cause I’m one of those.
September 6th, 2007 at 8:59 pm
Great post Meg. You sure know how to say things good. But about seeing people, no they don’t. People are selfish, thats true. Nobody sees me either. I am invisible even to my husband. Nobody cares. It is a sad sad world.
Must make a comment on your commenter Doug. i quit giving tips when the recipients quit saying thank you. It seems like some universal word came down to all waiters, delivery people etc a couple yrs ago. I havent been acknowledged for my tip since and some were hefty. Too bad. A simple thanks would suffice but they are determined to not say it, usually giving me a defient or blank look as if they expect me to question them. If you pay by debit card and put the tip on it - how do you know they even receive it? They sure dont say. So to heck with ‘em!
September 6th, 2007 at 9:39 pm
What a wonderful perspective. Invisible people can be made visible by the most minute heart-felt actions. But it does need to be an outcropping of the heart and not merely an action for action’s sake. And, speaking of heart, thanks for letting another little piece of yours show. It’s delightful.
September 7th, 2007 at 12:32 am
What a beautiful post, so insightful and something to think about while on the bus tomorrow morning. Thank You
September 7th, 2007 at 1:47 am
Lovely post, Meg.
September 10th, 2007 at 1:15 pm
thank you so much for this post.