It was Thursday, and I was enjoying the warm rays of sun which penetrated the bus window. I know some people hate public transportation, but I actually love sitting on a warm bus when the sun is shining, and the air outside is cooled to a crisp chill.
I live out by the beach on the opposite side from San Francisco's downtown area. When I catch a bus, it starts out empty with me being one of the few occupying seats, and quickly fills so that it is stuffed by the time it reaches Market Street.
On this particular day, every seat was taken, except for a seat beside the window which was next to me. The bus stopped. People began to enter the doors and search for a spot to rest in--but the only available seat was beside me, and a woman carrying a canvas bag decorated with purple, green, and gold flowers sat next to me. I instantly knew those colors were important to her on many levels.
She was delicate in appearance, with long slender fingers which looked as though she played stringed instruments, understood how to handle a camera at just the right angle, or possessed the confidence needed for a swift stroke as a paintbrush met with canvas. I knew she was an artist on many levels.
She placed her hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. Her touch was delicate and warm, innocent and affectionate in a way which told me she is much more tactile than the average person, and she has a true love for people in general.
She began speaking to me, asked me where her stop was located, how to use a bus transfer, and told me she was from Maryland but currently lived in Australia. I could tell she was a happy person, by the animated way she moved her hands when she spoke. I also kept noticing how she would place her hand on me as we conversed.
I'm an extremely affectionate person by nature. I love hugs and cuddles, and desire to hug and kiss animals, children and people who I feel are endearing. I liked that this woman was also this way. In fact, I felt as though I'd known her for a hundred years, and we were just visiting one another after having an extended break.
The woman told me her name was Katie. Katie who sometimes worked as an editor. We were both speaking quickly, trying to learn as much about each other as possible since we were both running late for whatever appointments we had that afternoon.
What surprised me more than all else was this:
"My birthday is February 20th," she said to me.
I had already felt several jolts of electricity which told me, "This woman is special--there are important things to learn here!"
When I told her that my birthday was also February 20th, we stared at one another in surprise for a moment and exchanged a few words which told me she understood how unusual our meeting was, how special it was, and how curious she was.
"What time were you born?" she asked.
"7:30 in the morning," I answered.
"The next stop is your stop," the woman sitting behind us said to Katie--she must have been listening to our conversation.
"I almost forgot about my stop. I'm so distracted by this woman who has my birthday," Katie said, as she smiled at me.
As she exited the bus, we exchanged contact information, but knew she would be traveling so contact would not be easy.
Meeting Katie was a gift, something special which reminded me that I'm not alone in this world--there is someone else out there who is very much like me, someone understands the importance of the colors on her bag, the rays of light which be seen around things--someone, who recognizes the signals which the world sends to us every day in order to remind us that love is everywhere to be found if we will only take a moment to notice!
I live out by the beach on the opposite side from San Francisco's downtown area. When I catch a bus, it starts out empty with me being one of the few occupying seats, and quickly fills so that it is stuffed by the time it reaches Market Street.
On this particular day, every seat was taken, except for a seat beside the window which was next to me. The bus stopped. People began to enter the doors and search for a spot to rest in--but the only available seat was beside me, and a woman carrying a canvas bag decorated with purple, green, and gold flowers sat next to me. I instantly knew those colors were important to her on many levels.
She was delicate in appearance, with long slender fingers which looked as though she played stringed instruments, understood how to handle a camera at just the right angle, or possessed the confidence needed for a swift stroke as a paintbrush met with canvas. I knew she was an artist on many levels.
She placed her hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. Her touch was delicate and warm, innocent and affectionate in a way which told me she is much more tactile than the average person, and she has a true love for people in general.
She began speaking to me, asked me where her stop was located, how to use a bus transfer, and told me she was from Maryland but currently lived in Australia. I could tell she was a happy person, by the animated way she moved her hands when she spoke. I also kept noticing how she would place her hand on me as we conversed.
I'm an extremely affectionate person by nature. I love hugs and cuddles, and desire to hug and kiss animals, children and people who I feel are endearing. I liked that this woman was also this way. In fact, I felt as though I'd known her for a hundred years, and we were just visiting one another after having an extended break.
The woman told me her name was Katie. Katie who sometimes worked as an editor. We were both speaking quickly, trying to learn as much about each other as possible since we were both running late for whatever appointments we had that afternoon.
What surprised me more than all else was this:
"My birthday is February 20th," she said to me.
I had already felt several jolts of electricity which told me, "This woman is special--there are important things to learn here!"
When I told her that my birthday was also February 20th, we stared at one another in surprise for a moment and exchanged a few words which told me she understood how unusual our meeting was, how special it was, and how curious she was.
"What time were you born?" she asked.
"7:30 in the morning," I answered.
"The next stop is your stop," the woman sitting behind us said to Katie--she must have been listening to our conversation.
"I almost forgot about my stop. I'm so distracted by this woman who has my birthday," Katie said, as she smiled at me.
As she exited the bus, we exchanged contact information, but knew she would be traveling so contact would not be easy.
Meeting Katie was a gift, something special which reminded me that I'm not alone in this world--there is someone else out there who is very much like me, someone understands the importance of the colors on her bag, the rays of light which be seen around things--someone, who recognizes the signals which the world sends to us every day in order to remind us that love is everywhere to be found if we will only take a moment to notice!
date
newest »
newest »
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,That now are wild, and do not once remember,
I meet soul-buddies like that quite often. More often than not we barely talk to each other and if in a blue moon we do then we never encounter each other again in this life. I wrote about one such girl in 'The Borders' I used to see in Borders bookshop for years but never talked to. Alas, the Muses no longer haunt the borders (of sanity) that are now rendered loveless by commercialism. The Spirit of place seemed to have long deserted it before it was pulled down:
Still round and round the Ghosts of Beauty glide,
And haunt the places where their Honour died.
