Can you hear the music?

On most days I take the Metro to and from work. Many mornings I will have my headphones on to either listen to an audio book or listen to songs that I have heard a thousand times. I have even worn headphones with no sound so that strangers won't be tempted to talk to me on my morning ride. When I arrive at my stop I take the escalator up to the ground level so I can start my fast paced walk to my office. Sometimes I see a young man playing a violin at the foot the escalator. This young man is a handsome, thin, African American man between 20-25 years old. He plays his instrument with his eyes closed. I see him smelling the music, just breathing in deeply, slowly and wholly. Even though everyone around him is running around like chickens with their heads cut off in the direction of the closest Starbucks, he does not move faster.




Notice that I said that I see him; I didn't say that I hear him. Why don't I hear him? One reason may be that I don’t want to take off my headphones---that would take effort. Maybe I don't want to slow down. Doesn't he know that I have to go to work? I've even thought that I shouldn't listen to his music because then I will feel obligated to drop a little donation into his violin case. That would mean that I would have to stop, take off my gloves, dig in my briefcase looking for cash that I never carry. Then I would be late to work or worse, the line would get too long at Starbucks. So no, I don't dare allow myself to enjoy his music. It would feel wrong--at least that's what I tell myself. I have denied myself the pleasure of his music. I will not hear the music. I do not accept the beautiful gift of his time and talent. WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?



So fast forward to the end of my work day when I walk back to the Metro to start my trek back home. Many times I run into a different musician. This man is in his late 50's early 60’s, African American man that plays a trumpet LOUDLY! I can't help but hear his music. No one can escape his music. I think he only knows a couple of songs because there is very little variety in the playlist. The blaring, out of tune honking of his horn make me want to either run onto the escalator at full speed or if the line is too long I want to dig into my bag for any money I can possibly find because I know if I drop it into his case, he will stop playing long enough to thank me and make some kind of small talk that last long enough for the line to shorten. I asked myself why I do this---the answer: I do not want to hear the music. Or is it that I cannot hear his music? Maybe my ear is messed up and I cannot appreciate his gift. I see others stop to listen to him, and when they do I wonder what they are thinking. Are they thinking what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that I want him to stop playing---please! WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?



In one case I won't listen to the music, and in the other case I don't want to listen to the music ----perhaps
I should drag my daughter’s keyboard out there and play it fearlessly and loudly and maybe then I will know what it feels like. What would I gain? I might gain courage, pity, scorn, spit, laughter, and maybe a few bucks---that I can then use to buy my next coffee at Starbucks!



Seriously, WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME? ---DON'T ANSWER THAT:}