Busking Lady

To put it mildly, I’d been in a slump for a while. My life lacked any direction and purpose. My friends tried to help, and I knew that I needed to make changes with my life, but as time passed, my words grew increasingly stale. I still hadn’t taken any action, and my friends knew it.

I’m somewhat amazed they had the temerity to put up with me through all those years, as I was so tiresome. I really was sick of myself. Evidently I wasn’t sick enough, because if I was, I wouldn’t have relished those moments when I would abuse myself, because I was such a weak person and a part of me felt that I needed the spotlight, the attention, the sympathy.

In retrospect I would come to regret projecting myself in this light as people rightfully viewed me as damaged goods, a light touch, sensitive, someone who must be guarded against the harshest realities. At times I found myself mistrusting anyone should they pay me a compliment; surely these words were intended only out of politeness?

Some of the friends I spoke to proposed that I head down to our local beach every day, with the intention of ordering a coffee or some such beverage at the nearby cafe. The ultimate goal would be to make regular trips, day by day, and strike up a “cordial relationship” of sorts between consumer and owner, and if possible any other regular attendees.

It was a very promising idea and in this moment I set out for the beach. Ultimately the trip failed to realize its potential as I was cowardly and never even approached the cafe entrance where a small crowd of people had gathered. I stood alone to their left on the boardwalk, looking out at the waves, as I often would. Then I left.

I can never commit myself to a task, and sure enough after only a few days I’d given up on the whole idea of making acquaintances at the cafe. I never ended up going there in the end, I only stood on that boardwalk, watching passers-by frolic across sea and sand. Thereupon I switched my radar to our neighboring suburb, just because it was a tad larger and had more to offer in terms of eateries and the like.

Ultimately I considered it a good move, or at least something more lively occurred, compared to what transpired down at the beach. I’d walked down to the main shopping area, I had a bit of money in my pocket and was looking to pick up some lunch, maybe considering the time of day, it would’ve been brunch – in any case, being the weekend, it was very difficult to find any place I liked that was open. I swear, all the sushi places, all the Asian eateries were locked, and any place that was open just didn’t interest me.

So, I kept walking right up to the very top just to ascertain that there were no promising places that I’d missed out on.

As I walked back, feeling utterly defeated, my ears detected a sound – not for the first time, I realized I’d heard this music while making my initial progress through. Glancing in the direction from which the music was being played, I observed a woman playing an instrument, though I forget what it is now.

Standing on the edge of the pathway, I took my wallet awkwardly out of my pocket and strode across to her. Wallet in hand, I took out a ten dollar note and placed it inside her guitar case. All of this to me seems like such a wild moment, like a flurry of actions, nothing done in a composed way; as she said to me, “oh my God, thank you so much, God Bless You,” my eyes were fixed on the pavement below, my hands furiously wringing the wallet shut. Then I strode away in a rush without looking at her. I felt exhilarated and began to sweat and itch.

In the aftermath I reflected upon my action, how I had contributed and made someone happy, even if it was only brief.

Walking back home, I told myself, no matter how badly you or others may view you as a person, you have brought some light to this world, haven’t you? At least a little. Even a tiny donation such as that proves you are capable of some good.

Back at home I fantasized about approaching the busking lady and somehow striking up some sort of light banter. Maybe I’d ask her about her musical inspirations. I despaired somewhat as I’m not so musically inclined , and we might hit a wall there, but in these fantasies we always seem to overcome these issues and create a fluid dialogue amongst ourselves.