We've become accustomed to making decisions as individuals, based on the preconceived notions of our people as a collective. Dissolving the essence of each person as single entities in doing so.
We desire to form ourselves within the confines of "cool" with nearly every choice made. Clothing. Entertainment. Life-style. And even the company we keep. This equation is only multiplied once we step out of our own homes, and into the watchful eyes of the general public.
Today I sat at the Art Gallery, and watched a magical percussion band blare out wild Zimbabwe tunes. It was mesmerizing. They had the whole block stopped up and toe-tapping. By bringing, to the streets of Vancouver, a flavour of music uncommon in the western world, Kutapira is doing their part to diversify the things we enjoy.
More exquisite however, was their biggest fan; an elderly Asian gentlemen. Whom while meandering down Robson St, came across a band that infected his very skeleton.
In a fire of smiles, he lit both the crowd, and the band's face with joy as -- without worry as to the opinions of those around him -- he flung his arms, and sunk with the weight of this pleasure, into an ocean where only he, and the spirit of the sounds existed.
Though not a graceful presentation, he cared not for what a single eye saw.
This was, in its own right, beautiful.
The music was outstanding too. I sat and enjoyed, with a donation of all my change, their passion and rhythm.
I'm no different than the norm. My holdup with stranger's opinions isn't much better. I put a little more weight in the opinions of people I will have to see on more than one encounter, but I am consciously afflicted by the thought of thoughts of others.
The place we live, and the world we enjoy, would be far more comfortable for each and every one of us if we could all be the Old Man That Dances.
Thank you to Kutapira for sharing your music with the streets of Vancouver today.
It was a pleasure to watch and listen.