night and christmas in New york

The Manhattan streets were loaded with Christmas colour and noise. Walking along 34th going west I could see the famous decorations of Macy's, and at the same time I became aware of the drum beat in the cold air. Buskers are a dime a dozen in the City. They are in the subways, streets, trains and everywhere else they could make a buck. Some are good. The drum beat was beyond that standard by far.
Crossing 6th Avenue I saw the man making the sound. Medium size, wiry, black and dressed for December, he was playing a variety of implememt. A lid from a trash can, pots of many sizes, chains and a whole variety of bangers, clashers, jinglers and the rest surrounded him. Boom boom the air went. Boom boom and jingle jangle and on and on. All of the sounds came together in the cold night air and the New York crowd was digging it. I mean they were into it without the giving or asking of permissions. The drummer took all of us on the trip.
I have never been a huge fan of drums. Often I have sat in concerts and suffered through another drum solo made bearable only by the chemicals in my system. Even Ginger Baker left me yawning. Not this guy.
Pulling free of the rythym I watched the people surrounding me at the corner. Their thighs moved free of constriction, as if all awkwardness was sent home to wait for another day. Feet shod in expensive and cheap boots tapped with gusto. The bodies swayed and a tribe was born for the moment. A tribe of any of us who stumble into a magic moment and are freed for just a short time simply by our proximity to magic. Such a drama but so good. so right and here in the middle of the City. No payment required. Only donations.
My attention, or what was not moving with the beat, directed at the man making this music. As I watched I realized how isolated he was from the crowd of listeners who made him invisble to the cars and busses rolling along the streets. He was all about the sound. I do not know how I knew but I was certain he cared far less for the money than the chance to make this wonderful pulsing joy in New York's night.
Lost again I swayed and bent to his energy which created the magic that freed the people that I was a part of and wanted so much to remain a part of despite my blathering and thinking and planning and poor ass attempts to control all. Here I was in the magic without forethought or foreplay for that matter. Being and being and being and then I remeber my appointment to pick up my wife and daughter at Penn Station.
Just like that I went from part of something I could not plan but gave me so much to the normal old life. Maybe that is why being grateful is so important, as often it is all that is left to remind me of the moments I cannot plan. To bring me back to the special seconds not ever counted. Back to all I want to be and sense I can be, but mainly live without.
Just walking at night during Christmas in this City.
Turning away, heading West again, I was without mindfulness for a blessed few minutes. My wife and daughter were there on time and we went to 32nd and ate Korean.