A breath of fresh air in the midst of stale air

I am currently in London working and I have to say being here makes me appreciate just how easy it is to live in Bermuda. We sometimes think the grass is greener on the other side. We sometimes fool ourselves into believing what’s over there is better than what we have.

What I am most appreciative of is how easy it is for me to get to and from work when I am back home in Bermuda. Even on those days when there is somewhat of a traffic jam. At least we have the opportunity to look of the window at the beautiful scenery we have all around us. The colours. The ocean. The trees. The birds. The sky. The clouds. All free for us to look at when we are sat in traffic. Available to us on most days of the year. Absolutely free of charge,

Being here in London having to take the subway in to work is so much pressure because thousands of people are trying to get to and from work at the same time. So people end up being squashed together like sardines in a can. Like objects rather than human beings. Everyone rushing trying to get to their destinations that they have no concept of the journey because it is so dark, dank, smelly, impersonal and crowded. No space to breathe in fresh air. No way to look out the window and see the beauty and abundance of nature.

It is an underground existence. One where the light of day does not become known until the destination is reached. Until people have squeezed themselves past everyone else who is intent on getting to their destination that they don’t even see the people coming and going as people. They see them as objects instead. Things in the way of their destination. Not humans but obstructions. So they push and get aggressive with each other because they have one objective in mind and that is to get out of the subway system as fast as they can.

Standing in the dark underground last evening when I was coming on with people crowded all around me, I thought about how fortunate I am to live in a beautiful place where I have a very short and above ground commute to and from work. Where I have the privilege of popping into my children’s school whenever I can without disrupting my day too much. Where I can breathe in nature even on those days when I am frustrated that traffic is backed up. Compared to here, our traffic jams are a walk in the park.

Thinking about how much I missed the colours of my home while staring at the greyness of the walls. Inhaling the smell of the underground. Staying out of the way of those who were trying to get out into the light. And as I was contemplating my home, I could feel somewhere staring at me and I turned and there beside me was a fellow Bermudian standing next to me. Our eyes met and we knew each other instantly. He had been a summer student in our deli we owned many years before. And there he was standing beside me as a man working in London. Grown up and sophisticated. A home grown Bermudian like a needle in a haystack delivered just for me. Just for us. Giving us each a touchstone of home.

The Universe delivering him to me to remind me we are never alone. Never. There is always someone with us. With the same thinking and wavelength as us and when we put our thoughts out there into the Universe without demand or expectation, we are always answered. Always delivered. As I was last evening with the friendly face of a young Bermudian male in the midst of the hundreds of people packed like sardines into the subway station.

A breath of fresh air in the midst of stale air delivered just for me. Just for him. Just for us. Gratitude for the place I call home, Bermuda. Namaste.