The Beauty of One

It’s a hot summer day here in Toronto.  Looks like 2010 will be a glorious one weather wise and it is only July 3^rd and we’ve already had about a month of summer weather. What’s that got to do with being the beauty of one?  Well, it’s one day, the only day I have, and as you read this it is your one and only day.

What brought this title to mind was gazing on the photographs I took today on my photo jaunt in downtown Toronto.  I had to pick up a battery for my camera at good old Henry’s and so I took the camera along.  I rarely take it with me if I am going to leave the car parked for the day as I’d hate to have it stolen.  It’s an extension of my right arm and I’d be lost without it.

After picking up my battery, I strolled along Queen Street towards Yonge Street.  Henry’s is located about two blocks east of Yonge.  On the right there’s a United Church which used to host jazz musicians that I’d go and watch during my lunch hour when I worked downtown.  Just me.  One.  I liked it that way because I could look and do what I wanted, speak if I chose, or not.  Being one, sometimes folks approached me, for you see a lot of people sleep in that church park at night and during the day they disappear so us folks in the suits could use the benches to relax and talk about…well, often about things that just didn’t matter.

As I walked along today I saw a lot of ones.  I saw one man snoozing on the bench, one flower the sole survivor on a bush that I am certain once flourished with tons of blossoms, one bicycle, one park bench with two people on it, one man walking slowly looking at the ground, trying to find….by the looks of him, perhaps a fix and my heart went out to that one.  At one picnic table there were several men, some old some new, all chatting or seeming to be chatting.  There was one bottle of seven up on the table; one being shared by many.

When I got home I downloaded my photos and what struck me was that there was more beauty and story and depth and soul in those photos that contained only one:  one daisy, one man, one bench.  You see, when there is but only one it seemed to me it left room for me to fill in the rest as I would like it to be; a creative license, for instance, to write a better story, a better ending for that one man who walked bent over, searching. Perhaps, I thought, he was looking for the one penny that would make up what was needed for him to catch a ride on the streetcar to the shelter where he knew he, just one, would find a welcome and he could get help, from some one.

One and solitary; so much beauty waiting to be written, to be seen.  I’ve lived my life with every one telling me I needed some one to be complete.  I don’t need that, for I am complete and there is more beauty in the completeness of one than in the half emptiness of two.

One, standing on a hill, shining a light of love, like a lighthouse in a storm.  Just one, standing alone.  Love on Legs (LOL).