a low hum. do you hear that?

I'm sitting here, drinking amazing Tulsi tea and listening to some of the most beautiful oboe music I have ever heard, and thinking about the evening.

Tonight, Aberdeen's beloved band Junebug came back for a CD release party. Fed by Doris and Blue Orange also made appearances, and everyone was there. As I was listening to these great bands and seeing people hang out with each other just like they have for so many years, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the beauty and "right-ness" of the night. These people have been friends, supported each other and shared coffee together for countless hours, and though there were new and old faces, it was like each one of us had always been there.

Later, I went for a walk. For some reason I just wanted to walk by myself. I found some visual treasures along the way but ended up finding a bench to sit on for a little while. At first, I was somewhat self-conscious as I didn't know what people would think of me just sitting on the bench by myself at night doing absolutely nothing. Everytime a car went by I would try to look normal--whatever that looks like. After awhile of this, I started to relize that no one noticed that I was there. It was only my mind creating this awkwardness, not looks of bewilderment from passersby. Then it became slightly funny to me. There I was sitting on a bench late in the evening by myself doing nothing...and I loved that no one knew that I was there!

As I sat there, I tried to pick out the noises that I heard and dissect them. Eventually it came down to a hum, and if you've ever done anything like that before, you know that a hum layered underneath everyday noises can be impressively loud once noticed. Usually if I think about it for awhile, I can figure out where it's coming from. However, tonight, the hum seemed to come from the city itself--not a building, not a machine, not a light post...just from the collective community.

I sat there listening and thinking about what was going on a few blocks away from me at the coffeehouse. I thought about the people meeting up there to listen to their friends play interesting music. I thought about what that place and those people represent to me and to each other and to Aberdeen. Perhaps most of us who go there often and who are affected by and thankful for the coffeehouse don't think of it everyday or appreciate it blatantly. Perhaps it is because what has been created there is like the low-layered hum of the community--in our everyday lives we don't realize how impressive and impacting it is until we stop to to peel away the layers and pay attention to it. It's there, sitting on the bench in the dark, even if we don't always pause to look for it.