The Poet and The Performer: Chapter 3 — Wishful Streetlights

As I locked up the observatory, the sun had begun its definitive march down the sky, still providing plenty of light for the campus to bask in. The observatory keys plunged into the lock of the magnificent mahogany door and shuttered politely when I turned the key clockwise. “Such a fine mechanism,” I thought, “the way a few key teeth mesh to meet a lock’s rockers and align the metal into a single, turnable piece.” These were typical thoughts of mine, finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, everyday things. These thoughts always made me smile in self-awareness and self-appreciation, giving me an internal glow that I can find peace and substance in the details of my day-to-day life no matter how many times I have lived it.

The shuttered lock stayed at rest as I took the key back to my pocket, and with a pull on the door handle, I left the observatory steps with reassurance and a sense of security. Each step away from the mahogany doors was a step closer to the banner, and with each step did I bring with me the reassuring feeling that everything was neatly filed away, adequately locked up, and ready for my return on Tuesday, thanks to Monday being a special holiday and giving the city özgürlük, freedom, for it was to be a holiday unlike any other. As my feet left the concrete walk to meet the grass did I find my thoughts in transition, too, fixating on the colorful banner waving gently in the wind. The natural gestures of the breeze breathed even more life into the colors and characters printed on the canvas. My approach felt relaxed yet energetic in a contrasting but cohesive way, as if I were a bottle containing lightning and I was both the bottle and the lightning. The crowds around the banner were no less than any other day, even at this hour while classes and work were in full swing. From up in the observatory, the crowds seemed like a sizable bunch of people, maybe the equivalent of a single school bus field trip, but in that short time that I walked the staircase from the fifth floor down, dimmed the grand hall lights, and said my thank yous at the beautiful white marble alter to Ak Ana — the goddess of creation — the crowds around the banner had grown. My thank yous at the altar to Ak Ana had become a self-empowering habit, a practice that seemed to blossom out of thin air. The observatory was built by spiritual educators who migrated from Istanbul, and the craftsmen and women thought a divine spirit deserved to bless all those who cared to enter and work there, so Ak Ana was chosen to be both the welcoming spirit and guardian of the building. I, for one, appreciate a well-intentioned thought and have total acceptance for when a benign spirit is so tastefully designed and crafted to empower the spirits of all who meet her. After all, are we not all spirits living in a physical reality? Saying hello and thank you with her has become a part of most of my days and always gives me a moment with myself to appreciate the life I have been given, and she always has time to listen to my thank yous.

My thoughts of the goddess of creation and the immigrants who brought her wisdom from thousands of miles away carried me across the courtyard, and before I knew it, I was standing at the edge of the crowds. At this level, there seemed to be many more people than the single busload that I had estimated earlier, so large in fact that I was still a good 10 meters away from the base of the banner, but the title was easily readable, stating, “Welcome to Toronto’s Circus of Life” in dazzling, yellow letters emboldened with what looked gilding that was hand-brushed around the heading letters. The crowd was fluid, coming in momentarily, capturing the artistic circus invitation on their cellphones and then disappearing into the crowd's edges and off on their own ways, making it very easy for me to move toward the front of the sea of people. And just as quickly as I found myself standing before the spectacular banner did I notice that it was not printed at all, but rather a mesmerizing field of brushstrokes filling every curve and straight. It was no wonder why the sign captivated so many people every day; it was a true work of art. One not mimicable by AI or machinery. The canvas billowed gently in the breeze, weighed down by the pounds of oil paint that flowed and bubbled up to represent the characters and excitement that the circus was offering. And at the bottom, in neat, precise cursive, was the full invitation,

Come one, come all, members of the community and friends travelling from afar, we invite you to visit a brilliant life-changing spectacle. We are a one-of-a-kind theatrical with something for everyone. Find yourselves in our glorious tent where we house the most talented people and beings from around the globe! From jugglers and clowns to poets and acrobats and an assortment of unimaginable characters who come from a world unlike any that you have ever encountered. This weekend, live, brought to you by Ringmaster Mrs. Toronto herself, we invite you to join us for a soul-inspiring, spirited event concluding on All Journeys Day eve with our farewell event, The Streetlights of Yeryüzü. May grace and good fortune find us all, and for all who interest in joining, find us situated at the Mosaic of Youth, located on the corner of Juan Ponce de León Ave and Mesopotamia St.

Blown away by the colorful invitation could I feel my bottled-up excitement flow all the way from my feet to my hands, through my heart, and so strongly that my ears began to ring with the rush of blood and adrenaline. Images of acrobats flying through the air and a poet alone in the spotlight flickered across my imagination, and guesses of beasts and magical beings skipped across my thinking, “An assortment of unimaginable characters who come from a world unlike any that you have ever encountered.” Were they gargantuan snakes? Actual fairies? An extraterrestrial species of intellectual beings? Heck, even if they were blobs like the amorphous creature in Flubber, that would still be a soul-inspiring event to go chase after new discovery. No wonder so many people flocked to this banner. The colors, the curated words, the sheer curiosity that was invoked were enough to interest anyone, and especially those who already had an appetite for adventure and life.

At this distance from the banner, no more than two arm lengths away could I now see the entire thing in all its glory. And as if to reassure any spectators that going to Toronto’s Circus of Life was the correct decision for their weekend, there was a smaller, attached sign waving beyond the bottom of the banners in dazzling yellow letters, gilded in beautiful gold flashing with the words, “Why Not?”