Two weeks ago, I headed to the park to play a set. I did not feel like doing it. Long week. I forced myself out the door with the rig. It was either sing or mope around the house. I set to work, feeling better with each passing bar. A few songs in, I saw my mate, Brian, who lives at the Woodgreen building next door. When I last saw him, he was talking to me from a gurney while being loaded into an ambulance. This afternoon, he was smiling and waving at me from across the street. Brian’s been a champion of my music since we connected a few years ago. With a twinkle in his eye, he calls me the new Gordon Lightfoot, which I love. It was good to see him back out and about.

Regardless of what songs I sing when I play, I always close with The Beautiful Season. It’s a track off my last record, and it’s been a closer in the live set for a few years now. It’s about the importance of being with each other. About halfway through, I noticed a woman crouching near one of the benches nearby. I thought she was collecting butts, an action that didn’t match her appearance. Looking more closely, I realized she was caring for an injured pigeon. Her family arrived and started helping. After an emotional week, in the middle of singing this song, seeing people stop to care, I nearly wept. When the number was done, I went over to thank them for stopping. They were unsure of what to do. I called 311 and they notified Animal Control. Then the long wait began.

While this family was comforting the pigeon, a guy materialized out of nowhere. “Hey, were you just singing? I was taking a nap in the grass over there and woke up to your soothing sounds.” We spoke for a while. Right into the deep stuff. No small talk. Family, relationships, partners, exes, work, life. He told me he came up in Scarborough, now lived up north, but came to Toronto a couple of times a month to get his city fix. Upon saying our farewells, he finished with “God bless you.” He didn’t strike me as a religious man, nor am I, though I’m always touched when someone says this. It doesn’t matter who or what you believe in. To me, this blessing is universal.

The helpful family soon left, but returned a short while later and wrapped the bird in a t-shirt and left some fresh picked wildflowers. I sat with our injured ward, seeing it grow weaker and weaker. I eventually took him/her home to wait for the city workers to come and pick up.

We are met with angels everywhere. After a difficult week of struggling to return and return again to a workable baseline, I was filled up by all of these experiences. The afternoon started with me not wanting to sing. It became so much bigger than the music, while the songs were the catalyst for all of that connection.

I was reminded, not only why I make music, but of our humanity. Of the ways in which we are beautiful and caring. Of the best parts of us.

As always, thanks for reading.

K. xo