big picture/small picture

I was always fascinated by those giant pictures made of of thousands of small pictures. I even tried once to make one. But I couldn't see the big picture. I saw faces. Faces of friends, family, even complete strangers, but I could not do away with the pieces to create a larger work.


At first I thought that must mean I am a small picture kind of person. I have since learned that I am nothing of the sort. I don't do details. In my last two jobs I have struggled with remembering all those little detail. I have the over all idea, but I forgot something here, another thing there.


I must, I suppose, dwell somewhere in between, (story of my life) not really catching all the details, not really getting the big picture. But I have moments where I come close to one or the other. There are those few times, when looking at a picture or a person everything seems clear, or I seem to get a deeper sense of what or who they are. Likewise, I occasionally get a glimpse of the larger world around me.


Like the other day, as I rode the bus in to work. I saw an old man, coming down a set of stairs, a young man, shaking leaves out of some bottle crates, and a little boy playing at push ups in a car wash lot. As I sat there in my seat, I began to get a glimpse of the world around me. How many thousands of people do I pass every day? And how many do I see? Three. Three people that made an impact on me, the thousands of others slip by like drops of rain, significant only in great numbers, and then only in registering their presence.


Always we are ourselves, living our life every minute of every day. But occasionally we get to take part in someone else's life. Sometimes we are more than just ourselves. Sometimes, we are, family, seeing and living as a group. Sometimes we are friends, getting deep inside the world and emotions of others. And sometimes, we are a crowd, feeling a little of the combined consciousness, mind, and power of many people. But mostly we are one, just ourselves, staring out the window, unable to see the forest for all the trees.

I wondered, as my bus careened along, what was I to those people? Did the old man coming down the stairs see a girls face staring back at him from a bus window? Or just traffic? Did the young man see another human being with acknowledgement in her eyes? Or just feel the breeze of cars passing. Did the little boy look up and see someone watching him play? Or did he only hear the sounds of car horns, more distant to him than his imaginary army base. Did anyone see me? Or was I just a drop of water in a bucket?

Maybe I was the girl running for the bus. The person in your bus seat. The stranger in the crosswalk. But did you see me, or did you notice me? Was I one out of millions? Or was I someone who caused you to think about the little pictures that make up the big one. Did I walk past you before you even knew I was there, or did you go home and blog about me?

P.S. If you saw me, could you tell me how I looked? because I wasn't really sure about that outfit . . .