Where's My Space?!

(Broadview Station - 10:35 to 11:12 a.m. - $1)

When I arrived at Pape Station, I heard music, so I assumed another musician was already playing there.

But on closer listen, I realized it was the Dixie Chicks.

Landslide was playing on a radio somewhere, loud enough to be heard as I descended the subway stairs. In fact, The Dixie Chicks sound quite a bit like me, and that particular song, written by Stevie Nicks, is similar to songs I write: "...time makes you bolder, even children get older, I'm getting older too".

When I realized the music was coming from a radio, I assumed the live performance space would be open for business.

Instead, it was occupied by a large newspaper and magazine rack.

The dimensions of the Gateway Newstand newspaper display happen to be the same dimensions of the Pape Station busking rectangle: that is, about 7' by 2'. The newspaper rack is about as tall as I am and looks very hard to move. The Gateway Newstand (I feel compelled to point out, again, that it's misspelled and should be "newsstand") is being renovated. The papers had to go somewhere, and I'm sure the correctly-sized rectangle of yellow dots looked just perfect.

I interrupted the contractors who were looking over blueprints for the new-and-improved 'Stand.

"Excuse me, how long will the newspaper rack be there?"

"I dunno...about a week?"

The man couldn't figure out why I was interested. When I explained that many subway musicians use that space, he seemed surprised and said he'd move it right away. In the meantime, I decided to go to Broadview station.

There was no space there, either.

As it has been since last October, the Broadview performance space was taken up by a large metal barrier, several pylons and assorted debris.

Short on time, and determined to play even for a short while, I moved the barrier out of the way. Again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I have come to view subway performance as a form of meditation.

Although my mind wants to wander into concerns about how much money I'm making or what people are thinking, over and over again I must gently return to the present moment and simply sing and play as well as I can.

The focus and calm that I must create, in myself, in order to keep singing, creates a peaceful space in my life. There is a deep security in knowing that I can be in touch with the here and now, even when my external circumstances are not at all favourable.

At Broadview, the crowd today was at best apathetic and at worst quizzical and disdainful. I am more and more convinced that there is such a thing as "group think"--that crowds take on collective moods--and that people are affected by feng shui, the design of physical spaces which, according to Chinese wisdom, affects the flow of positive and negative energy.

Broadview is known, among subway musicians, as a very difficult spot. In 45 minutes, I received one loonie. The young woman made a point of catching my eye and smiling, and of course, I will now always remember her. (Thank you.)

I didn't feel like singing in the subway today, but I went anyway. I was not rewarded in any material way, and yet I found the space I needed. Afterward, I felt revived. Calmer. Saner.

On the way home, I passed through Pape Station again. The newspaper stand hadn't budged.

The radio wasn't playing anymore, but I still heard a song playing in my head.

"I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around..."

("Landslide", by Stevie Nicks, 1975. On Fleetwood Mac's "White Album" and The Dixie Chicks' "Home".)