Yesterday, Maureen Doallas posted a video of an aria of La Traviata being sung at the market in Valencia. The produce venders / singers come out one at a time from behind vegetables and fruit, in their aprons, to mingle with the puzzled crowd. The atmosphere slowly becomes attuned with the offering. Wine is handed out; hands touching hands. By the end people are wiping tears, smiling and singing along with the musical manna falling around them.
One of my favorite words (Italian) is lagniappe; a beneficient kind of extra, an extra we weren't expecting but immensely glad to have.
I don't have to crane my neck or get my knickers in a knot to have lagniappe. I don't have to race or shove anyone to have it. I don't have to worry when the next time is. I can't buy it. It doesn't store up or save. I only have to be here. Or there. It will find me.
It is always a surprise, generously provided by the loving hand of the Artist who created artists who create art.
To enjoy it is simply to notice. I wonder if noticing is one of the deepest and most profound forms of worship.