Just stewarding the cadences of the day today.

Yesterday, in a small cafe on Haight street, which I’ve been hiding in for years, I was reading a book about how to write stories by Eudora Welty, when a short story happened around me.
The Japanese girl beside me told me she had just gotten out of serious surgery this morning, and felt today was her first day on earth. Then a famous comedian walked in and everyone lit up. She preceded to tell me, over great mediteranean crepes, that she had designed a kimono, and just before her surgery, got to show it to Michael Khor, a famous designer, in a private viewing.
That it was her mother’s dream that her daughter would design traditional Kimono’s in a new style, and that someone would notice and help her. It happened, and then she almost died this morning. This was the first day of the rest of her life. This was not her last supper, but her first, she said.
Gabriel my friend who runs the restaurant came over and said this girl had a special light in her, and that he could see it even from across the counter. Steve Carell then returns and starts making jokes with everyone as we eat. Gabriel’s wife gets him to do a hilarious video for one of their daughters, which he happily complies with, and nails it.
Then two homeless friends, I’ve known for years, come in telling stories of hanging out with Robin Williams, and they quote his whole monologue verbatim. For a moment, we were all one, and all stars, equally shining in our specific stories.
After it died down, i went back to my book and read: “The writer themselves, studies how to write about life really well-that is with Love and Grace for each character-while actually simultaneously learning to live well, to be a character in the novel they are in. Writing develops empathy with our humanness and ultimately, if its great writing, we end in the tone of Love towards everyone, including ourselves.”
Nice little confluence and convergence yesterday—sometimes we are both writing and in the big story of life.