Bazaar: “An open-air market, with many vendors, and products of all types.”
The chaotic here and there and lack of (obvious) order abound. Somehow I’m in this place on a Sunday afternoon. How did I get here?! Annoyance begins to creep in.
Where am I? Istanbul? The Arbat? Lagos? London? Nope, I’m at Costco; and more specifically, I’m at a store location near my house, but one I don’t visit too often. I’m pushing a cart in the afternoon fray, and seemingly no one else is too concerned about “right-of-way”; it’s the give and take of humanity in full swing.
Even as I feel the stretch, the inner twang, struggling with the chaos, I catch myself, as the image of open-air bazaar comes to mind. I catch myself in mid-annoyance…silly man. “You’re such a hypocrite”, I tell myself.
If I were IN a bazaar in any of those cities or 10,000 other places, I’d love it. I’d love it because I’d be experiencing a new place, people, culture, blah blah blah…
And so in an instant, errr, maybe a few moments more than an instant, and my attitude shifts just enough to correct, right-size, and reset.
“How bazaar, how bazaar…” …GOOD.