True story

The Point of Being Alive

--by Rachel Stafford, Original Story, Oct 08, 2012 A few weeks ago, I found myself in one of my favorite cities: Seattle, Washington. Within minutes of my arrival to Pike Place Market, I felt an overwhelming sensation that I was meant to be in that spot, at that moment, with my two children.
As we meandered around the colorful and lively market, I witnessed six connections, which I will refer to as “points of light” in the following post. These moments, later comprised as one remarkable collection, illuminated the beauty and importance of living life with open eyes, open hands, and an open heart.
This is my story …
We had just reached the outskirts of Pike Place Market when it quickly occurred to me that I would not be dictating the pace or the sights of this excursion, but rather my children would.
As if pulled by some mysterious force, they both ran directly to one particular vendor whose table was located just outside the market. Prominently displayed beneath a sign that read “Fusion of Glass” was an array of brightly colored nuggets suspended on a leather cord.
The dapper young vendor spoke kindly to my daughters and informed them that there was a $5 discount for “little people” and a $5 discount for “those who had to put up with little people.” I instantly liked his clever marketing tactic.
I watched as he showed my 5 year old daughter how the medallion became brilliantly illuminated when placed against different articles of clothing. For the next ten minutes, she proceeded to pick up every vibrant oval within reach and place it against her jacket.

“Look at this one shine, Mama!” she marveled again and again as each stone she selected radiated its own unique color tones while cupped in her small hands.
Little did I know the sparkling light of a glass pendant would be a precursor to the extraordinary events that were about to unfold.
Points of Light #1
After examining literally every medallion available at “Fusion of Glass,” my daughter decided it would be wise to see all the products the market had to offer before making her final purchase.
She took this task quite seriously, and we proceeded to visit every vendor table in the market so she could examine the unique items. She marveled at miniscule flowers made of clay, hand-painted hairpins, homemade soap, ornately beaded bracelets, silk scarves, and miniature oil paintings. The artists were extremely patient and informative, taking time to explain to my child exactly how their artwork was created.
I must admit, I was as engrossed in the selection process as she was, but not by the artifacts—which were all exquisite—but rather by the facial expressions of my child and the artists as they interacted. I witnessed a tangible connection as the passion of one person merged with interest and appreciation of another.
After an hour, I informed my daughter it was time to meet the rest of our family at the world famous fish market. As we made our way through the jovial, easy-going crowd, I noticed a troubled look on her face. I suspected she was trying to make a decision about what item from the market she would purchase.
Sure enough she said sadly, “I don’t know what to buy.”
“Oh, I bet. It is such a hard choice because there are so many neat things,” I agreed.
“No, Mama,” she corrected, “I don’t know what to buy because I don’t want to hurt any of the artists’ feelings; they made all these things with their own hands.”
What is the point of being alive if you fail to notice and applaud the beautiful efforts of someone pursuing a dream?
Points of Light #2
After delighting in seeing monstrous slabs of fresh salmon tossed around by fishmongers in white aprons and yellow rubber boots, we headed to the street along the edge of the market.
At the same moment, every member of my family looked in the direction of a captivating sound drifting from a nearby corner. Much to our surprise, we spied a musician singing and playing the guitar while aptly balancing a hoola hoop around his waist.
My daughters ran over and alternated between looks of awe and clicks of the camera—a spectacle they couldn’t wait to show their daddy upon return from the trip.