I just witnessed courage.

There’s a market in London, Ontario which bustles with life each Saturday and Sunday. The majority of vendors are staples - long-term tenants who you see each week, selling their goods or services. Many of these are side-businesses for shops with a larger location elsewhere in the city - a butcher, a cheese monger, a couple of bakeries - while others are more like hobbies which seem to generate a modest income on the weekends, while the operators chat and socialize with the community.

On top of the vendors, there are temporary pop-ups which change every month or two. These might be people testing out their ideas for a larger business, travelling entrepreneurs, aliens on the run from the government, or anyone else you can imagine - and I *do* imagine…

There was the woman a couple of weeks ago selling small paintings, clay earrings, and other bits and pieces she’d created in order to get the attention of the vendor across the hall who sold WWII era pins and models. They exchanged glances every so often, with the older man wandering over to buy a trinket or two, so he could also buy what he *really* wanted - a few moments to flirt with the woman he told his friends at the legion about. I can only assume they fell in love and eloped, since her table is gone, and the man’s shop has been closed for a couple of weekends now.

Then there was the small family running a crepe shop. One of the kids would run the till, the mother made the crepes, and the younger kid scooped the fruit onto the plate and brought it out to the customers. One can only assume they’re working to develop the perfect crepe recipe so they can appease the evil fairy which kidnapped their husband and father - everyone knows evil fairies love crepes and will give anything for the illusive perfect crepe.

Anyway, I love this place.

It’s one of those centers of modern Western culture which I cherish in the age of box stores and online shopping. We are social creatures - to varying degrees - and having these kinds of markets are what keep communities alive and buzzing as we shop, explore, and generally bump into each other on the weekend.

One final thing you can find at this market is music.

Each week there are a few spots where musicians perform. The market office takes applications and people can reserve a spot to play for an hour in their chosen spot - or even a few, if they like. I’m happy to say that the officials in the market office aren’t terribly distinguishing whose applications are approved.

I’ve heard professional jazz duets playing a variety of instruments in their one-hour set. A clarinet and guitar one song, and a violin and small electric piano the next. They’re here almost every week, and I love their music.

I’ve also heard budding young musicians, like the cello player this morning who sounded like she stepped right out of yo-yo ma’s apprenticeship and into this random little market. This young woman was an excellent player, who will no-doubt play for far bigger audiences than the caffeine-filled writer in the corner, and the kids playing with a toy piano in front of her. The chaos of kids, and a beautiful cello make for a wonderful pairing with my coffee and scone I got from the bakery stall downstairs.

Once in a while, though, you’ll hear a rare treat…

Today, after the young cellist was done, a young man sat down in his designated seat, took out a modest guitar, plopped a ratty stack of papers on the ground, and began to play.

He was pretty quiet, obviously nervous, and not terribly good, but he had another quality that you can likely guess by the title of this post. He was brave.

To go into the world, sit down, and play your favourite tunes in front of complete strangers takes courage - real courage. He could have backed out at any point between filling out his application and sitting down in that ratty little chair. He could have, but he didn’t.

He didn’t play long, and not many people noticed, but I’m not exaggerating when I say he was inspiring. It’s been a while since I’ve posted a piece here, but seeing and hearing this young man gave me a kick in the pants. There are no shortage of pieces for me to post, or ideas to write about - fear is the only thing which holds me back.

Today, I was reminded what courage looks like. After seeing it, I’m reminded how good it can feel to face fear and exercise my own courage.

The next time you see someone exercising courage, I hope you’re reminded too. Or at least, throw them a nod or a smile in acknowledgement of theirs.