The Cricket in Times Square

One of my favourite books as a child was The Cricket in Times Square by George Selden. The story goes something like this:

A little cricket named Chester lives in the countryside of Connecticut. He gets caught on a subway train heading for New York City and ends up in Times Square, where he feels overwhelmed and scared. Luckily, he's found by a kind boy named Mario, who keeps him safe. Chester makes dear friends with a cat and a mischievous mouse, has adventures, and eventually everyone discovers he has a perfect memory for classical music. The sweet and beautiful little concerts he gives to commuters who stop their rushing to listen bring calm moments to a bustling and loud station.

Life has its chaotic, loud and rushed times — not unlike Times Square — and what people say and do can be confusing and unnerving, especially if your brain is wired differently than most. I know this because I am the mother of three children who have taught me that the most important thing happening in a room is often the thing nobody is looking at.

What looks like defiance is often distress. What looks like indifference is often overwhelm. What looks like a child causing problems is often a child having them — and communicating the only way they know how in that moment. When we stop long enough to look for the intention behind the behaviour, everything shifts.

We each have in us a friendly virtuoso cricket. But sometimes we really do need to stop and make the effort to listen. It takes some searching, and maybe unconventional listening, but it is definitely worth it. It could change your perspective entirely, and add a layer of appreciation for the enormity of things going on around us at any given moment. There is also a lovely and calm simplicity if we take the time to recognize the charming, unique gifts in each other.

And ultimately, we are all happy in possibly very different environments, doing very different things.

Some of us like Connecticut. Some of us like Times Square.

It's all good.