I flew into LA the other night and the lights went on forever. Spectacular. I’ve done this many times and since I’m a window seat guy I always have my nose pressed against the glass.

Now I know most of us have had this same experience before, (flying into NYC always has the same effect), but I just had to say it, to write about it.

Looking down on all those lights, I began to watch the cars moving on the freeways – all in perfect order, all trying to get home to their warm, cozy garages.

Then I started to think about all those drivers, the people, each with their own lives and stories, troubles and triumphs – each probably listening to the radio, perhaps singing along, perhaps not. Each one thinking completely different thoughts all at the same time.

And their energies began to all buzz and tumble and aggregate and then flow up to me sitting in that airplane seat. It was overwhelming – so much so that for some reason I burst into tears. All those people and all those thoughts… and all those separate lives.

The next day I went with my partner, Jim, to the outdoor farmer’s market in Santa Monica. He shops there every Saturday morning and whenever I’m out here (which is about once a month) I go with him to hold the bags while he shops.

This is a great job because he’s a very meticulous shopper long considering, feeling and squeezing each of those carrots or zucchinis or avocados, and while he’s doing his sorting and vegetable judging, I get to stand out there in the middle of the street and watch all the people.

My dad used to take my brother and me to the baseball game when I was a kid to watch the St. Louis Cardinals and Stan Musial (really dating myself here) and as we’d excitedly sit in the stands and watch the game, he would turn backwards in his seat and watch the fans, the people.

I must have inherited my love of people watching from him. I first came to NYC to be a director, essentially a people watcher. It is one of my skill sets – to watch and analyze human behavior. But I digress…

So there I am people watching at the Santa Monica street market and oh, what a trip. The people!  Now I’ve always prided NYC for having its share of street characters and odd balls, but yesterday morning in Santa Monica, they were all out. Most of the bums in NYC are sad, cold and lonely ghosts of people, but in Santa Monica they’re somehow jollier, more goofy, more human.

And then there’s the old ladies – I see them all as ex-movie stars who have lost their looks, but not their eccentricities, not their individuality. They carry themselves and their strawberries with great pride like Hollywood royalty.

Then there’s the wealthy rich elderly men, the CEOs, the television producers and the movie moguls (it’s a high class street fair in Santa Monica) who have dressed down because it’s Saturday morning, but they just don’t know how to wear their jeans any more, they just don’t fit into them right and they end up looking kind of fruity in their attempts to look cool. Truth is, they’d be a lot more comfortable if they’d just go home and put their suits back on.

And then there’s the chicks. Ah…  I wish they all could be California girls. The chicks and their boobs. It’s not really a place to buy vegetables, you know. It’s really a place to go and try out your new boobs. And you know something? It works! Half the people are struttin’ and the other half are oogling. I think they should rename it the Boob Fair.

OK, I know, this is an Inspirational Blog, Pete, so keep it that way, but I do find all these things highly Inspirational. People are Inspirational. That’s an absolute. All these lives. All these millions of varieties. All these shapes and sizes.

All these faces reflecting the multifarious individualities of their lives. All these souls struggling through this thing called the human condition. And then there’s India, and China and Africa…

Once again I’m overwhelmed.  Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own little life that I forget about the rest of you billions out there. Then I fly over Los Angeles and it just puts me in my place.  It reminds me that I’m just one of the ants down here on the ground. It’s humbling, but it’s a good thing. I know we’ve all had these thoughts before. I just had to write mine down.

For more inspiring music you can download
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.