I was one of the 45,000 people who sang and danced along with Coldplay’s lead singer Chris Martin 12 days ago at BC Place. It was the band’s 106th show on a two-year world tour and it was spectacular. Meticulously choreographed, with an impressive light show, fireworks, confetti and balloons, this was a pop concert for the ages.
BC Place is perfect for a boat show or a football game, but it’s not a great venue for music, yet for two hours Martin managed to create an intimate community of music lovers. He did it by thanking us for attending despite the traffic jams, the long line ups, the high price of beer and intense crowds.
Then he acknowledged every section of the giant stadium, “I see you,” he shouted out to fans on the left and to the right, to people sitting high up and to fans on the floor. The crowd cheered back and in that moment we felt seen. It was contrived but it was effective because he connected with his audience on an emotional level; he understood that we were a packed arena made up of individuals.
Martin tapped into the same values that we strive for here in our community of South Delta. We all want to be seen, to be heard, to feel a part of something, to share our joys and our fears. We share a commonality with people in our community that unites us, and we must nourish that.
The audience rose to its feet in unison, my wristband flickered red, green, yellow and blue. I turned to the stranger beside me, “Isn’t this amazing?” “Yes it is,” screamed the young woman. She was part of my community, if only for a moment in time.
Sadly a new community has sprung up out of the thousands attending the Route 91 Harvest country music festival in Las Vegas. They have been eternally joined by tragedy and grief after a shooter killed 59 people and injured hundreds.
The stories of heroism, compassion and kindness are impressive and heartbreaking. In an instant they became a community under fire as people rushed to help total strangers, even while their own lives were in danger.
This is what communities can do under the worst of circumstances. It’s reassuring in a world that sometimes feels like it’s going crazy that we can depend on our communities, no matter what they are made of, to be there for us when tragedy strikes.
Two old men sat on their walkers in the sunshine outside the mall in Tsawwassen recently. I rushed passed by them until they yelled, “Good afternoon.” I stopped abruptly and thought about how important it is to be seen. “Yes, good afternoon, what a beautiful day.” I must have imagined it but I swear they were humming a song.
Ingrid Abbott is a broadcaster and writer who loves the lyrics to Coldplay’s Amazing Day: “We sat on a roof, named every star, you showed me a place where you can be what you are.”
