A star shines in Brooklyn

I was riding the subway on the way to work this morning when I saw a quote in a train advertisement. The quote, by George Eliot, is this, “We do not expect to be deeply moved by what is not unusual… If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.”
Maybe on a 7:45 am train is not the most common place to gain insight about life, but maybe when we reexamine those usual moments, we can learn the most about ourselves and those around us. I'd like to hear that roar, at least some of it, and I think I'm finding that here in the city.
This post is not a quirky story but it sums up what I realize this journey is becoming to me. I moved here expecting a new life full of exciting new adventures each day. The scenery has changed, but that's not the part that is moving me. Life here is not all that different than my life in Madison, but with more strangers and taller buildings. I find myself being moved by the woman reading her Hebrew prayer book on the subway ride home; by the nanny who spends more time with her charges than the parents ever will; by the former punk teenager now wearing a suit as the enlarged hole in his ear struggles to close up. These are the people who are defining my time here. The praying woman, the nanny and the grown up former punk were all there in Madison, but I when I gave them a second glance, it was only to complain about them, never to see who they really are, nor how similar I find them to me.