The piano and the mint Viscount man

Continuing this week's 'Reclaim the Throne' mini-campaign to take back those moments of opportunity (to rest, write, read, make, ponder, plan, etc) from big tech, I had two beauties in Manchester Piccadilly Station earlier.

I felt happily fried after an intense 4-hour Pit Stop coaching session, and heard communal piano music. I walked over and drank it all in for a minute or so. This guy played and sang, but what really wove magic was his sway, his body language, full of abandon as he rode from side to side, up and down, snapping his head this way and that as his flow state transported him somewhere far away from here, somewhere inside him and everywhere at once.

Then, in less epic fashion, the man at the gate to platform 10 didn't just scan my e-ticket, but smiled, arched around the gate, and pointed at the idling train.

"That's your train there." His thick Manc accent, full of something close to affection, caressed me with as much pride as the way my nan used to curate and unveil a plate of diabolical filth - mint viscount, Gold bar, Penguin biscuits. And somehow, it landed in the same way.

If I had to pick him out of a lineup now, I couldn't. It was about the moment, the intent, not the man. I'll remember the way he made me feel. The old me would have stayed on his phone without knowing why, missing that feeling altogether, that observation.

And it all looped back to something my client and I discussed. We spoke of the challenge of being sensitive in a crazed, snarling, changing world. We both, once upon a time, wanted to change the world alone, warriors overlooking the need for our tribes. But now, a little older, we reflected on the cult of individualism, how it can throttle progress and creativity's potential. In design, like many industries and organisations, we default to celebrating individuals as changemakers. But let's face it, creativity is a communal condition. No matter how big a role one person has, ultimately, it's nourished and made possible by many. In a culture that celebrates creativity in its broadest sense, we all win and don't need an award to hoist.

I'd like to know more about the man on the piano, the member of staff who rose above his job description with no need for a gold star. But these were more important than singular moments.

They were a part of something bigger, and I'm happier and more inspired having looked up to notice them.

Reclaim the Throne!