August 2015

Black birds

I went to the Zen Center twice this week, leading sitting on Sunday night then giving consulting interviews on Tuesday. Whenever I settle on a cushion at the Zen Center, it feels like coming home and plugging in. Whereas the rest of my life might be running me ragged, going to the Zen Center and focusing on only one thing helps me calm, collect, and renew myself.

Minds closed eyes blown

I sometimes imagine consciousness as being like a beam of light or a stream of water. When a flashlight shines widely, its brightness is diffused; when rivulets branch and wander, their stream weakens to a trickle. When you tightly contain either a beam or stream, however, you experience its true power: focused light becomes laser-sharp, and concentrated water both stings and penetrates.

During the school year, my energy is scattered among obligations, and during the summer, my attention is relaxed and diffuse. When I settle on a cushion at the Zen Center, however, I feel a sudden surge as I harness my energies, reining them in like a large, tractable horse with ample abilities to either prance or pull.

Fresh flowers

Today J and I went to the Boston Public Market, a year-round, indoor market for local farmers, foodies, and artisans that recently opened at Haymarket, where farmers have been selling fish and produce for years. The outdoor stalls at Haymarket are loud and chaotic, and the indoor stands at the Boston Public Market are equally busy, with passersby browsing, tasting samples, and otherwise enjoying the ambiance.

Sweet Lydia's

Although J and I were technically “just looking,” we ended up buying chocolate bars from Taza Chocolate, candies from Sweet Lydia’s, and a jar of wildflower honey from the Boston Honey Company. J also bought a fieldstone coaster from American Stonecraft: now, whenever he sets a cup of tea on his desk, he’ll remember the story of how the stone beneath his mug was dug from a New Hampshire farm field, then cut and polished into a work of art.

American Stonecraft

It’s funny how knowing the story behind a stone, chocolate bar, or jar of honey makes that thing more valuable: instead of miraculously appearing at the grocery store, a square of Sweet Lydia’s maple bacon caramel was made by a real human being. Although we weren’t in the market for fresh flowers or locally brewed beer, J and I enjoyed browsing the Public Market’s embarrassment of local riches. A public market is a feast for the senses, regardless of how much you buy.

Echo Bridge, not far from Echo Bridge

Recently the city of Newton has decorated selected utility boxes with historic images of area neighborhoods, giving bored pedestrians and motorists stuck in traffic something to look at while they wait for their light to change. The utility box at the corner of Chestnut and Elliot Streets in Newton Upper Falls, for instance, features a vintage postcard of Echo Bridge, which is right nearby, and a utility box at a busy corner in West Newton shows a nineteenth century street scene.

West Newton then and now

Utility boxes are, of course, utilitarian, filled with wires and switches and other necessary electrical gadgetry: most of the time, I walk right past utility boxes without even noticing them, much less considering what is either inside or on them. But these days, I find myself searching for electrical boxes as I drive around doing errands, trying to spot and collect the decorated ones like so many Easter eggs.

Great blue heron on electrical box

I suppose if you have to have utility boxes, you might as well make them interesting to look at, a bit of artfulness to complement their utility. Even an unsightly box becomes interesting when you stick vintage photos on it: an invitation to imagine what might have happened at this very intersection a century or so ago.

A village of traditions