The gray exuded warmth and calm.
If you live in the Boston area, I urge you to take a field trip to the Museum of Fine Arts in the next month or so and explore The Art of the Americas Wing. (Next best would be go on line on mfa.org.)
I went yesterday with a group of long-time friends, one of whom organized a tour of the new wing given by a exceptional docent, who generously shared her love and knowledge of the MFA.
As I sit in silence reflecting on the day, I’m am aware that the day wasn’t silent or simple, nor was I in solitude. And yet, the entire experience offered a balance to my time at the cottage when I sit in silence, solitude and simplicity.
We conversed as friends do, and yet we were calm and thoughtful.
Although we shared a common experience, we each absorbed it in our special solitary place.
Learning about the space, (how to get from floor to floor, what was displayed where and why) at first seemed extremely complicated. And yet there was an immense order to the entire new wing and it’s relationship with the rest of the museum.
I don’t want to live at the cottage all the time, and I certainly am grateful for situations when threads of silence and conversation, solitude and community, and simplicity and complexity weave a common cloth. Yesterday was one of those days.
I went yesterday with a group of long-time friends, one of whom organized a tour of the new wing given by a exceptional docent, who generously shared her love and knowledge of the MFA.
As I sit in silence reflecting on the day, I’m am aware that the day wasn’t silent or simple, nor was I in solitude. And yet, the entire experience offered a balance to my time at the cottage when I sit in silence, solitude and simplicity.
We conversed as friends do, and yet we were calm and thoughtful.
Although we shared a common experience, we each absorbed it in our special solitary place.
Learning about the space, (how to get from floor to floor, what was displayed where and why) at first seemed extremely complicated. And yet there was an immense order to the entire new wing and it’s relationship with the rest of the museum.
I don’t want to live at the cottage all the time, and I certainly am grateful for situations when threads of silence and conversation, solitude and community, and simplicity and complexity weave a common cloth. Yesterday was one of those days.