Park Muse

The black, gnarly, iron, elbow-rest of the green-painted, wood-planked park bench beckoned as I walked by. I answered its call, sat, leaned back into the hard slats and looked out onto the long, sensuously sloping grass meadow for which I now had a box seat. The meadow’s edges were lined by a stone path and trees - some bare, many with brown, olive, and apricot vestiges of autumn foliage.

It was an unusually pleasant mid-December day in Brooklyn. Prospect Park, Central Park’s baby brother, seemed a good place to enjoy it. The sky was light blue, painted here and there with brushstrokes of white. The air was cool with warm undertones infused by the bright sunshine.

Thoughts formed, interrupting the reverie.

A familiar voice, spoke at the microphone in my headspace, “Why are you here, doing nothing, at 2pm on a Tuesday? Why are you not doing something constructive, towards whatever it is we think is important?”

Another voice took the mike, “Would be cool to own an estate whose grounds look like this, aye? Eh. That would take a lot of money and work and time. Sad. Will never happen.”

An exchange from a parable that I’d been told decades prior, sprung to mind:

A man scurried purposefully alongside a river. He passed another man who was reclining, feet propped on a large rock, a wide- brimmed, battered hat tilted forward shading his face from the sun, hands folded on his chest, fingers interlocked.

“Why are you lying here in the middle of a workday? Why aren’t you working?” asked the scurrier.

“Where are you scurrying to”? replied the lounger.

“To work, of course.”

“Why are you working?”

“To have money.”

“Why do you want money?”

“So I can have food, clothing, and shelter.”

“You don’t have those?”

“I do, but I want to have more money, so I don’t have to work, so I can enjoy life.”

“How would you enjoy life?”

“I’d lie by a riverside and listen to the water rushing by.”

“So, I skipped all your steps, and am enjoying life. I’m living.”

The parable settled to the back, and the park’s view evoked another thought: I could, using considerable resources, create enough money. Then, with considerable effort, I could find an ideal property, purchase it, design and create a beautiful landscape, and maintain and enjoy it. And yet, here I am, enjoying a curated, designed and maintained landscape without having expended time or money. Same experience both ways. Difference is, in one I solely own the land and no one else may enjoy it without my permission; in the other, I use it while others use it as well, and when I don’t use it it’s not mine or my concern. One way, I enjoy what is shared by all. The other way, I enjoy something I made for myself, but the process to that drastically reduces time for its enjoyment.

Another familiar thought stepped into the limelight:

Some imagine and wish for a luxurious mansion on an exclusive mountaintop, which, once they have, then wish to share it with close friends. The friends sit, wine, dine and converse, having a high-quality time, which they could also have on milk crates in a parking lot, or on blankets by the sea shore. The primary objective and pursuit is quality engagement time with close loved ones. Where, is of considerably less importance, unless they all make it so, but even if they do, what they’re really still after is the shared connection, not the where. So, the lifelong endeavor to get the mountaintop mansion is almost a waste of time. Just get together with your buddies when and wherever you can.

You don’t need a glamorous venue. And just enjoy something glamorous that presents itself. You don’t need to own it.

An actual smile slowly unfolded on my face.

I responded to the assembled internal speakers: “I am enjoying moments in my life, seated comfortably on a perfectly situated, well-made bench, taking in a fantastic, million-dollar view on a glorious weathered day. Why am I not doing what?”