Keeping the Flame

Art deco sconce
Financial District, Boston MA

Walking back to the car after attending an open house at an architectural firm's spectacular new office in downtown Boston, a row of these sconces caught my attention. The image doesn't do justice to their imposing dimensions– more than five feet high, and pitched outward nearly 40 degrees from their second-story perches– nor their provision of brooding illumination over an otherwise nondescript sidewalk. By the same token, this post may not do justice to the feeling of resonance that suddenly emerged as I saw in this architectural element a metaphor for the state of mind in which I've recently found myself– feeling somewhat heavy, certainly stuck in a measure of brooding, yet also faithful in my potential for illumination.

My close friends and brothers are aware of some of the lights and shadows that play across the contours of my daily life, and this week has seen plenty of both. As I begin to consider graduate programs for future years of study in theology, and perhaps geography as well, I feel both enthusiasm for a return to the life of a full-time student as well as anxiety over choosing an area of specialization in the absence of clearly refined, specific, and well-articulated topics of personal interest and general applicability. As I gratefully accept invitations to guide friends in discerning long-distance moves, mostly for graduate programs of their own, I feel the buoyant enthusiasm of sharing their excitement over good decisions. And while I'll be thrilled to welcome two good friends back to Boston at the end of the summer, I occasionally perceive a dulling sense of stasis in my assignment (made and accepted with a similar measure of confidence and faith) to remain at Holy Cross for another year.

On the other hand, I notice a gentle radiance and soothing sense of peace as I consider anew the more constant elements of my life, especially enduring friendships. Tomorrow, I'll travel to Cape Cod to visit the increasingly infirm grandmother of a close friend; having grown close to this friend's family over the years, I endeavor to make the trip whenever she and her mother make their own respective voyages to spend time with their gracefully aging relative. In whatever mood I find myself– thankfully, there's time for inner clouds to part during the drive through southeastern Massachusetts– I find that such visits are always appreciated to a degree that readily outweighs my initial assessment of what my presence offers. And I often find my inner light strengthened and amplified by the compassion, interconnectedness, and love that I witness when these three remarkable and inspiring individuals gather.

That's one of many sources for the flame that I strive to sustain, however cold and dark I may feel in body, mind, or spirit. I'm not sure whether or not the architects and designers had any of this in mind when constructing this feature of Boston's urban landscape, but I'm thankful that such magnificent sconce retain their power to elegantly light the way.