Dear Friends,
The battery in my watch finally died. I realized it was on its last leg a few Sunday’s ago, when a congregant came up to me after service and informed me that we had gone about fifteen minutes over our usual end time of 11:00 am. Glancing down at my watch, I saw that it showed only a few minutes’ past the hour. Since I had consulted the same watch at 10:00 am, it occurred to me that worship service not only had ended late, it had started late, too.
So, yesterday, I took my watch to be repaired. There is an independent jewelry store near my home that, according to the sign in the window, has been in business since 1964. It’s been my experience that jewelry stores aren’t often bustling places, and this one was no exception. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the tick-tock of three oak grandfather clocks standing against the back wall. The glass cases were gleaming with diamond rings, pearl necklaces, and other jewels. Barry White’s “The First, the Last, My Everything” was playing softly in the background, which I thought was a perfect choice given the upcoming Valentine’s Day holiday. I was the only customer in the place.
An attractive, middle-aged saleswoman wearing perfect makeup and a smart light blue suit took my watch and wisked it to a back room for the jeweler to examine. Behind the door, I could hear machines lightly whirring and what sounded like small hammers tapping on metal. I imagined that there were jewelry elves back there – bearded, with pointed hats – polishing stones and pounding silver and gold.
I sat quietly on a stool near one of the cases and noticed the rain dripping off the awning outside the front window. An elderly woman came into the shop with her daughter and asked the very tall young man who emerged from the Elf Room to remove all the charms from her heavy-looking bracelet.
As I sat and waited for my watch – listening to the clocks tock, to Barry’s baritone, and to the elves tapping – I felt this lovely, peaceful feeling come over me. My watch wasn’t the only thing that had come to a halt. Time was standing still for me, too. For a few moments, I could just be an element of my surroundings, fully attuned to my environment, without the need to move any agenda forward. In the Taoist tradition, this is known as wu wei, which is sometimes translated to mean “the action of non-action” or “going with the flow.”
My watch, it turned out, wouldn’t be ready until the next day. I, however, left the shop that afternoon with a fully recharged battery.
Yours,
Terry