Many years ago, I found myself trudging through a winter day in Cambridge, MA during a weekend in Boston by myself. Hurrying away from the bustle of Harvard Square and all the annoying college kids, I found myself on a quieter stretch of sidewalk, where I came upon a little store whose entrance was draped in strings of bells and colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind. Seeking respite and peace, I ducked into the small space, where a man sat behind a little register, and two tiny rooms were filled with clothing and prayer bowls and Tibetan objects.
Tibetan flute music played over the sound system, filling the store with the calming sounds you may hear below. A stick of incense emitted curls of smoke, which drifted into every corner of the store – not overbearing or heavy, like incense can sometimes be, but light and airy and cleansing.
On that day, the man behind the counter taught me how to tie a scarf for maximum warmth, and I found this collection of Tibetan music. I play it every winter, around this time, when one needs some solace from the lengthy drudgery of the dark season. It instils a calm, partly from remembered quiet nights in the Boston condo, where I’d drift to sleep in the warm comfort of that brick fortress, partly from newer memories conjured from evenings of tea, with warm light and warm blankets on the conversation couch after a dinner by Andy.
The cup was a gift from Suzie from her trip to Denmark this past summer. Andy uses it for coffee, but once in a while I’ll use it for tea, especially on winter evenings when something precious is appreciated. A Friday night in February feels like just such an occasion.
