There is a park on Windsor Road in Teaneck, New Jersey that I pass every summer morning as I drive my daughter to summer camp. It is a large swath of green grass and dry summer trees. It may not even be an official "park" that belongs to the city of Teaneck or to Bergen County.
In this park, the only feature that catches my attention as I drive by everyday is a large stone that sits awkwardly on this green suburban space. It does not nearly approach the size of the town rock, called pamachapura (stone from heaven) in my town of Glen Rock. It may be a stone that rises five to six feet high. It is a stone of light brown color as sand.
The stone catches my attention every time I drive by. I, figuratively, ask it, "What is your place here?" I wonder how it came to this spot, or, conversely, how people came to this area and built up train tracks on one side and a road on the other. Two modes of high speed travel run on either side of the park area and contrast with the immobility and silence of the stone. I think about whether--no, I think about how many children have climbed the stone and sat upon it, and how some children who sat on it are now adults with their own children who look at, and even climb the stone as well.
As human beings, we are attracted to what is different, what is unique. A cactus in a desert is undeserving of notice but a cactus on top of a house catches widespread attention. What is different and unique also causes us to look, to think, to feel and, hopefully, to discover new meaning and truth.
Perhaps what is most amazing to me is that the stone, despite the fact that we drive by it twice a day, has not become mundane over time. Often, what is 'special' can become mundane after we grow accustomed to it. Here, there are more opportunities for reflection, and the word reflection is appropriate for it is likely that we see ourselves reflected in what captures our attention.
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