My reflection spot is the middle of the Commons bridge, perched facing out over the lake. I’ve come here to reflect for Earth Lodge mostly because I’ve been coming to sit here regularly for as long as I’ve been at UR. I come to the bridge to read, to watch, to paddle around in my thoughts for a while, to dispense with thought altogether. Sometimes I’m struck by what a strange place I’ve chosen to have these moments with myself—the dribble of conversations passing behind me rarely ceases, and everything I see seems to sway to the percussion of joggers trotting by. Maybe it’s counter-productive to seek a rest from the frenzy of it all, and to seek solitude, really, in such a public space. But I think my spot on the bridge has been one of the most valuable sources of comfort, observation and genuine quiet that I’ve found here.
My affection for the bridge is partly visual. Each grey leaf whispers to me from across the lake with stunning clarity; the sky edges into dinnertime purple and the water answers, in amber and ink, getting heavier. Even if I don’t stop to sit, to walk across the bridge and give myself wholly to seeing these details (I’m thirsty for them, always) enriches my days with its constancy and its surprise. The concrete much hotter or much colder than the air, the lacy layers of bird calls and breezes, the tug of awareness that immediately behind me all this dazzle turns to cold industrial dripping—engaging my senses in an afternoon on the bridge never fails to electrify me, somehow.
I think the bridge’s most valuable asset as a reflection spot in this context, though, will be what it allows me to observe in the ways humans interact with their environment. The bridge can be a jarringly direct illustration of a community choosing not to be truly present in its natural surroundings, shuffling from building to building, gazing down at its shoes and its screens. It’s a reminder not to fall into that ambivalent rushing, and also a reminder not to generalize, never to assume I’m the only one feeling the wonder, breathless under the yellow moon. I can’t imagine a more ideal spot from which to quietly watch my community interact with the body of water at its heart.