presence

I immediately knew, walking into the crowded gallery, that I would sit with them. They drew me to the space just in front of them, like a weary forest traveler drawn to the promise of warmth in front of a hearth in a strangely familiar hut appearing as if from nowhere in the graying light of dusk. As it was the first Sunday of the month, it was Free Admission day at the Asian Museum of Art at the Civic Center, towards which I walked on my long early afternoon constitutional yesterday. I fondly remembered the arhat I had found (or who found me) there sometime last summer, in July's free Sunday. It was when I was engrossed in Richard Powers' The Overstory, and it was a fitting thing to encounter, that arhat in the corner of the large gallery, and beside which I sat zazen for a while, oblivious to the flow of museum-goers. Same thing yesterday. As it happens, there was a low wooden bench in front of the two life-size figures behind the glass case and it's where I sat zazen. Initially,…