I live in a condominium that’s wrapped around a meticulously kept central courtyard. To leave the complex, I must pass in front of a ledge holding a neat row of cacti and bonsai. Very Zen. But right below the plants is a yellow broom leaning up against the wall, bristles up. When I first noticed it, I assumed that the concierge had simply forgotten to put the broom in its place. But, subsequentialy, every day when I left the building, the scene was always the same. Now, after years of leaving here, I’m so accustomed to the broom under the ledge that I would miss it if it were to vanish. Because now, for me, it’s like a painting hanging on the wall.
Aesthetics is a form of perception.
Related: 100 Zen Stories
“You don’t take a photograph, you make it.” Ansel Adams