Written: Feb 1, 2019 | Updated: Nov 3, 2024

Lunch break sacred places

At each of my computer jobs, I wound up finding a nearby place that became a home base of sorts, on lunch breaks - my break from people and screens. This happened viscerally and unintentionally. Apparently, my mind and body required it and I abided.

Typically I consider myself terrible at maintaining new habits.

This one stuck because the need was deep. Repetition in a routine like this deepens your awareness of a place. The place becomes a character in the story and a relationship between the two of you begins. You pick up new observations with each visit and a mental replica gets constructed in the psyche, with a layer of detail added on each visit. This layering isn’t linear; instead, complexity deepens in unpredictable ways, like humans.

When I was thinking about writing this post, previous sacred places from my past bubbled up as landmarks in my timeline. Countless tree forts, the weird attic that had a tiny door off my bedroom… most of them were outside. Maybe that’s because indoors was too populated, too busy, too disconnected. I had a drive to create little worlds that were better with a few buds, some were better in solitude.

Below is a snapshot of places like this in adulthood.

Brady People ID, Burlington, MA

I don’t have photos from this era because this was before phones had a decent camera and my lunch spots weren’t photogenic anyway. They took place either in the office or browsing Newbury Comics and Barns & Noble.

Meandering the aisles was darn fulfilling and I’d always exit with my mental batteries topped off. I’d take an hour to flip through the new heavy-paged Rosenfeld Media book on ux or css. This era was also the dawn of podcasting. I’d often listen to shows like radiolab while scarfing down wendy’s dollar menu items. Though more commercial and not sacred, these were my retreats.

Brady People ID, Billerica, MA

The office moved and more of my breaks were spent outside exploring. This north-central region of Massachusetts was new to me. I don’t remember having one specific spot, but I got that hip new Instagram app and an even hipper panorama app which inspired capturing photos.

A low mist covering sillhouetted dead stags behind a clouded blue sky — Creepy morning mist next to the parking lot

A red coca cola plastic bin on the edge of a parking lot — Coke break

A large clump of grasses hiding an HVAC unit in an office park in the fall — Ornamental, probably non-native grass

Two mailboxes one over the other, mounted to a large tree — Four, two

From foreground to background, parking lot lines, a row of yellow grasses, telephone lines, then a house — Windy lunch spent in the car

a feeding gym farmer, general contractor, sign above an abandoned shop — Vacated shop

mostly blue sky, with a vast empty wooden pergola in the lower part of the photo — Quiet garden center

panoramic fisheye effect on a spring-brown tree-filled forest path — Relishing the panoramic capabilities of a 2011 phone

photograph looking into the sun of a fish eye panorama where the town water tower and clouds is blocking the sun — Panorama of the town water tower from kmart

walking path in the woods lined with lush tall green ferns — Local fern gully, Great Meadows, Minnie Reed Conservation Area

Adlife Office, Warwick, RI

The web design studio was tucked into a strip mall and had a store front. Looking back, I understand how I came to adopt regular retreats to fresh air, plants, and dirt. While the endless pavement became too much, I did frequent some of the shops, like Boloco for their decent burritos.

There was a bike path on an old rail bed nearby that was just beautiful. It was often packed with like-minded pavement cynics.

Young forest behind a parking lot fence — Fall golden hour from a strip mall parking lot

A bright and green paved trail surrounded by trees — Nearby rail trail

A forest grown in around a short electric post — Evidence of posts used by a railroad

a cement pier on a dirt bank — Leaf shadows on cement

Two yellow posts protecting a red fire hidrant surrounded by yellowing leaves. — Yellows

A rocky, viney, hill behind a parking lot with a blue commercial trash bin — Patriot disposal

A stone wall with 20 year old trees growing up around it — 30-50 year old overgrown stone wall

Harsh shadows in a nook behind a strip mall with a red picnic table in the center — Someone's break room

A brown and patched barn coveredwith shadows from unseen trees — Shadows on barn

iMarket, Winooski, VT

When I joined the company, I brought with me my recharging ritual. The location was phenomenal for it. The office sat near the mouth of the Winooski river, downstream from the dam. I had a spot I would go that allowed me to explore and linger a few moments during lunch. The spot was no secret. There was evidence of drinkers and other lingerers, and further back still, ruins of woolen mills.

One winter day, my spot gave strong medicine in the form of a frozen coyote carcass. At the time, I was reading the work of Naturalist Tom Brown Jr. He uses the term medicine that follows Native American traditions, referring to a spiritual force rather than its conventional association with physical healing.

“Medicine means the presence and power embodied in or demonstrated by a person, a place, an event, an object, or a natural phenomenon.”

My initial awe, of brushing off the snow to the sight and presence, can still be conjured. I couldn’t get enough. Being with it felt magical and sacred. As winter passed into spring, one day the body was gone.

Snow covered rocks, and ice on the Winooski river

Winooski river rocks in winter

winooski River with trees in the foreground, just starting to grow leaves in spring

Winooski river waking in spring

Golden hour shadows from a cedar tree next to a residential/office building

Office shadows from cedars

yellow yellow, telephone pole support wires against the black-and-white winter backdrop

Yellow on black & white

stairs down a steep ravine into the river for humans and their boats

Boat stairs

light peeking through a concrete column that's covered in graffiti

Under the onramp

arborvitae trees in front of a small family SUV with golden hour light

Arborvitae privacy

iMarket, Colchester, Vermont

The company moved to the third floor of a business park. You wouldn’t think there would be much break from the pavement, but remember, this was Vermont. There was a loop in an adjacent business park other walkers would take. When the air and light were right, we’d be out there circling. There was also a path through a 200-yard corridor of woods that led to the back of a Shaws. This was air conditioning in the summer, a canvas for animal tracks in the winter, and a decent spot to watch birds.

The apps iNaturalist and Merlin Bird ID also did their part to pull me outside and prompt me to observe and identify.