Tent | Mark Lindsay

In the middle of an art fair I looked up. Atop a canvas tent a plain banner fluttered in a foggy breeze. Below was the spectacle of event. Artists, patrons, food vendors and children mingled amongst artifacts of the creative spirit. Yet, above it all was the homely banner. Boring and ordinary, it captivated me.

It was like a old crow in a field of peacocks. The paintings below it screamed crimson and scarlet with dashes of cobalt blue. Blown glass and sculpture stood propped on precarious mounts and pedestals while the lazy flag fluttered above them. This for sale, that for sale, "Look at me," said every artist in his or her own way. And then there was the flag. It seemed so effortless in its being. It was a plain, old banner and that was that.

Sometimes the chaos of life makes us look up and see the current of peace that runs through it all. Sometimes we forget and get caught in the rapids. A mouthful of water and we gasp for air. We show off, we try hard, we become human doings instead of human beings. And then a tiny flag teaches us a lesson.