So much of our everyday life is necessarily transactional. From the essentials of a weekly shop to the desires of coffee, retail therapy and other stimulating experiences, we have so many opportunities to observe what motivations, distractions and sometimes delusions drive our choices, and where generosity and appreciation have a part to play in our dealings with others.
The last year and a half on a market stall has been a window on my own and others’ transactional reflex and the presence and at times absence of generosity that accompanies it.
I still remember the cushion I didn’t release to a young person who would have spent all their money to buy it ….a choice on reflection I would so happily change in place of the higher price the sale eventually realised. At times it’s other’s attitudes, from mild surprise to the downright derogatory that have caught my attention, particularly when the price displeases. Lost in that moment is the recognition that the process of sourcing, curating, setting up, let alone the hours spent in all kinds of weather week after week are all an unseen part of the value of the item, the market and those who collectively give it a heartbeat.
The irony is not lost on me reflecting on my own hunter gatherer phase, consuming in French flea markets more than 20 years ago. Whilst I always appreciated chatting with traders, I too was seduced by my eye for a bargain and the unusual to give much attention to the values and independent spirit that brought these ephemeral collections and their temporary custodians together each week.
Whilst very much a novice, I’m developing the ability to roll with the punches learning from those with a lifetime experience of not taking the mood of the market or impact of the weather personally. Learning how to brush off the insincere and appreciate the authentic is an essential skill that only evolves with time. I’ve found it’s not a process for the faint-hearted revealing as it does my insecurities and the opportunity to stand tall whatever unfolds. I’ve been helped along in no small way by the inclusivity and open-handed sharing of those traders who recognise the market is like an eco-system that relies on the health of many contributions. They have shown a kinder way of relating that is often absent in our lives.
I have found there are also many other rewards:
Treasure discovered through others’ eyes, re-purposing of the discarded, be it a fish kettle for eco-dying or a woven heart for a witch themed photo shoot.
Conversations recognising and admiring the craft and skill of making – the hours spent in creating through form, colour and pattern, passed down through generations.
Forgotten memories – like the 1970s coffee cups, still unsold, a prompt to remember loved ones no longer present.
Glimpses into parallel lives - sharing the moment of inspiration to fill a small papier mache pot with treats for a child at Christmas.
Alongside the light, surprising moments, this spontaneous sharing can also reveal deep truths, personal struggles, illness, loss and financial uncertainty. When there is time and opportunity to listen, the difficult becomes possible to express, simply because the environment allows. In these instances, privacy gives way to candour and fear of judgment to trust.
I have seen too how the market can give a literal direction and purpose where there might be none: to keep going down the street, putting one step in front of the other when each step is less secure without a stick and, with time at home more alone than at any other stage in life, a place to feel the elements together and share the knowing of a long life.
At these times precious fragments of our inner world are shared, our hopes, our memories, and our loving nature amongst former possessions, ready and waiting for a new life. The market is a mirror, revealing the way we relate, value and appreciate, a recurring invitation to share, connect and be generous. It is here in the otherwise ordinariness of our transactional living that the possibilities of a deeper communication, however fleeting, is always present and the magic of the market is revealed. Whether we see it or not, just like any eco-system, its potential to thrive is down to us.
The last year and a half on a market stall has been a window on my own and others’ transactional reflex and the presence and at times absence of generosity that accompanies it.
I still remember the cushion I didn’t release to a young person who would have spent all their money to buy it ….a choice on reflection I would so happily change in place of the higher price the sale eventually realised. At times it’s other’s attitudes, from mild surprise to the downright derogatory that have caught my attention, particularly when the price displeases. Lost in that moment is the recognition that the process of sourcing, curating, setting up, let alone the hours spent in all kinds of weather week after week are all an unseen part of the value of the item, the market and those who collectively give it a heartbeat.
The irony is not lost on me reflecting on my own hunter gatherer phase, consuming in French flea markets more than 20 years ago. Whilst I always appreciated chatting with traders, I too was seduced by my eye for a bargain and the unusual to give much attention to the values and independent spirit that brought these ephemeral collections and their temporary custodians together each week.
Whilst very much a novice, I’m developing the ability to roll with the punches learning from those with a lifetime experience of not taking the mood of the market or impact of the weather personally. Learning how to brush off the insincere and appreciate the authentic is an essential skill that only evolves with time. I’ve found it’s not a process for the faint-hearted revealing as it does my insecurities and the opportunity to stand tall whatever unfolds. I’ve been helped along in no small way by the inclusivity and open-handed sharing of those traders who recognise the market is like an eco-system that relies on the health of many contributions. They have shown a kinder way of relating that is often absent in our lives.
I have found there are also many other rewards:
Treasure discovered through others’ eyes, re-purposing of the discarded, be it a fish kettle for eco-dying or a woven heart for a witch themed photo shoot.
Conversations recognising and admiring the craft and skill of making – the hours spent in creating through form, colour and pattern, passed down through generations.
Forgotten memories – like the 1970s coffee cups, still unsold, a prompt to remember loved ones no longer present.
Glimpses into parallel lives - sharing the moment of inspiration to fill a small papier mache pot with treats for a child at Christmas.
Alongside the light, surprising moments, this spontaneous sharing can also reveal deep truths, personal struggles, illness, loss and financial uncertainty. When there is time and opportunity to listen, the difficult becomes possible to express, simply because the environment allows. In these instances, privacy gives way to candour and fear of judgment to trust.
I have seen too how the market can give a literal direction and purpose where there might be none: to keep going down the street, putting one step in front of the other when each step is less secure without a stick and, with time at home more alone than at any other stage in life, a place to feel the elements together and share the knowing of a long life.
At these times precious fragments of our inner world are shared, our hopes, our memories, and our loving nature amongst former possessions, ready and waiting for a new life. The market is a mirror, revealing the way we relate, value and appreciate, a recurring invitation to share, connect and be generous. It is here in the otherwise ordinariness of our transactional living that the possibilities of a deeper communication, however fleeting, is always present and the magic of the market is revealed. Whether we see it or not, just like any eco-system, its potential to thrive is down to us.
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