I have recently gone to a number of lectures in a large auditorium. The set-up has 2 people sitting on stage, one interviewing the other. In between the two there is a table with 2 glasses of water and a vase with flowers. The vase is what I am interested in here.

What is the tradition that establishes this vase of flowers? It is actually quite unobtrusive: not a bouquet of 30 flowers 3 feet high. But rather about 3 flowers, 15 inches high. And they are often pink or orange. Incidentally, the topics of the conversation at these lecture-interviews range from literature to comedy to politics. The audience is quite large – maybe 1,000 or more – so depending on where I happen to sit, the speakers are sometimes difficult to see in detail, and the flowers are a splash of color; maybe roses but maybe not.

I always find these flowers like the lynch-pin, the centerpiece, of the presentation. As if the whole thing would give over to centrifugal force if the flowers didn't hold them in. So for me the centerpiece is the hub of this event and the spokes go out without a wheel giving them an outside frame. The exchanges roam at times.

We have people for dinner at our home from time to time. My wife prepares a bouquet of roses as a centerpiece for the dinner table. They are from our garden, so people usually say something complimentary about them and they often smell nice. But then, nobody pays any attention to them and that seems natural enough. It occurs to me that they survive several hours of conversation, and perhaps a couple of days of merely providing decoration. The conversation, of course, can go all over the place in terms of topic and emotion. I find myself looking at them periodically during the meal and having a flashing experience of tranquility.

Since I became interested in gardening, I have begun to pay attention to how these flowers affect my life. House plants serve other (equally wonderful) functions, but they are spread around the perimeter usually, no matter now large and impressive and deserving of attention they are. But at the center of the dinner table, they are centripetal. From my experience, they draw people together.

So too at these lectures where there is really no personal connection amongst members of the audience. Beyond the one or two people whom I have come with, usually only my wife, I have no connection with the large group. But the vase on the small table between speakers is my touchstone.

Curious how this happens. Maybe age and retirement have given me the protected space inside myself for having this moment. For me it is clearly more than just a decoration. There is something grounding about it. It feels like it reminds me of the ground under me, the pleasure of growing the flowers, the pleasure of cutting them, the enjoyment of smelling them, and the image of their softness.

Is it like this for you too?