My overcoat has a small hole in the lining of its right pocket. For the most part I’ve gotten used to not putting small objects in there, ever since I discovered a few pens, my car keys, and assorted receipts burrowed into the bottom of my coat, but occasionally I forget. Yesterday evening, after buying groceries at the corner store while juggling my various winter trappings, I shoved the change into my right pocket and promptly forgot about it.

This morning, as I walked to the train station, I noticed that my coat was jingling.

For the entire day, the coins in the lining of my coat turned me into a sort of walking bell tower, and I couldn’t help thinking of the mindfulness bells that people of various contemplative traditions ring to restore themselves to full awareness of the world.