Every time I walk past a narrow stretch of sidewalk between my building and the three-flat immediately to the east, I marvel at the fullness of the greenery,

The space is occupied by hostas, which are low maintenance perennials. Even though they bloom every year automatically, it’s not like thinking did not go into how they would occupy this strip of earth.

Paula, who makes sure the limited amount of green space around our building pops with color each summer, gave a lot of thought to how to make the passage full without being overcrowded.

I pondered the concept of fullness this week as I’ve been observing the small front lawn gardens as I walk along adjacent blocks every day, and as I’ve been observing the waxing moon at night.

There are so many ways to consider fullness.

“Fullness” can be used to describe capacity, and my associations in this regard are all over the place.

I recall being uncomfortably full after dining at an all-you-can-eat buffet. As if to prove that restaurant would lose money on me, I’d fill my plate in layers and, not wanting to waste anything, eat until I hurt.

I might also associate fullness with disappointment or inconvenience, as in the parking lot closest to my destination was full.

During the pandemic, I have been sad when taking in stats or stories about ICUs being too full to treat more patients and have been encouraged when local businesses went from shut-down to twenty-five to fifty to one hundred percent capacity.

Fullness, as capacity, is neutral. Whether you feel good depends on what it is that’s “full.”

Fullness also describes a state of being, a kind of contentment, a feeling of being satisfied, of sufficiency, of not needing any more.

I’ve often been inspired by the full moon. In some parts of the world, the full moon of July appears especially round in the night sky.

The full moon suggests completeness and perfection. Its monthly cycle demonstrates how it runs reliably through its phases; from new moon to crescent to three-quarter to completely rounded.

Observing the silhouettes for the phases of the moon reminds me that some things are constant, that there will always be new opportunities, that things always find completion (although they might not be the exact way we had in mind).

I love the symbolism — the illusion of the full moon. I know that the moon is always full. It only appears to take on different shapes because of its orbit and based on how it is viewed.

I love the flexibility of fullness as a construct for feeling.

A person can think that they might be full in some way, that they can’t take on any more obligations (as in they already have a “full plate) or they can’t feed another person with what they planned on having for dinner….

But then they discover that this limit is malleable, accommodating. It’s not completely fixed or absolute.

A person might give all his or her heart to a mate, but if they have a child, they can give all their heart to their child at the same time. Giving your love fully to someone or something does not mean it has been used up.

I love the idea of fullness. The images and thoughts sparked by contemplating the concept represent a special kind of BEAUTY.

Fullness is subjective, complex. Nuanced.

Accepting and appreciating that something can have many definitions or examples is no small thing.