London, England
One of my favorite experiences at a symphony concert comes before the show even starts. A violinist bows a 440 Hz B-flat and the disjointed cacophony of a hundred players doing their own thing while warming up suddenly fuses into a coherent stream of pure tone devoid of dissonance. An orchestra coming together instantly at the unspoken command of an assistant concertmaster has always been for me a most meaningful metaphor of cooperation.
Sometimes there are those moments in our lives when all the chaos and dissonance simply sublimates and we find ourselves in a state of pure flow. It can be nearly ecstatic; the well known Czech psychologist Csikszentmihalyi described the ebullient states of flow we can enter into. Our first full day in London provided a profound sense of the flow that comes when one simply releases any ideas of what must be and simply develops a curious questioning of what is the next best thing to engage in. In a spiritual sense I often wonder how much grander life would be if we could simply let God do the choosing for us in the everyday affairs of our lives, even with regard to the relatively trivial matters of picking tourist attractions to visit. A sound byte states, “We get God’s best when we let Him do the choosing.”
Despite the rigors of jet lag, a lost night of sleep over the Atlantic, ad infinitum, we basked in the sublime and all too rare gift of a sound night’s sleep our first night in London. So fortified, our day started in tune and we were able to release ourselves to the possibility, that even as gawking tourists, we could experience the reality of God down in the ground of a tourist junket in London. After all, we had ostensibly made the journey across the Atlantic, in part, to experience the Numinous.
After a breakfast in a happy crowded breakfast room of travelers, we walked to the underground station at Victoria and made our way to South Kensington, a mere 4 minute ride on the District Line. It is a different world when one arrives at a busy subway station to find vendors selling large potted plants - even exotic orchids sitting next to happy sunflowers in full bloom. I wonder what kind of city it is that actually generates a seller’s market for potted plants in a subway; certainly a city I want to be in more often. I made it a point to ‘collect’ these plants by making colorful images of these with a new digital camera.
Arriving on Cromwell Rd, we made the happy discovery that all the once expensive great museums of the UK now have free admission at all times. This allows one to consider the idea of simply dropping into a world class collection for just an hour or so. One no longer has to plan an all day hike in the galleries to justify an expensive day ticket. The Science Museum is five floors of amazing collections of centuries of industrial inventions and high tech interactive displays. It was heartening to see vast improvements in the curation and creativity involved in the museum exhibits. A floor of volcanic exhibits even included a simulator to give one a sense of what the great 1992 Kobe Japan earthquake felt like.
Jo mentioned a couple days ago wanting to buy some rhinestone costume jewelry along the way to use at a special event when she returns home. Walking along the sidewalk I saw something glinting. What might have been just a speck of aluminum turned out to be a brooch containing a large number of brilliant rhinestones. It was in perfect condition, not yet trodden under foot. I gave it to Jo and told her she must be living right. We took this as a tiny omen that the day was going to get ever better. It seems that the powers that be were in a generous temperament today.
A bit further on we came across an announcement for a free photographic exhibition. We found ourselves inside the beautiful Old World headquarters of the International Geographic Society. We saw stunning images of the national parks in Australia. A hospitable staff member then invited us into the member’s reading room and research facility where I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that some people actually get paid to work in such a grand environment. The lobby and gardens of the building have a fine view of the Royal Albert Hall, one of the world’s premier performance venues.
We left the Society building and walked a short way to the Royal Albert Hall, curious about the size mortgage needed to get seats to see “The King and I” in the evening. We were astounded at how inexpensive tickets were to a major production in one of the world’s great music venues, even if for seats in the rafters. I swiped my plastic and we left with tickets for seats in the stratosphere.
While making a photo survey of the exterior of this grand hall, we heard strands of luscious tango music wafting through the plazas and streets around this red brick temple of performance. A short investigation and inquiry revealed a free ninety minute concert to be taking place in the Consort cafe in the Royal Albert. The Royal Albert contains three fine restaurants and ten bars with food service. The theater and concert experience is very rich on this side of the water. A splendid luncheon of Welsh rarebit served on china and linen filled in the void of a long-gone breakfast. The fine musicians from Buenos Aires made for a relaxed melodic repast. A large group of Latinos around us made us suddenly feel a part of something almost like family. The band recognized an old man in a wheelchair by name and wished him a happy birthday. The place erupted in good cheer for him. We joined in and belonged to this vibrant temporary community.
A fairly vague doorway at the end of a block proved an aperture into a whole world of the imagination. We found ourselves in the Royal College of Arts wherein an annual exhibition of senior projects was on display. These were stunning in their complexity and creativity. Astounding to me was the articulate and compassionate thinking involved in most of the projects. Many of the projects had to do with urban redesign, sustainable models of living, and even tribal models of relating to each other. Suddenly the future seemed much less at risk, knowing that young brilliant minds were thinking outside the box in such creative ways.
The next chapter of our circadian odyssey was a stroll through Hyde Park to see the always magnificent annual flower displays on the perimeter paths. After photographing the nearby Albert and Victoria Memorial we headed towards the sale rooms at Harrods. Thinking myself so astute, I calculated in my mental GSP a short cut to those epic sale rooms. We instead found ourselves in a blind side street in a magnificent embassy neighborhood. At the end of a short cul-de-sac I found myself staring at a splendid Orthodox Church. The architecture told me it must be Russian Orthodox. Closer scrutiny proved this to indeed be the case. I held my breath as I tried the heavy oak front doors. So often in the post 9/11 days everything is locked up. Amazingly, the doors opened easily. The hot brightness of a summer day in late June gave way to the cool darkness of a numinous space, inviting me to be still and listen. There was no one in the sanctuary. Suddenly in a city of twelve million I was alone at the throne. I was being given a moment to listen for the pitch that would put my life in tune with the One who gave it to me. In the solitude filled with the hundreds of brilliant icons and luminous art works found in orthodox churches, I thought of the flecks of paradise that will wash up on the shores of our lives if we but pay attention. Outside a small elegant shop adjoining the church contained gleaming icons for sale. Two of these will be reminders during this journey that true reality is often found when we are willing to turn off the main road and take a new unfamiliar way.
Planning again to find the familiar way to the sale rooms at Harrods we passed by the V & A Museum. We decided to try a short cut through it; after all it has free admission now. A fifteen second short cut turned into a couple hours of bliss. There proves to be a large quad in the center of the complex of 150 year old red brick and marble buildings. This grass oasis and wading pools proved a grand place of mindfulness for those barefoot in the pools and those sleeping on the grass. For those of us drinking chilled lemonade and munching on lemon pound cake under umbrellas it was a bucolic exhibition of the highest order. We were living fully in the moment. We never made it to the sale rooms. The best wasn’t something we could buy.
All that walking for eight hours to other universes depleted even the high energy of Welsh rarebit and lemonade and we decided to look for something to eat. We found ourselves in the Royal Albert Hall for the third time today on the third floor where one of the venues provided us with the likes of vodka cured salmon grandiax with citrus fruit and baby herb salad. As if this was not enough we added air-dried ham with Asian pear, char-grilled artichoke and pecorino salad. The management of the world has been especially generous to us today.
Following this scrumptious pre-show interlude we donned our oxygen bottles and headed for the stratosphere for our cheap obstructed view seats in the rafters. At the door the usher looked at the tickets in my hand and said what all airplane weary passengers consider to be the most sublime words in the world, “we would like to give you a free ticket upgrade.” He took my tickets and handed me another set and told me to hurry to the stalls. We went down one floor thinking we would be just below our original assigned places. A slightly impatient usher there instructed us to go all the way to the bottom. We ended up with the best seats in the 5,356 seat auditorium. I am reminded of the time the universe dropped diamonds and platinum into my life. Today it dropped rhinestones and premium theater tickets in. Those tickets were valued at $197. Why me? Why not me? GK Chesterton expressed marvel at how the flecks of paradise and blessing sometimes wash up twice. And, yes, the show was really spectacular in every respect, music, acting, set design, lighting, and direction.
A Lebanese restaurant in our neighborhood in Belgravia allowed us to have a late evening meal, which seems to make Europe seem so civilized. People have a hard time letting go of the day here because life is so rich. We hung on for dear life. It was grand.
No comments:
Post a Comment