Saturday, November 5, 2011

Paris #2 - Rodin Gardens

I spent the late morning and afternoon at the Rodin Museum - most of it in the glorious gardens.



How civilised to display such iconic works as "The Thinker" in a garden surrounded by well groomed bushes, beautiful roses and well cut lawns. This is how art like this should be displayed - with plenty of benches (and there were) to just sit and contemplate.

"The Thinker" - Auguste Rodin

(There is an interesting observation to be made about contemplating a sculpture that is all about contemplation - but I am afraid it escapes me right now...)

Rodin was - it is evident from this lovely museum - a prolific creator. And his work is truly worthy of a museum to itself.

The masculine figures ooze strength, balanced musculature, beautiful proportions - with the whole history of sculpture contained within each... But yet they are not "heavy". They are not overdone - the physical strength of the male form is balanced with a sensibility and grace which lifts them from being just models of man to being somehow essence of man. Some playful, some full of gravitas.

While Rodin's treatment of the male form is classical and extrapolated, in some contrast his females are sensuous, graceful, so feminine and delicate it is hard to not imagine them with blood and flesh instead of bronze and marble (and terra cotta).

In particular the faces of his female sculptures have the delicacy of a woman's face, the softness, the beauty. They make me want to hold them gently in my hand.

This to me tells me that Rodin managed not just to sculpt forms that were somehow literal - but also he captured something "essential".

The gardens are just wonderful. Perfect for a gentle stroll with sculptures dotted around to arrest the gentle walker in his or her paces to consider for a moment, before moving on surrounded by flowers and manicured ornamental lawns and geometrically arranged water features.

Gardens of the Rodin Museum

A simple cafe provided lunch, rest and a couple of hours of quiet contemplation of the beautiful things in life - things which are to be nurtured, treasured, admired, respected and adored. As these works of art are taken care of and celebrated in this museum and garden - so should we take care of beauty - whether physical or metaphysical - in our lives.

All beauty should have a garden. Alive and full of life.

And now my walk continues...

Paris #1 - Ramblin' & Rodin

After a much delayed flight I finally arrived at Charles De Gaulle Airport and headed to the centre of town to my hotel near the Opera on Rue La Fayette.

The view from the car window allowed me to glimpse a piece of "Paris by night", a cliche phrase that somehow - like many cliches perhaps - seemed very "a point" as I looked at the mellow lighting of this gorgeous city and admired the first tastes of the unmistakable architecture.

Determined to get into a "La Boheme" spirit I arrived at my hotel in the mood of a travelling artist looking for his "garret" for the next three days. Clearly a laughable proposition as my limo dropped me off at the 250 Euro a night boutique hotel resplendent with wi-fi, Bang & Olufsen telephones and mood lighting - and not to mention that not many starving artistes arrive by air, with 15 kilos of cameras and lenses etc... But never mind...

Exhausted, I slept almost immediately, undecided as to what I would do today.

On waking comparatively early I hit the laptop and started looking at how my steps might be traced for the next couple of days combining art, architecture and aimlessness.

Hopping from one Arrondissement to the next on the digital maps I noted all the places I wanted to visit and even looked up opening times and special exhibits. Very organised.

A quick change of dressings on the infernal finger, showered and clothed I set off with some vague sense of purpose and exited to the street into a grey cloud covered sky with a previous rain showing moistly on the ground.

I managed 200 metres before diving into a pavement seat at a stereotypical Parisian cafe and promptly ordered coffee, bread and juice. Necessary preparations for the long walk ahead.

I call this blog "Old Shoes & Picture Postcards" for reasons explained in several earlier posts. Today I had put on distinctly old (but comfortable) shoes. And as I wandered from the Opera to Place Vendome, I started to see the Picture Postcard component.

To say this city is romantic is like saying Las Vegas lacks a little taste... A massive understatement.

It is breathtakingly romantic. That is the only word that I can think of to adequately describe the whole sensation of walking the streets of Paris. Romantic as in William Blake and romantic as in Petrarch & Dante, Romantic as Verlaine and Rimbaud. One literally aches with romance as you walk through the streets of Paris.

Most of all it's romantic like Rick & Ilsa in Casablanca. "We'll always have Paris" he said to her. I think perhaps everyone should always have Paris....

I meandered past the fabulous boutiques of Cartier, Bulgari, and other monuments to the celebration of woman, love and romance and headed towards the Jardins De Tuileries, bumping into a man who was the spitting image of Samuel Beckett along the way.

The gardens were filled with autumn leaves underfoot, provided by avenues of trees shedding their jewels for winter time and creating a carpet for the joggers, families and strolling couples criss-crossing the pathways, all heading somewhere, but only some of them knowing where.

In the corner of this little park, by the Place De Concorde, is the Musee De L'Orangerie. The building picked by Monet personally to hold his large paintings of the water lillies. I had visited some twenty odd years ago in a post examination summer visit with my mother - the cultural bastion of the family - and was somewhat curious to return.

But I found I could not go in. Not because access was denied or any physical impediment, but because I simply did not want to. I can't explain exactly what came over me, but I just couldn't go in. I felt better to stay outside, in the park.

Instead of entering the museum, I loitered - with quite some intent - by the bronze of Rodin's "Le Baiser" (The Kiss). I am a big Rodin fan and this work is sublime.

Somehow today in the grey, cold and damp environs of the park, this bronze seemed even more powerful and evocative to me. It contains the essence of human erotic contact - it is intensely physical, the whole of the two bodies intertwined in a dynamic embrace and yet despite the physicality it is also incredibly tender and delicate, metaphysical, emotional.
"Le Baiser" - Auguste Rodin

The strength of the man holding the woman with definitive grip, the woman abandoning herself to his embrace, their heads turned to allow their mouths the most full and frontal contact possible, eyes closed, her arm resting on his leg, his hand supporting her thigh as she sits on his lap.

The most wonderful, most tender, most poignant, joyous and heart aching kiss you ever had looks like this. Feels like this.

I crossed over the bridge to the Rive Gauche and made my way to the Musee D'Orsay having decided that the Monet's might wait until tomorrow when I may be more prepared to enter and see them.

As I walked along the banks of the Seine I had a curious, inexplicable feeling that I was not alone. That someone was with me. As I walked, I began to feel that the more I walked, the more likely it was that that person would appear. Feeling like Orpheus I dared not look back - preferring to hold the thought in my imagination as I took my steps.

Maybe there is a far away spirit that is supposed to be here with me - the lone traveller - in Paris.

At the Musee D'Orsay I was once again confronted with a strong desire to NOT go in. It wasn't the queues for entry that put me off - but a curious feeling that today I must be outside. I must walk and be among people and buildings, breathing the air and moving through this city.

And this is truly a city for walking. Most great cities have a "walking" component - some classic places for a stroll. The parks of London, New York and Madrid all spring to mind. The alleyways and turns of Trastevere in Rome, the centre of Florence, Gamla Stan in Stockholm, Las Ramblas and Istklal Caddesi in Barcelona and Istanbul respectively - but Paris is ALL designed for walking. Rain or shine.

As I sit and write this outside the Musee D'Orsay, I am beginning to think that this trip to Paris is a reconnaissance mission. This is maybe why I cannot go inside these museums.

I plan to get lost in the Left Bank now and wander to St Germain Des Pres and Le Marais ... And just take in the steps, note things for tomorrow or the next time I am here.

There is one garden I will visit - filled with sculptures - and where I will sit for a while and reflect. But everywhere else I think I will just wander by - in preparation for next time...

Until then I don't want to spoil it...

Monday, October 31, 2011

Unplugged . . .Part 2


While I’m “acoustic” I thought I’d take another look at a theme I mulled over in the summer – “The Courage to Live”.

The original piece I wrote was inspired by - and in response to - a part philosophical, part existential question posed by a person very dear to me.

While this second analysis of the subject started with my own musings on dealing with the adversities of life, I found much inspiration from the thoughts of two men – Walter Anderson (an American magazine editor) and Rollo May (an existential psychologist & author).

I came across both men while researching this piece and was struck by Anderson’s very common sense logic and simplicity and by May’s altogether more challenging thinking in his pioneering work in existential psychology.

In particular May’s belief that apathy was the opposite to love and that as humans our unique knowledge that we are to die, liberates the human will to act and to be. In other words, our lives are defined by the knowledge that one day we will die.

We either act against that continually and live, love, act - or we accept it apathetically and let our selves deteriorate to almost non-existence. Either we find the meaning of life inside ourselves, or we accept that life has no meaning, and therefore we as beings are meaningless.

The last time I tackled this subject I focused on optimism as the driver for courage. The ability to see the possible, the positive, the good and the upside. To be hopeful.

I think optimism – of which I am a committed practitioner – is one half of the courage to live. But I think that there is another part to courage that is equally important and perhaps a pre-cursor to optimism. It’s about choosing life – and the things necessary to make that choice . . .

“I am responsible. Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have – life itself.” - Walter Anderson

To choose life we need courage.

Courage is a big challenge for many of us. That inner strength or confidence to take on something we have no idea will work out, to face a difficult truth or fear, to pass through a difficult period. Where the downside is loss, pain, expense, cost, discomfort or some other misfortune and where the upside may be invisible, or only partially clear. . . that’s quite a big bet for a lot of us, and it’s something we face on an almost daily basis.

Of course most of us find the courage we need for the little things in life through comparative experiences. If this does not work then we turn perhaps to our friends, our families, colleagues, or our partners – but the big things in life are much more difficult.

We need a special kind of courage to deal with those big challenges and fears – we need courage from within.

And I believe courage is born of trust. Optimism may sustain that courage, but for it to be born, it is born of trust.

Trust of ourselves.

“Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” Walter Anderson

It sounds simple, but it isn’t. To trust ourselves we must make ourselves vulnerable to our very own self. We must first expose and then accept our fears, our weaknesses, our challenges and those parts of our selves we would rather ignore or rather run away from.

Not only must we accept them and acknowledge them, we must embrace them. We must bring them close to us and see that they are a part of our “self”.

This is very hard for many of us as it often involves struggling with feelings of guilt, low self-esteem, bitterness, sadness and frequently a feeling of being lost, confused, out of control, consumed and detached from our good selves. These are unpleasant emotions and behaviors at the best of times and we naturally do not want to dwell on them – but dwell on them we must if we are to understand them and accept them.

As we spend time becoming accustomed to our “dark sides”, our fears and our weaknesses, we can begin to contextualize them, and then begin to accept them as part of us.

First we should accept that our fears, weaknesses and occasional bad behaviors are human. They are natural and they are normal. We all have them; they are part of every one of us.

None of us is “damaged goods” just because we are afraid sometimes, just because we are weak occasionally or because we behave badly now and again.

If we are jealous or angry, selfish or harsh, nasty or cold it is only because we are also compassionate and patient, generous and gentle, affectionate and warm.

I believe that to a large degree our personalities are defined by duality  - as it is through contrast we understand what is right and good, and what is wrong and bad. As good defines evil and vice versa, so do our happy and good characteristics define our unhappy and bad ones (and vice versa).

Second, to accept our “selves” as “whole” by acknowledging all of our characteristics and personality traits is not an act of relegation or dismissal. It is an act of forgiveness.

However, forgiveness is not absolution.

To forgive our self is not license or permission to behave without consequence – it is instead to acknowledge our mistakes, our weaknesses and to resolve first to live with them and second to work with them.

Think of coming to the realization that one is overweight for example. To forgive oneself for being overweight is a healthy thing to do. To see that forgiveness as permission to carry on being overweight and neglect oneself is not healthy. To build on the forgiveness of oneself by resolving to lose weight and thus take care of one self better is the healthy response. (A personal example there!)

An alternative might be hurting someone’s feelings. Initially on becoming conscious of this “bad” behavior, we might feel guilty and remorseful. We might even “punish” ourselves in some way – but instead we should forgive ourselves and then build. By which I mean, acknowledge that hurting people happens. We don’t mean to hurt most of the time and when we do so we need to accept it as part of life. An ugly part of life by which we can also understand a more beautiful part like care, affection, nurture (the opposites or contrasts of “hurting someone”). But then we must move on to build and resolve. Why did we hurt that person? What caused it? Can we avoid doing so in the future? Can we at least mitigate the hurt we cause? These kinds of questions – if answered honestly and truly – can help us understand our behavior better – and consequently avoid it (at least more often) if we resolve to.

And there is a good reason for us to go to this trouble of acknowledgment, forgiveness, analysis and resolution . . .

Learning to live with one’s fears, weaknesses and negative behaviors is learning to take care of oneself. It is the act of care for one’s “self” that enables us to grow as people and to find balance and peace.

Taking care of ourselves is the most basic expression of love for our “self” – and in turn the most basic way of reassuring ourselves that we have value, that we are worthy, that we are attractive, desirable and so on.

"To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive - to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before."  Rollo May

It will not and cannot prevent us entirely from facing fear or weakness again – but it provides us with the means to begin to be comfortable enough with our “self” to be able to trust and trust provides us with the mechanism with which to deal with our fears and weaknesses – as our trust in others allows us to deal with theirs.

We usually think of trust as something we direct to someone else – and not to ourselves. Not something that relates to our relationship with our “self”. But in fact, no matter how much we may want to, we cannot trust anyone else if we cannot trust our “self”. 

Think of this quotation – again from Walter Anderson:

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy”.

Think of the same concepts but placing our “self” in place of “someone”.  If we cannot trust ourselves, how can we trust anyone else?

And if we cannot trust then we cannot love.

I am slightly unusual in this regard in that I place a lot of trust and faith in people based on either instinct or hope or both.  In my professional life it is called “empowerment” and for me it has always been the force that motivates me to do and be my best at work. When I have been trusted I will go the extra mile and more. I do not want to let that person down. As a result of my own experience I tend to trust and empower others. I trust in something I have no reason to – in other words I have faith.

In my personal life it is less about empowerment per se than it is about a desire for engagement, for connection. It is my currency for connection.  I empower someone else to be in my life is perhaps another way of putting it. I have faith in them as another human being that they will act with compassion. I have faith in them.

Many times – both professionally and personally - my trust has been abused, broken or otherwise misplaced, my “currency” stolen, but I cannot help myself and remained committedly optimistic. I believe that to give someone trust based on faith, and without particular knowledge or “testing” is generous and kind– albeit very risky, as it makes one vulnerable. But then that is the nature of trust!

Of course I realize it can be overwhelming for some, but I believe that trust is such a binding connection, such a force for good and so precious, that I cannot hide behind the fear of risk when the return is so energizing and positive. And I hope to God my optimism in this regard is never tainted and turned to cynicism.

Of course trust is not a switch. It’s a slider (think of a mixing desk in a recording studio and all those lovely sliders which slowly increase the volume, the reverb, the bass, the treble etc).

A switch is binary, a slider is dynamic. Trust is a dynamic emotion – not a binary one.

However, while trust can grow gradually and relatively as well as quickly, when it is broken it can sometimes be pretty absolute.

My experience though is that the greater the genuine trust, the greater the capacity for forgiveness.

Trust enables us to overcome our fears. To have courage. To find our faith again

“You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.” Mary Manin Morrissey (Empowerment Specialist and “New Thought” Minister)

So to recap:

Through accepting our “self” with the fears and weaknesses we have, we can learn to love our whole self (not just our good self) – because we forgive and resolve. We resolve to take care of our “self” and love our “self” because we conclude that we are worthy of care and love. We provide that love and care to our “self” and we begin to trust our “self” because it is familiar, it no longer frightens us, and we have learned to have faith in it.

So when we need to find the courage to live through the really difficult parts of life, we need to look within ourselves.

If we have learned to accept our fears and weakness, if we have learned to forgive ourselves for those things we have done which we would rather not have done, if we have learned to trust ourselves, then we will find the strength within to be courageous. To find our faith again.

And if we are courageous we will find not only how to live, but also how to love.

Each of us is worth life and worth love. Each of us deserves life and deserves love.

When we can feel and understand why we deserve life and love, we will find the courage to live life, to love and ultimately - to be loved.

So the courage to live is also the courage to love. For to live is to love and to love is to live.

In the words of the renowned psychologist and psychoanalyst Erich Fromm:

“Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.”

This piece is “αφιερωμένο” to my "Λέαινα"  - I hope this helps you to find the "Play" button. 

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