June 5: A few days ago, my friend Aileen and I dashed to Manhattan for the Raphael exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And, during our two-day trip, we opened ourselves up to spontaneity.
Yes, we savored Parisian hot chocolate, as planned, at Angelina’s — and delighted in the shaded happy New Yorkers enjoying Bryant Park next door. Yes, as planned, we met a friend at the Waldorf-Astoria’s shimmering Peacock Alley — and clinked our yummy mocktail glasses to the best coconut pineapple crème brûlée we’d ever had. Yes, we gaped at Van Gogh’s Starry Night at the Museum of Modern Art — and then marveled “This is here?!” for every iconic Matisse, Picasso or Chagall springing up before us.
Yes, we sometimes slept jaggedly in our mid-town hotel room — and smiled over the explosion of crowd noises below us as the New York Knicks grabbed an improbable Game 1 victory in the NBA Finals.
And yes, we allowed awe to envelop us as we yielded to Raphael’s magic — and exclaimed when every wrong turn at the Met (and there were many) led us to another breathtaking surprise: a tiled loggia ceiling from a Spanish palace, a bouquet of Impressionist works (“walk away from the Monets…”), and a long narrow room filled floor to ceiling with facsimiles created by Egyptologist Nina de Garis Davies of tomb wall paintings made during the Met’s early 1900s expeditions to Egypt.
Ok, so we arrived home well after midnight. But I promise you: our dreams were sweet and blooming with even more surprises.
Bonus: If you like logistics as much as I do (just ask my family), you might enjoy this article describing the mechanics behind the Met’s blockbuster Raphael exhibition: the research, funding, security, transport, and of course the endless negotiations to persuade over 60 public institutions (and a few private owners) to part temporarily with their treasures. You’ll also see lots of photos of the exhibition if you can’t get there before it closes this month.
June 5: “Was that your son?” the server asked me as I returned to my bowl of pho. Yes, indeed. While I was navigating my noodles at our favorite Vietnamese restaurant, Jeremiah suddenly appeared before me. “I saw your car and managed to find you!”
Jeremiah had been enjoying coffee and record-shopping with a friend. On his way home, he surprised me. A quick greeting, a quick hug, and he was gone. Another lady eating her bowl of pho smiled with my server as we all relished a treat as good as spring rolls.
June 6: Tonight, while Kevin was taking splendid wildlife photos on Assateague Island, I took myself, a picnic dinner, and my friend Allison to a free concert at a nearby woodlands amphitheater. The musician, Carly Harvey, turned a few chairs on “The Voice” with her fusion of blues, jazz, soul and Indigenous American music. She also turned repeatedly to her bandmembers to celebrate their performances that night and their careers in the Washington, D.C., music scene. They reciprocated with tissues and love when, during her tribute to the music of Amy Winehouse, Harvey turned herself inside out and acknowledged the echoes of Winehouse’s songs in her own life.
The performers’ evident connection created a surprising intimacy under the big blue sky.
June 7: One cemetery tour. Two beers and two cups of popcorn. Two summer rolls and one lemongrass chicken dish. (Yes, I went back to the Vietnamese restaurant.) One ice cream cone.
This carousel of delights cost me both calories and currency. A fair price, I decided, for a perfect afternoon.
June 8: At the Waldorf-Astoria’s Peacock Alley, Aileen, her friend and I chatted briefly about spiritual retreats. Now the idea occurred to me: does the Benedictine Abbey near me have any openings this year? I found one entitled “A Gregorian Chant Schola Retreat.” I adore Gregorian chants. I made the necessary phone call, grabbed the last of twelve spots, and waited for the welcome email from the director.
When the director sent me actual musical scores, I panicked. (Hmmm. What about the word “Schola” didn’t I understand? Even autocorrect tried to make it “School.”)
I sent the director a note, confessed my utter non-musicality, and volunteered to relinquish the coveted last spot. The director replied, “Please do not be concerned about this. We are not performing, but experiencing the powerful effect that Gregorian chant has on all who come in contact with it… for centuries. I’m so glad you are planning to be with us.”
Wow. I decided to attend. But I did assure the director, in my note of gratitude, “I take instructions well, assuming I understand them. I will definitely understand ‘maybe a little softer from the enthusiastic lady in the corner?’
June 9: On my way home from a taxing morning, I found a Metro card on the train platform. Worrying that its value might be depleted before the owner could transfer the balance to a new card, I consulted the Metro employee at my home station.
Before I could speak my questions, she complimented my artsy clothes, funky jewelry and even fly-away haircut. My fatigue vanished in the warmth of her kindness and — yes — I asked for a hug. She took me in her arms.
Eventually, I posed my questions, got advice and turned to go, promising to find her again the next time I hurried through the turnstiles. She made a heart gesture with her fingers and said, “give me a wave and a smile; it’s just as good as a hug.”
I asked her name. “Miss Polite,” she said. Yes, that’s nice. “Miss Sunshine” would work too.
June 11: A week ago, I painted dishware at my local clay studio. (See my handwringing on June 1.) My friend Laurie urged me to share a photo of my finished bowl. So, here you go.
As I said to Laurie in our blogging chat, in addition to cheerleading for beautiful things, I want to be vulnerable (sometimes). Gradually, I am learning that when I’m vulnerable, my friends — including you, dear Readers — will cheer me on just because I’m being vulnerable. Isn’t that beauty too?
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If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!
Fashioned For Joy 