Something Beyond— At West End Gallery
But We Had Music
Right this minute
across time zones and opinions
people are
making plans
making meals
making promises and poems
while
at the center of our galaxy
a black hole with the mass of
four billion suns
screams its open-mouth kiss
of oblivion.
Someday it will swallow
Euclid’s postulates and the Goldberg Variations,
swallow calculus and Leaves of Grass.
I know this.
And still
when the constellation of starlings
flickers across the evening sky,
it is enough
to stand here
for an irrevocable minute
agape with wonder.
It is eternity.
— Maria Popova
This poem, But We Had Music, is from Maria Popova, who has written the wonderful blog The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings) since 2006. I have gleaned so much from her insights and sharing of the writings and thoughts of so many great thinkers. I seldom come away after reading her blog without a wealth of new perceptions.
But this time her own poem instantly hit me as a fitting companion to the painting at the top, Something Beyond. It is, of course, one of the paintings featured in my new solo exhibit of work, Guiding Light, that opens next Friday, October 17, at the West End Gallery.
For me, this piece speaks to the same realization that comes in Popova’s poem– that though our lives here are so often filled with busyness, worries, sorrows, joys, opinions, and accusations, there sometimes come moments that remind us of the temporary nature of our time here. We are so often lost in the boiling, roiling, and turmoiling of the minute details of everyday life that we lose sight of the miracle and wonder of it all.
I had such a moment as the one described in the poem just yesterday when I had to run into town early in the morning. It was cold, our first freeze of the season, and there was an icy fog hanging on the road. After a few miles there was a break in the fog and the morning sky softly broke through. There was a lovely and delicate salmon pink color created by the sunrise on the low cloud above. A group of eight or nine geese was rising out of the field off to my right and flew in line across that pale pink sky. They were flying perpendicular to me, both of us moving toward the same point ahead, so that I was able to watch them for more than mere glance. It was a lovely few moments, so tranquil and natural that it felt like a small bit of grace from somewhere beyond, a simple reminder of the wonders that surround us.
It’s easy to lose sight of that. We live our lives in what could and should be a simple and wonderful world. Unfortunately, it all too often seems tangled up with the stupidity, anger, hatred, and confusion usually brought about by those who forget that we are ephemeral beings living on borrowed time and that no amount of money or power will change that fact.
A handful of geese in the sky on a cold October morning can sometimes feel like a remedy to all that.
Below is a reading of Maria Popova’s poem from singer/songwriter Nick Cave with visualizations from filmmaker Daniel Bruson. I have also included a piano piece, Spanish Waltz, from Spanish pianist Nel Aique. It came on while I was writing this and it mirrored the feel of the flight of those geese yesterday morning. Lovely.
Redtree Times 