The poppies are everywhere. They appear so fragile and ephemeral with their tissue-paper petals, yet they are also seemingly indestrucible, capable of living in the harshest conditions. But pick them, and they almost immediately fade.
A few days ago, we were in Carcassonne and wandered into the ancient cathedral. The stained glass was spectacular and the interior immense.
There were four men near the front. They looked burly and rough, like perhaps they were workers just using the cool interior as an escape from the heat. I wanted to take a picture of some of the stained glass but they were in my way. And then, they shuffled into a line, facing the pews. I looked around. Who was going to take their picture?
Determined to get my photo, I started to work my way around them …which is when they started to sing.
Angels took over the space. The high cathedral rounded out every perfect note. I was stunned by the beauty of the tenor, the bass, the harmony. I found my way to a pew and sat, my arms covered in goosebumps and the back of my head tingling, as I tried to take in what was happening.
They sang two ancient-sounding hymns. The cathedral added its resonance and I could imagine the hundreds of years of harmonies that had reverberated in that sacred vault.
There was a thick silence of shared awe when they finished. And then the tenor, in a heavy Russian accent announced that they had CD’s for sale.
Kevin & I exchanged looks. We were first up to buy a CD.
Later, in the car, we listened to it, but the recording wasn’t that good and the soaring atmosphere, the stained glass and the unexpectedness of it all was gone. It was apparent to me what we’d done; we had tried to purchase the moment.
I don’t want to suggest one should never support artists. But maybe in this instance it was a little like picking poppies…
It was when we tried to own the experience that it was drained of energy.
Colleen – you ARE capable of “bottling it up”! Your words are inspired giving everyone the opportunity to share your FEELINGS of that Magnificent experience. Photos are an attempt to capture the moments – you are able to re-create with your words. I’m so happy and proud to know you and share your Magnificent Experiences. Keep the words flowing!
Karen. Each summer my mother would hopefully ask me if I’d ‘put up any fruit’. She was always disappointed that I hadn’t taken to canning like she did. I still think that, one of these days, I will actually do some canning in her honour.
Meanwhile, maybe she’ll be happy to know that someone thinks I’m doing okay at ‘bottling it up!’ Thanks!
Beautiful post Colleen. Because of your wonderful explanation of the sights
and sounds and mood of the moment, I felt like I was actually there!
There have been so many times when I have travelled where there is
particular moments that you don’t want to forget, and feel so lucky to be
alive. You realize something really special is happening at that moment
and you would like to bottle it up, to access for future.
I also have many photos on my computer that I have
taken in many of those instances, and I cherish the memories!
Thanks Laurie. I agree on the ‘bottle it up’ idea.
Wouldn’t that be great? Like releasing a genie, we could just pop the cork and voila! the smells and mood and sounds and colours would swirl up and envelop us in the experience. I guess that barring that, we just have to treasure it in our hearts and minds as much as possible 🙂 I think creating art, whether writing it down in a journal, painting a picture (or perhaps in your case a gorgeous mosaic or stained glass 🙂 or taking a photo are all ways that help us remember. Thanks for adding to the layers of thoughts and ideas in this post.
We do try to capture everything, don’t we? I think of the tens of thousands of photos sitting on my computer… at some point the desire to ‘save the moment’ creates an incredible logjam of mass weighting down our very ability to retrieve the photographic representation. Even if we could capture it on high fidelity recording – the management of it, the accessing, the brute mechanics of it all strips it of the goosebumps, the awe, the incredible delicacy and fragility. I’ve never looked at a preserved butterfly and seen the real one in my mind’s eye either. Great post… and of course the benefit is that lacking the experience of having been there, my fertile imagination along with your evocative description creates a secondary and totally original ‘monastery in the sky’.
Oh Laurie, and then I read your articulate words, and all the other insightful comments, and it all combines and layers and adds beauty and poignancy to something that was already special. I love imagining that we all now collectively share our own rendition of a ‘monastery in the sky’.
Thank you especially for, “…the management of it, the accessing, the brute mechanics of it all strips it of the goosebumps, the awe, the incredible delicacy and fragility. “
File that wonderful goosebump memory away and recall it when you need cheering up on cold and dreary days in Vancouver. Those brilliant red poppies are blooming here too, but it’s certainly not 31C!
Yes Martha…I think the whole experience, the cool contrast of the church from the heat outside, the dim dusty light pierced by all those intense stained glass windows, the range of their voices, all of it is held in my heart now. No CD, no photos, nothing else could have captured it. You’re right, I’ll shut my eyes and think of that scene whenever I’m wondering if the Vancouver November rain will ever stop 🙂 PS (My photos from that church didn’t turn out either!)
I’m all for buying the independently — well, home — produced CDs of street musicians. Some of the CDs I bring home from Cuba aren’t great quality but the guerilla production methods just speak to the struggle of how many musicians live, playing for “a song”. To me, the poor quality of the recording you bought adds to the poignancy of these men so far from their birthplace staying together to sing their harmonies. It would be great if someone would make a youtube video of them so that perhaps they could be discovered and have the opportunity to make better-quality recordings that do their voices justice. Gotta support live music! It’s one of the best things about travel. Yours sounds an amazing experience…
Thank you Lesley. Especially love, “..the poor quality of the recording you bought adds to the poignancy of these men so far from their birthplace staying together to sing their harmonies.” I like your perspective. It’s so true. And I usually do buy CDs from street musicians, and I too, believe we need to support artists.
But somehow I felt like this particular moment should have been just left as is. I think because I should have known that it could not have possibly been captured on any CD or anything else. Somehow I diminished it by trying to hang on to it. I don’t know if I completely understand yet, why this time especially, it would have been better to just leave with the memory.
Thanks for your articulate thoughts. I really appreciate your words.