How lucky are we to enjoy words, art, moving from place to place taking it all in, and the multiple beginnings and endings of this cyclical human life? Yesterday was Monday. It was a big day in the UK: Queen Elizabeth's funeral. After a long moving yoga practice, I gave myself an hour to watch the main service at 11am on the BBC here from Lisbon. The hymns and bagpipes were ringing out hauntingly from Westminster Cathedral sending her on her way. My window was open, so the sound beamed out onto the streets of Graça, where my apartment is. I decided that would be plenty, and to take myself off for a mini afternoon of meandering around the Gulbenkian Museum in the north of the city. It turned out to be the perfect nourishing way to spend a Monday. I scooted over there in style on a rental scooter, route determined by avoiding as many cobbled roads and tram lines as I could. Inside the museum it was beautifully quiet, aside from a large group of french tourists that I just managed to sneak ahead of. I found myself this place to wander slowly and take in little pieces of Persia, Turkey, Egypt, Italy, England and France. It's a tricky thing to articulate how travel, writing, art and wisdom traditions can stir the soul and tickle your insides with wonderful and peculiar feelings. But I find I need this often. It's no so good if I forget. To meet in different places, in ancient hand-made creations and captured prose, a glimpse of the wild ideas, creativity and feelings of other people in another space and time, feels like landing in a web of timeless passionate expression. What if these folks didn't write? What if they didn't paint or sculpt or weave silver thread through silk coats? I was totally enamoured with some of the 13th century Persian poems, and 17th century Sufi devotions to love shared in the exhibits: Longing "Though my heart is burned by sorrow ever more, it becomes more attached to you at every moment; Beware! Do not say anything as in this injured heart of mine, fire will be more inflamed every moment by your breath." Path "Life is a path of discovery and wonder, but also one of patience and perseverance: the Sufi knows that the rose has perfume, but also thorns. A true Sufi is he or she who tames their ego through the challenges of life, and polishes their heart like a mirror so it reflects Divine Light (Nūr). The centre of the rose hides the secret of its fragrance. And so the Sufi way (tarīqah) connects the outer dimension of life to its inner essence. It is an intimate journey of transformation; departing from a condition of ignorance to achieving the highest levels of wisdom and peace (Salām). So that the fragrance may spread, throughout humanity and the universe, like a stream of wisdom and love." So divine! I hope you can sense why I needed to quickly share a flavour of this day with you. I'm easily floored by beautiful words. As I continued, there was so much to take in with the eyes as well... My mind was cast off into imagining the messy studios, the potters wheels and paints, the flair and despair of bringing some of these depictions into the world. Sufi sketches. Roman sculptures. Turkish pottery. Modern exhibits by Portuguese artist Jorge Quieroz, and a Monet tucked in at the bottom left there. There were quite a few mutterings of "wow" and "f**k" - each corner I turned to find more amazing creations. The curators didn't let me get bored or stuck in a rhythm with a whole load of the same stuff either. There were loads of impressive and sweet surprises, and the whole space is just the right size for someone of my attention span. It's all set in stunning gardens of green as well, so time for an outdoor coffee break between spaces - or a great place to linger for the whole afternoon with a book in the shade. As I came towards the end of my three hours wandering the exhibitions, I was so touched to read the reflection (pictured right at top of the post) Journey to Portugal, 1981. It landed like a sweet balm. The power of settling into a life of cycles instead of a life of straight lines. The spiralling nature of our attention, taking things in for the first time, and taking them in again and again in fresh, beautiful and ever-renewing ways. Finding a place for the inner and outer seasons of our days and years. Being at ease with change, just like nature is at ease. The telling of our stories, the making of our art to touch and inspire one another, And the wry closing hint at our human potential for misunderstanding - the blame for which lies... somewhere in the spaces between the spirals?
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AuthorJill is the Founder & Facilitator at Heart & Roots. Archives
September 2024
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