Rona, I'm taken with your observation that when we leave a comment we are doing something not entirely different from the woman showing you the church. Commenters can sometimes reveal something about a writer's piece that the writer didn't think of. And what is more trompe l'oeil than words on a screen that show us a three dimensional scene?
How amazing that she waited there each lunchtime to share that hidden treasure! I'd have loved that. When I learned about trompe l'oeil in art lessons at school, and then saw the violin and bow at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, I was mesmerised!
Her students were lucky to have her. I just looked up the violin and bow. You really can’t capture the magic. You have to be there. Presence is part of the magic.
When I read your piece, this popped into my mind. It's an incident I haven't thought about for years. After walking about the inside of a traditional, working windmill in Holland, the old man who owned it appeared, and grabbed my hand. He dragged me to the centre where a huge tub held the freshly ground grain. I was afraid, as gears groaned overhead, and I was alone. But he forced my hand into the contents of the giant container. The freshly ground grain was so fine to the touch and so warm, that I broke into a wide smile. I felt connected to the grain, the fields, the water and the sun. When he saw my face, he, too, broke into a huge smile and nodded, knowingly, of the magic that experience produced for me.
I loved this post. I wracked my brain to come up with a similar experience and can't lay my brain on one right now. The closest are the times I've look at strangers and felt an overwhelming sense of love towards them without a word of exchange being spoken. There is truly beauty in love.
Oh, Linda. I shouldn’t have made you work so hard. Perhaps it’s time to ease up on these questions. Love is so much bigger than you think it is when you first start looking for The Obe.
Lovely post, as ever. ( I think I am constantly saying as ever.) I already wrote about a similar (not identical) experience in Encounter in Rome. Is there something about Italy that sparks special meetings?
My moment of beauty came on my first trip outside the US. I was thirty-two, traveling alone in Venice, Italy. I took a vaporetto to Murano to see the glass museum. When I arrived, they had just closed for a 2 hour lunch. But the guard at the gate let me in, then took me on a personal tour of the entire museum, including where they were repairing pieces. His tiny bit of English matched my tiny bit of Italian, yet he managed to make me understand who did each piece, and some of its history. Nearly 50 years later, I still marvel at my luck in having this experience.
My whole life, I've been a writer, a reader, a devourer of words and the images they portray.
These days, it comes in waves - the struggle to continue to write versus the determination to keep going because NO ONE is taking that away from me.
It's difficult to see the beauty, feel the love and the joy when there is so much out there that batters the soul - but taking the time to see it - to feel it - to create it? That's life.
This was a great reminder to me to keep looking for the beauty amidst the torment. To keep writing the stories that show the world I want to live in - where all people are accepted for who they are and the bad guys lose/good guys win and love wins every time.
Once again, you have brought beauty to us by your writing. It’s a pleasure to read your column every week.
Travel brings unexpected pleasures, doesn’t it? We just returned from a lovely trip to Scotland. We were on our own for part of the time, and then on a tour led by traditional musicians, seeing Heritage sites and hearing songs that were relevant to those sites. And then filled with the joy of traditional music every night with a concert. This is our second time on that kind of tour with these leaders.
It was wonderful to be back in Scotland just wandering around Edinburgh on our own. It was our third time there and we’re really getting to know that beautiful city.
With so much going on in our country, it was nice to get the relief of not thinking about the horrors going on here. The cage is very evident to those of us paying attention and it’s heartbreaking. Who knows how it will end but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to end very well.
But now I want to tell you about an experience I had when traveling alone many years ago in France. I was in Arles where van Gogh lived for a while. I happen to meet up with other single travelers, and we spent some time together. It was a time when people could be friendly and not fear that there was something negative that was going to happen as a single woman traveling. and being on my own rather than a couple, I think it allowed me to be more accessible to other single people traveling. I feel very lucky to have had those encounters in Arles, where there happened to be a van Gogh exhibit in the sanitarium right near where I was staying. The ancient Colosseum, that was there, built by the Romans, happen to have a running of the bulls and a display of horses from the Camarck (sp) region. It’s a beautiful memory now coming back to me.
Traveling really does broaden one. Even if one can’t travel abroad so easily, there are adventures and people to meet wherever you go.
"Sixty-odd years later, I’m still asking what became of justice. The news has become a hanging cage where the powerless die clutching air as the privileged go about their business. Beauty fixes none of this." — Oh. Rona. I am grateful for the woman in black, the memory of that moment countering the days in which we live.
Rona, I'm taken with your observation that when we leave a comment we are doing something not entirely different from the woman showing you the church. Commenters can sometimes reveal something about a writer's piece that the writer didn't think of. And what is more trompe l'oeil than words on a screen that show us a three dimensional scene?
Well, what do you know, David? I hadn’t thought of that. Your observation would delight my father, who enjoyed hokding forth on Art and Life.
Comments let the writer know they have been heard.
That’s why I try to answer every one.
David (and Rona), how true this is! Commenters add so much with their unexpectedly thoughtful perspectives.
Absolutely. This is why I can’t imagine paywalling comments.
How amazing that she waited there each lunchtime to share that hidden treasure! I'd have loved that. When I learned about trompe l'oeil in art lessons at school, and then saw the violin and bow at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, I was mesmerised!
Her students were lucky to have her. I just looked up the violin and bow. You really can’t capture the magic. You have to be there. Presence is part of the magic.
Absolutely! You have to be there!
Great story. I could imagine the woman's voice, the silence inside the church, the hush of amazement while gazing at the illusion of the altar's size.
Thank you, Frederick. Glad I could take you there.
The next time I'm on Italy?
When I read your piece, this popped into my mind. It's an incident I haven't thought about for years. After walking about the inside of a traditional, working windmill in Holland, the old man who owned it appeared, and grabbed my hand. He dragged me to the centre where a huge tub held the freshly ground grain. I was afraid, as gears groaned overhead, and I was alone. But he forced my hand into the contents of the giant container. The freshly ground grain was so fine to the touch and so warm, that I broke into a wide smile. I felt connected to the grain, the fields, the water and the sun. When he saw my face, he, too, broke into a huge smile and nodded, knowingly, of the magic that experience produced for me.
What a beautiful vignette. He had learned, through the years, that this experience so familiar to him was captivating to newcomers like you.
I loved this post. I wracked my brain to come up with a similar experience and can't lay my brain on one right now. The closest are the times I've look at strangers and felt an overwhelming sense of love towards them without a word of exchange being spoken. There is truly beauty in love.
Oh, Linda. I shouldn’t have made you work so hard. Perhaps it’s time to ease up on these questions. Love is so much bigger than you think it is when you first start looking for The Obe.
I don’t mind exercising my brain. 😆
Beauty is this post, Rona Maynard
Aww, thanks, Danny. Wish I could tell my father!
He’s as close as your heart to you. I think you have told him.
Hoback, meet "Hoebeke - (pronounced Hoe - beck)" we've got to be connected somehow!
I think you are right. Glad o meet you.
Lovely post, as ever. ( I think I am constantly saying as ever.) I already wrote about a similar (not identical) experience in Encounter in Rome. Is there something about Italy that sparks special meetings?
There is something about lots of places if you take the time to notice. The right guide is a huge help. I’m glad you enjoyed this, Ann.
My moment of beauty came on my first trip outside the US. I was thirty-two, traveling alone in Venice, Italy. I took a vaporetto to Murano to see the glass museum. When I arrived, they had just closed for a 2 hour lunch. But the guard at the gate let me in, then took me on a personal tour of the entire museum, including where they were repairing pieces. His tiny bit of English matched my tiny bit of Italian, yet he managed to make me understand who did each piece, and some of its history. Nearly 50 years later, I still marvel at my luck in having this experience.
Such kindness in a city with a reputation for rudeness. I’ll bet he enjoyed seeing familiar pieces through the astonished eyes od a first-timer.
My whole life, I've been a writer, a reader, a devourer of words and the images they portray.
These days, it comes in waves - the struggle to continue to write versus the determination to keep going because NO ONE is taking that away from me.
It's difficult to see the beauty, feel the love and the joy when there is so much out there that batters the soul - but taking the time to see it - to feel it - to create it? That's life.
This was a great reminder to me to keep looking for the beauty amidst the torment. To keep writing the stories that show the world I want to live in - where all people are accepted for who they are and the bad guys lose/good guys win and love wins every time.
Every time you put a story of hopeful acceptance into the world, you encourage someone else to the same. More hope, more acceptance.
Victor Frankl said it this way (paraphrase), "They can take everything I have from me, but they can't take my right to choose my own attitude!"
Exactly. Thanks, Bob. Frankl belongs in this conversation.
This, this here answers your father’s question.
Thanks so much, Rachel. I am blessed to have good readers like you.
beautiful... thank you Rona.
Debbie, it’s a pleasure to have you as a reader.
Once again, you have brought beauty to us by your writing. It’s a pleasure to read your column every week.
Travel brings unexpected pleasures, doesn’t it? We just returned from a lovely trip to Scotland. We were on our own for part of the time, and then on a tour led by traditional musicians, seeing Heritage sites and hearing songs that were relevant to those sites. And then filled with the joy of traditional music every night with a concert. This is our second time on that kind of tour with these leaders.
It was wonderful to be back in Scotland just wandering around Edinburgh on our own. It was our third time there and we’re really getting to know that beautiful city.
With so much going on in our country, it was nice to get the relief of not thinking about the horrors going on here. The cage is very evident to those of us paying attention and it’s heartbreaking. Who knows how it will end but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to end very well.
But now I want to tell you about an experience I had when traveling alone many years ago in France. I was in Arles where van Gogh lived for a while. I happen to meet up with other single travelers, and we spent some time together. It was a time when people could be friendly and not fear that there was something negative that was going to happen as a single woman traveling. and being on my own rather than a couple, I think it allowed me to be more accessible to other single people traveling. I feel very lucky to have had those encounters in Arles, where there happened to be a van Gogh exhibit in the sanitarium right near where I was staying. The ancient Colosseum, that was there, built by the Romans, happen to have a running of the bulls and a display of horses from the Camarck (sp) region. It’s a beautiful memory now coming back to me.
Traveling really does broaden one. Even if one can’t travel abroad so easily, there are adventures and people to meet wherever you go.
Thank you, Nancy. It’s a treat to share the history and culture of a new place with other curious travellers.
This essay is exquisite, Rona, and so moving.
I’m delighted you enjoyed it, Ruth. Thank you.
What is beauty? Where did justice go?
You don't shy from the tough questions.
A high compliment, Jill. Sometimes I ask myself, “What have I got myself into? And how am I going to get out?”
Lovely! Restacked with comment. Now I am scrolling my memories for a chance encounter with beauty and a stranger…coming up short this morning. 😞
Now you know where to go (and not to go) on your next visit to Milan.
"Sixty-odd years later, I’m still asking what became of justice. The news has become a hanging cage where the powerless die clutching air as the privileged go about their business. Beauty fixes none of this." — Oh. Rona. I am grateful for the woman in black, the memory of that moment countering the days in which we live.
Beth, your response means a lot. I know you are profoundly aware of the hanging cage.
oh, I am. desperately aware.