As I mentioned previously in another post, I visited the ruins of Machu Picchu last year. From the heights of the Andes to the depths of the Urumbamba, the landscape is breathtakingly beautiful. The precarious avenues to reach Machu Picchu make the vastness of its heavy stone construction that much more cryptic and mysterious. No one knows the reason why the Incas built that sacred city, or why they suddenly vanished and left it abandoned. To be honest, I don't think anyone really cares outside the archeologists and sociologists of this world. I know the last thing on my mind when I experienced Machu Picchu was the why of it all. I was too caught up in the connection my soul instantly felt to worry about details like who and what and when.
There is a strong rhythm with the earth at Machu Picchu, built on the partnership the Incas had with the stars and sun and moon. Their society depended on celestial anchors to time their agricultural output by the equinox and solstice and movement of the constellations in the night sky. They reflected the beauty of the entire landscape, from dirt to star, in their rituals and sacred monuments. You can feel the human spirit at Machu Picchu, and that's one of my favorite memories.
Think about what inspires you each day, what motivates you, what captivates you. Historical dates? Political arguments? We're all interested in those things, we discuss them, but no matter the outcome of politics, the world doesn't send greeting cards with pictures of laws, bills, or debates on the front.
No, we send the Mona Lisa. We send pictures of babies, sunsets, birthday cakes, flowers, lakes, porchswings...we send what inspires us, what moves us.
I am certain that after the dust of centuries has passed over our cities, we, too, will be remembered not for our victories or defeats in battle or in politics, but for our contribution to the human spirit ~ John F. Kennedy
That's printed on the back of the brochure for the Kennedy Center. Elizabeth and I attended a free performance on the Millenium Stage at the Kennedy Center Saturday, March 27th. Let me describe it as it happened.
Walking into the Kennedy Center, I'm immediately struck by the reverent grandeur of the endless sea of colors flowing from the flags towering above me on the ceiling of the Hall of Nations. I am walking on red carpet, 1960's inspired design is everywhere. Metals are brassy, and walls and steps are dullish white from the hint of yellowing over the years. Skinny and sleek miniature lines are all around as the basis and structure for railings on stairs, echoing the very slim columns that reach like oversized toothpicks from ground to roof surrounding the Kennedy Center building. The look is kitschy at times, its modernity left behind in another era, but a classy era to be sure.
We walk to the end of the hallway hurriedly to catch the daily 6:00 p.m. show on the Millenium Stage. I glance above us and to my right as we are turning to go left, and my breath is momentarily halted as I drink in the magnificently gleaming crystal chandeliers that form a nearly endless line down the hallway. Glinting like diamonds, they are stunning in their splendor. The ushers direct us to the steps along the sides of the chairs that are already filled with patrons, and we are relegated to sit on the very red, very hard, very thin stairs. Our program reads like a high school musical production:
A Performance by Winners of the
4th Annual John and Susie Beatty Music Scholarship Competition for Classical Guitar
Youth Division 1st Place
(contestants 12 and under)
PATRICK HOEPPNER
Junior Division 1st Place
(contestants aged 13-15)
YOUNG JUN LIM
Senior Division 1st Place and Grand Prize Winner
(contestants aged 16-18)
SCOTT ZIMMERMANN
4th Annual John and Susie Beatty Music Scholarship Competition for Classical Guitar
Youth Division 1st Place
(contestants 12 and under)
PATRICK HOEPPNER
Junior Division 1st Place
(contestants aged 13-15)
YOUNG JUN LIM
Senior Division 1st Place and Grand Prize Winner
(contestants aged 16-18)
SCOTT ZIMMERMANN
Seeing the ages of the performers, I go back in time to my years in middle school, and partially high school, and I can hear the many out of tune squeaks of the clarinet, sticky fingered strums of the guitar, and off beat bangs of the drum we all endured in band while performing for our parents at the required annual "shows" to demonstrate our very apparent lack of talent. But that junior high scenario is not to be this night. As the first performer, Patrick Hoeppner, takes the stage, looking every bit his 12 and under age bracket, the flesh of my quickly numbing behind on the flat hard surface of the step I sit upon doesn't bother me at all because I am completely blown away by this boy's talent.
Patrick Hoeppner's hands fly over the strings of his instrument, and the works he plays are complicated, tricky, and robust in composition. The melodies reverberate through the auditorium perfectly, meticulously, beautifully. We clap exuberantly for him when he is finished, and enters Young Jun Lim, who is even better. We clap for this young man, as well, when he leaves the stage and enters Scott Zimmerman. Again, we're speechless and cannot keep our hands from clapping his praise when he lays his guitar down.
I basque in the performances as I float down the red carpet toward the Hall of Nations again. We walk through the gift shop in the basement level, and I see black and white photos of Jacqueline Kennedy, First Lady to JFK. She is youthful and stunning and poised. She is grace and dignity personified. I imagine her walking on the arm of JFK into a crowded Opera House performance above us while photographers snap her photo as she smiles pleasantly, dressed modestly in velvet and organza with the trademark triple string of pearls around her elegantly arched neck. I hear her soft voice whispering hello to all of the ladies who so badly want to be like her, and feel the gentle trace of her soft fingers, adorned by sophisticated silky elbow-length gloves, delicately clasping the hands of all the men who so badly want to have a wife like her to proudly escort to events just as this one. Ah yes, I think, men date the Marilyn Monroes of this world, but they marry the Jacqueline Kennedies.
Sigh. I am envious of her. As I walk back up the stairs toward the exit where the shuttle waits to take us back to our Metro stop so we can go home, I dream of a night where I can come back to the Kennedy Center and attend a paid performance, not only for the inspiration and calming effect such performances have on my soul, but for the chance to wear my pearls and feel slightly Kennedyesque, if only for a moment.
As we exit, I read the JFK quote on the back of my brochure again and am reminded of why I love the arts so much. He is right. Our contribution to the human spirit will matter more in many years time than our victories on the battlefield or in political staterooms will. Machu Picchu taught me that, and the Kennedy Center echoes it.
If you get the chance to visit Washington, DC, I urge you to attend a performance at the Kennedy Center. There is one on the Millenium Stage each night at 6:00 p.m. that is free, just as the one I attended. Do it for your soul, do it for the chance to walk where presidents and first ladies and other dignitaries have walked to experience the awakening of their hearts, but do it mostly because it's free. It's a very cheap price for memories like this.
Patrick Hoeppner's hands fly over the strings of his instrument, and the works he plays are complicated, tricky, and robust in composition. The melodies reverberate through the auditorium perfectly, meticulously, beautifully. We clap exuberantly for him when he is finished, and enters Young Jun Lim, who is even better. We clap for this young man, as well, when he leaves the stage and enters Scott Zimmerman. Again, we're speechless and cannot keep our hands from clapping his praise when he lays his guitar down.
I basque in the performances as I float down the red carpet toward the Hall of Nations again. We walk through the gift shop in the basement level, and I see black and white photos of Jacqueline Kennedy, First Lady to JFK. She is youthful and stunning and poised. She is grace and dignity personified. I imagine her walking on the arm of JFK into a crowded Opera House performance above us while photographers snap her photo as she smiles pleasantly, dressed modestly in velvet and organza with the trademark triple string of pearls around her elegantly arched neck. I hear her soft voice whispering hello to all of the ladies who so badly want to be like her, and feel the gentle trace of her soft fingers, adorned by sophisticated silky elbow-length gloves, delicately clasping the hands of all the men who so badly want to have a wife like her to proudly escort to events just as this one. Ah yes, I think, men date the Marilyn Monroes of this world, but they marry the Jacqueline Kennedies.
Sigh. I am envious of her. As I walk back up the stairs toward the exit where the shuttle waits to take us back to our Metro stop so we can go home, I dream of a night where I can come back to the Kennedy Center and attend a paid performance, not only for the inspiration and calming effect such performances have on my soul, but for the chance to wear my pearls and feel slightly Kennedyesque, if only for a moment.
As we exit, I read the JFK quote on the back of my brochure again and am reminded of why I love the arts so much. He is right. Our contribution to the human spirit will matter more in many years time than our victories on the battlefield or in political staterooms will. Machu Picchu taught me that, and the Kennedy Center echoes it.
If you get the chance to visit Washington, DC, I urge you to attend a performance at the Kennedy Center. There is one on the Millenium Stage each night at 6:00 p.m. that is free, just as the one I attended. Do it for your soul, do it for the chance to walk where presidents and first ladies and other dignitaries have walked to experience the awakening of their hearts, but do it mostly because it's free. It's a very cheap price for memories like this.
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