livingincoronavirusworld 106: ...stronger than the weakness of those who create them...

7/8

Morningside

Our underground session has a couple of major themes this week.  One of course is response to the recent live streaming of Hamilton. We are in agreement that it is more about the future than the past.

Steve P compares it to I and II Chronicles…a rather late  telling o the David story. (C. 400BCE?)  Telling of the story as it might have been had we done it right….The characters in Hamilton being like grafittied statues.  As for me it was a never was pointing towards a could be…

We talked about statues. And iconoclasm. Outrage replacing conversation. That statues can be like Greek Orthodox icons that you look through in order to see into another world, or simply deeper reality.  And the difference between icons and idols. Icons never become the object of worship, they always point towards…

Steve reminds us of Willam Sloane Coffin, Jr.s three kinds of patriotism:

* Loveless criticism

* Uncritical love

* Lovers quarrel

Obviously it was the last he called us to.

We spent a lot of time exploring a house metaphor for our country. Steve H, typically saying we all live in the same house and need to figure out how to get along. Steve P arguing that many don’t see it that way. That they are in the house and the rest in, at best, the out house. 

Dre wants to explore the work of forgiveness and how that fits into Black Lives Matter. Which leads into my differentiation between forgiveness and reconciliation. That as  friend once said, no hay reconciliation sin reconstruction,  there is no reconciliation without reconstruction. And as another friend once said, Forgiveness is giving up for all time the hope of a different past.

One of the issues standing in the way of effective forgiveness is our own capacity for forgiving ourselves, including denial. 

I recommend  Simon Wiesentahl's "The Sunflower: the limits and possibilities of forgiveness..."

Stephen H has been to spend a night with “Occupy City Hall,” which started out as an extension of the Black Lives Matter protest and now has evolved in broader, less focused ways. And it the moment, they seem ready to live out the whole tragic history of  Occupy Wall Street like a binged TV series. 

We finish with the words from the Declaration of Independence, “…all men are created equal..endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights…” To this, as to Hamilton, I say, art, and ideas..are stronger than the weakness of those who create them.

I walk past the  St.James Gate, our favorite gathering place, closed these many months. Dion and David and a work crew are hard at work under the direction of Paul the owner aiming for some kind fo reopening. How any bar/restaurants have survived is a mystery.  

Teddy's still here, but not for long....

I continue down 81st to the Museum of Natural History to check on the status of the Teddy Roosevelt statue, with its paternalistic imagery due for removal. He’s still there, but protected by a contingent of police to keep him safe until he leaves. 

Getting the Gate ready...

My friend Heide Hatry, who creates portraits out of cremation ashes,(https://www.heidehatry.com/icons_art.html) in a  dialogue with an art historian who has focused on reliquaries, those art works constructed to house some particle of a blessed saint’s body. At some point, I thrill to see the connection between Heide’s work and reliquaries. Though her work is entitled “icons in ash,” they aren’t exactly icons because they actually contain part of the subject.

There is much to talk about since so many deaths went unrecognized during the pandemic, many people  had no way to say goodbye. So much left unsaid, untouched, undone. We are a very long way from resolution. 

Death/Life

Death/Life

10/30

Icons in Ash

Last week in New York City, there was a week long exploration of the end of life. The organizers described their mission in this way: Reimagine End of Life is a community-wide exploration of death and celebration of life through creativity and conversation. Drawing on the arts, spirituality, healthcare, and design, we create weeklong series of events that break down taboos and bring diverse communities together in wonder, preparation, and remembrance. 

My friend Heide Hatry once again exhibited her profound Icons in Ash collection of portraits  made from creation remains... and as usual, accompanied the exhibit with performances by an eclectic array of music and spoken word performances.

Christine Isherwood and Mike Handdelman

This was my contribution..... 

When the night has come  and the land  is dark
And the moon the only light I see
I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid 
Just as long as you stand by me.
Stand by me, Oh darling stand by me..

I sang for my neighbors as they gathered in the community garden in the middle of 115th in a memorial  service. When I stopped on my way to  a gig earlier this afternoon, a Baptist preacher in a fine suit was rendering a prayer. When I return hours later after the  gig, they're still there. Playing music, grilling food.

I sang this song for them before. At a sidewalk birthday party. In the cool of the evening on long summer nights, the folks without airconditoning gather  outside our building to share  food, drink and talk. The  woman they celebrate, "Cuz",was part of that circle. So they ask me, "Bob with the guitar," to sing for them.  That's how  they know me. The only way the know me. I like that.

In my old life, death was a regular part of it. Old faithful members in their  due time. Teenagers dead by the One train. Tragic and too soon. Gay men dead of AIDS, their bodies snatched away by parents who wanted to pretend their partners didn't exist. Partners now left bereft and alone. A kitchen worker from Barney Greengrass. And homeless men who died with my card in their pocket.

I always said I liked funerals as much or more as weddings. Marking a moment after which nothing would ever be the same again. Each life a complete universe of and to itself with its own interconnected planetary systems, galaxies. Narrative arcs. A world dies in each death. I always felt privileged to be present in these moments.  Now in my new life, not so much.

So strange, then,  this weekend to encounter it three times. In a long delayed family memorial for one also an icon in ash. The time flowing gently into an open mic. Then accompanying the ashes of a friend's wife from a Chelsea funeral home back to the Upper West Side. His wife of 37 years beside me in a simple box in an ecofriendly reusable bag. From funeral a home to Whole Foods. I place the bag on the bar stool beside him. He speaks to her. The bartender pours four shots of Hennesy, her favorite drink. We toast. And drink.

They have joined me in harmony. The stakes are high. See the woman over there, she is a real singer. She's gotta sing with you, they say...And now they want another song. What could I sing? (When I told my son about my not knowing what to sing, my son said, Dad they knew you were white when they asked you to sing..it's you they want..) So I play the song I wrote for Teddy the pipefitter, the Occupier, the guy who understood a vision so clear he'd do anything for it or me. He died in his sleep at the church. Soon surrounded by a circle of flamenco dancers from downstairs, crossing them selves with Salve Marias  and Padre Nostros as his soul took flight.

Rest awhile,I said rest awhile
Come away and rest awhile
Rest awhile,I said rest awhile
Come away and rest awhile
When the crowd is so demanding and the need is so great and you feel like you just can't go on,
Then walk beside me and soon you will see the victory is already won and you can
Rest awhile...


Again they join in. Wringing every ounce of Gospel they can find from my song. Then more drinks poured. Stories told of families living on this street 50-60 years or more. Of Luigi who built this garden. And life flows on. On into the night.....

Rest awhile,I said rest awhile
Come away and rest awhile
Rest awhile,I said rest awhile
Come away and rest awhile

                                                                     Rest Awhile

                                                                 Stand by Me

                                                        https://letsreimagine.org