My objectives today are twofold: to make my way to the American Church in Paris for the 11 am service: and then, to the Opera Bastille, where I hope to arrive in time to stand in line for an inexpensive ticket to see the final performance of Mozart's Don Giovanni. Please wish me luck (retroactively, since I am writing this now at what is 2:29 am, Central Time, and you may not see it until many hours later).
I had so wished to see an Opera at the Palais Garnier, the majestic and beautiful old opera house; however, the Opera Bastille (a frighteningly modern-looking place that apparently produces operas in a modern style) is where Mozart is playing. Of course, at this point even going there may just turn out to be a pipe dream, but I'm on a mission.
I am very much in need of some spiritual refreshment. Church and my prayer life have not been regularly maintained and so it will be good to get a boost in church today. Needless to say, my time at Notre Dame Cathedral was incredible, and I just may pop in for a mass on occasion, should time and opportunity present themselves this week.
My friend Susan F. just sent me the link to a most amazing piece, "For the Traveler," which so beautifully captures the spirit I seek to realise when I travel. It is a beautiful and timely reminder for me, particularly this section, since I am continuing to "free my heart of ballast." Freeing my heart, as I wrote in one of my earliest posts, is not done by distance, but by time. Simply crossing the ocean does not make a difference; however, using this journey as an opportunity to explore new dimensions within myself is the key to creating a new perspective of life and love.
A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
The entire piece can be found here: https://ivor.wordpress.com/2015/10/17/for-the-traveler/.
Well, I have two hours to get up, get dressed, get breakfast and get the Metro before the church service starts. I must be moving on.
Happy Sunday, everyone!
7:15 p.m. here, and I just came home.
I made it to church — it's all the way out near Pont L'Alma, right in the neighbourhood of the Eiffel Tower. The church was packed from top to bottom. I loved the hymns — when we sang "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" to the tune of Beethoven's Ninth, I thought my heart would burst with happiness. If only we had just sung. Could not figure out what the point of the sermon was. To paraphrase the emperor in Amadeus again, "too many words." But I'm really glad I went. This week they are celebrating the 50th anniversary of Dr. M.L. King's visit there, after he had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. It seems to be a very vibrant place, with lots of young families and children, old folks, middle-aged; English, American, and huge Filipino and African communities.
After church I walked across Pont L'Alma, going north across the river; and, although I was now on the Rive Droite, I behaved in a pretty gauche manner, just addressing a group of people in general who were waiting at a stoplight: "does anyone here know where the Metro stop is?" And an American laughed and pointed me in the right direction.
I took the subway all the way back across town, with one station change, to the Bastille stop and arrived at L'Opera Bastille, where — ta da — I was successful in getting a ticket at a discount rate. Mozart's music is, of course, incredible, and the voices were sublime. The opera lasted for three hours and 40 minutes (including a 35 minute intermission). It was an incredible experience, although I must say I do not like the Opera Bastille building. It functions well, but it is so ugly. And the costumes and the set and the staging? Just … I don't know what to say, other than it actually made me angry because it was so distracting. The chorus came out with scrub buckets and mops and was dressed in purple and teal janitorial costumes, and for the office party, they donned ugly mouse masks. And at the end, Il Commandatore came out in a wheelchair, wearing a bucket-shaped, white cone on his head that was lit up from within, and his voice sounded like it was recorded or something. I had been told that L'Opera Bastille's mission is to bring music to the masses; however, I really doubt that any maids or street cleaners were in the audience! If I hadn't wanted to read the translated libretto above the stage (the surtitles), I would have kept my eyes closed the entire time, because when all I experienced was the voices and the music it was divine.
After the opera I asked an usher for help in figuring out how to return home on the Metro. It took three people who discussed it for quite some time; however, they ended up giving me good directions, and I made my way home with no problem at all.
So, hallelujah on all counts today.
—————————————————
7:15 p.m. here, and I just came home.
I made it to church — it's all the way out near Pont L'Alma, right in the neighbourhood of the Eiffel Tower. The church was packed from top to bottom. I loved the hymns — when we sang "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" to the tune of Beethoven's Ninth, I thought my heart would burst with happiness. If only we had just sung. Could not figure out what the point of the sermon was. To paraphrase the emperor in Amadeus again, "too many words." But I'm really glad I went. This week they are celebrating the 50th anniversary of Dr. M.L. King's visit there, after he had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. It seems to be a very vibrant place, with lots of young families and children, old folks, middle-aged; English, American, and huge Filipino and African communities.
After church I walked across Pont L'Alma, going north across the river; and, although I was now on the Rive Droite, I behaved in a pretty gauche manner, just addressing a group of people in general who were waiting at a stoplight: "does anyone here know where the Metro stop is?" And an American laughed and pointed me in the right direction.
I took the subway all the way back across town, with one station change, to the Bastille stop and arrived at L'Opera Bastille, where — ta da — I was successful in getting a ticket at a discount rate. Mozart's music is, of course, incredible, and the voices were sublime. The opera lasted for three hours and 40 minutes (including a 35 minute intermission). It was an incredible experience, although I must say I do not like the Opera Bastille building. It functions well, but it is so ugly. And the costumes and the set and the staging? Just … I don't know what to say, other than it actually made me angry because it was so distracting. The chorus came out with scrub buckets and mops and was dressed in purple and teal janitorial costumes, and for the office party, they donned ugly mouse masks. And at the end, Il Commandatore came out in a wheelchair, wearing a bucket-shaped, white cone on his head that was lit up from within, and his voice sounded like it was recorded or something. I had been told that L'Opera Bastille's mission is to bring music to the masses; however, I really doubt that any maids or street cleaners were in the audience! If I hadn't wanted to read the translated libretto above the stage (the surtitles), I would have kept my eyes closed the entire time, because when all I experienced was the voices and the music it was divine.
After the opera I asked an usher for help in figuring out how to return home on the Metro. It took three people who discussed it for quite some time; however, they ended up giving me good directions, and I made my way home with no problem at all.
So, hallelujah on all counts today.
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