Ashes and Oranges

Some years ago, 2006 in fact, I went to a marvelous exhibit called ashes and snow at the Santa Monica Pier, about a mile from where I used to live.  As the flyer  so aptly stated: "These stunning photographic artworks illuminate a timeless realm in which all living things communicate and coexist in a state of grace." The artist, Gregory Colbert, spent 14 years  exploring places in "India, Egypt, Myanmar, Kenya, Sri Lanka, Ethiopia, Tonga, the Azores, Namibia, Antarctica,  and Borneo." His images are magnificently serene and original.  Perhaps one can still access information and images online at ashesandsnow.com. The show was housed uniquely in "the nomadic museum" and I was blown away by the entire experience. It was fabulous!

Again, some years ago, perhaps in 2006, on a visit to the Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco as a guest of my brother, I fell in love with a painting done around 1890 by William J. McCloskey, who coincidentally died the year I was  born. His Oranges in Tissue Paper was not typical (if there is such a thing) of my taste in art, but if there'd been a print available in the Museum Store, I'd have bought it to display at home along with my print of Matisse's "The Girl With the Green Eyes."  Alas, I had to settle for  postcard and greeting card reproductions.  

Just why these works came to mind now is hard to say. But since yesterday was Ash Wednesday and today I am finally marking Lent's beginning here, I suppose that factors in. There is also this: I need relief from the evil that men (and women) do. I need to feel empowered against the stupidly childish antics of those who would be king for a day and (thank God!) who never will be more than the madman in the marketplace. So now I retaliate! My brain works, my heart shares a post-liturgical musing, and you can make of it what you will:

Ashes ... Hidden God and hidden works ... All we do and are is less than nothing by comparison ... What? Need to blow a horn? Get over it. Weep, as did Medal of Honor recipient this week. That past battle never should have been. But lonely courage trudges on: tearful, honest, totally without guile. Ashes remind, cajole, witness... Lurch ahead humbled.

That soldier's Afghan outpost was inadequately protected. He who fought and survived an overwhelming enemy attack, declares oneness with his military brothers, discounts his own heroic actions, laughs with Letterman about that post-battle Dr. Pepper break, and teaches us more than hope.  That ceremony, that Medal, made him re-live a terrible day and I felt guilty that we made him, once again, struggle to hold himself together so publicly. Maybe the sight of his tiny son, gotten loose near the podium, gave us something more than entertainment before the Medal Ceremony. Could the boy have been more innocent, the hero's battle buddy, the one who snatched the child from the stage and delivered him into his mother's arms,  more gentle?  That interlude was another exquisite lesson, one I want the world to see.  

We have ashes; we have snow; we also have oranges in tissue paper. What a marvelous menu to keep  us heart healthy!  

Ashes and Snow (G. Colbert), Oranges in Tissue Paper (W.J.McCloskey)