Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Finding the Places of Hope

The more we lose, the more we come close to the reality of what it is to be human. Which is to accept our weaknesses, to discover that they’re beautiful. So many people are running around doing lots of things, but they’re controlled by anguish.
Jean Vanier 

Henry, Oliver and I went to LACMA last night and visited The Rain Room. It's a very cool installation -- a sqaure room with constant rain fall, except around yourself. You can walk very slowly through rain yet not under rain, if that makes sense.

I always struggle a bit with the pretension inherent in museums. Then I walked through the room along with my sons and other Angelenos. I was charmed.

If you rush or run, you get wet. If you stand still or walk ever so slowly, you're cocooned and able to hear the rain and see it, but it doesn't touch you. There's all kind of metaphor in that, no?

Have I ever told you how much I love Los Angeles?

We also wandered into the Diana Thater exhibit which was some kind of multi-media show about the imagination.

Cool stuff. We were there less than an hour and home 45 minutes later. Gratitude.

I know I've written quite a bit about Jean Vanier and L'Arche here on the old blog. He's my hero. Ian Brown, the terrific Canadian journalist whose book A Boy in the Moon I wrote about years ago when it came out, wrote this terrific profile about Vanier. Read it if you feel hopeless. Read it if your life is filled with riches, both material and spiritual or delirious and spine-tingling sex.

Jean Vanier's comfort and joy: 'What we have to do is find the places of hope'


  1. Thank you for that extraordinary piece on Jean Vanier.

    And your boys are stunningly beautiful in the rain. And in life. So are you, my dear friend. Stunning.

  2. That's how Seattle natives move through the rain. No umbrellas no hurry we don't really get wet only the tourists suffer. Loved this description love you.

  3. Oh my gosh. Read it from a link from Erika. Wow. Stirred so much in me. Wishing. Wanting. Wondering. About life with Zoey. Now. And later. And those who surround us currently and who are on this journey with us for the long haul. The minute I began reading and saw, "my son Walker" I just new the piece would be extraordinary.

  4. extraordinary, that rain room. My mind reels, "how do they DO that?" and then I blow a fuse. I love the places you experience with your children; you're raising up thoughtful, feeling humans. I'm going to ck out this author, as I am in the dark about him and he sounds so beautiful and real. Thank you.

  5. Amazing. Amazing. And that picture of Henry- he looks like an old-time movie star. You and your children are beautiful inside and outside. And you- you are brilliant. In every sense of that word.

  6. Lovely post, and I'd love to roll around in that Rain installation...Thanks to your link, I've fallen in love with the oh so sarcastic Terence Winch...I keep telling myself that one day I'll write a similar piece around the crock of crap known as,"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," which I have the misfortune to hear all the time...

    Merry Christmas, Elizabeth and hugs to your beautiful trio. You are a wonderful mom.

  7. How cool is that rain room? The native peoples here say you must make friends with the rain. It is a constant companion to be sure. I always enjoy your post museum with the boys posts.

  8. Of course I clicked on spine-tingling sex. I enjoyed that post too. What fabulous photos at LACMA.

  9. What a great exhibit! I wonder how it works? I mean, I guess there are sensors and all that, but I'd love to know more about how it all functions. The kids look great, and so do you!

  10. Angel - the man who rebuilt this house, and whom occasionally does repair jobs, told me once that rain doesn't bother him: he can work in the dry space between rain drops.
    You live in an amazing city.

  11. Luminous photos. The pie-shaped chunk from Henry's cheek pouring out light (and his transparent ear) -- incredible. Love the Rain Room and these amazing photos. Love you and your intense, present mind and heart. I hope to be more "here" this year, to read, write, experience, love and learn. And sometimes, (like when I look at your Rain Room photos), to simply be amazed and grateful.



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...