Soul Boxes

Soul boxes. That’s the sum of us. Our corporeal dimension anyway....We’re souls held captive by the bodies that surround them.

Lately, Michelangelo’s renowned "The Captive Slave” which and whom I find utterly riveting has been on my mind. It itself is not here in Paris, however his accompaniments, the other Captive Slaves, are actually here at the Louvre:



Michelangelo’s approach to “sculpting”--his preferred medium of expressing the art within himself--was that he was merely the vessel and means by which the sculpture inside the marble with which he worked with was to be released and revealed. “The Captive Slave” was one of his favorites and one with which he most identified as he felt too that he was a soul stuck inside his body. He empathized with the captive slave that wanted to be released from the marble case that housed him....

The sculpture is considered to be unfinished. But then, aren’t we all? Michelangelo knew he was a Soul encased. A Soul inside a Box. It’s easy for me to lose perspective and sight of this principle.

This "Soul Box" comes to mind when, out amongst the busy and ever milling public in Paris I find myself once again and occasionally squeezing my eyes shut for an instant trying to maintain perspective on the depth--or shall I say extent--of human interaction going on around me. I suppose there isn’t always a lot of “depth” going on, but certainly a lot of extent. It’s hard not to become calloused to it. It takes effort. People are infinitely more that what we see of them. I see the cover, a case, but the housed and intangible entity inside is what is most beautiful and relevant.

I think this has been the most challenging part for me, living in a true “city” (besides the inordinate amount of NOISE). And Paris is a city of cities to be sure....She boasts of--for whatever duration of time, each and every one--circa 5,000,000 persons, Soul Boxes in a moment.

I’m not used to that, so I still feel like a little girl sometimes, staring around me wide-eyed at all there is to see and the juxtaposition of just about everything around me. It’s fascinating, but exhausting too. Yet another juxtaposition to be noted. But however far my mind may wander exploring the "nouveauté" around me, I come back to Michelangelo. There's something to that slave wanting ever since his Renaissance origin to come out of that marble, to which we can all perhaps relate. And I don't ever want to lose sight of the priority that the intangible has over what is seen in the arena of humanity. For we are not but the sum of our corporeal makeup. We are so much more.

It’s beautiful, powerful, oppressive and invigorating all at once. Depending on what mood I’m in I guess....

Holland

In December, before my trek home to Oregon for weddings and holidays my friend Kellie came to visit me in Paris for an all too short weekend from Amsterdam, where she’s working/living as a nanny.

Last weekend, it was my turn to repay her the visit. :)

On Friday afternoon I hopped on a train again and bypassed Belgium to arrive at Amsterdam Centraal Station...

...to then get on another train to Hilversum, Holland, the lovely suburb where Kellie abides and looks after 2 little Dutch boys of 8 and 4 years old. Her host family was incredibly welcoming and warm, and very kind to let me crash the futon in Kellie’s adorable loft of a bedroom for the weekend.

Friday evening we had the privilege of dining with the boys’ parents and passed the evening comparing notes on Dutch, American and French cultures. It was fascinating and Kellie’s African soup was wonderful to boot!

The next morning we braved the cold but clear weather and headed to Amsterdam itself to do all sorts of tourist things. First we navigated a couple of downtown markets, purchasing bread and cheese to supplement leftover soup:





And admired the canals and bicycles, both of which quintessentially Dutch:




And then ate Dutch Apple Pie at Cafe Winkel, which is supposed to be the best in Amsterdam. It was packed, but the taste certainly delivered. We ate it standing and scrunched up in the corner against other customer’s coats and scarves. And, true to Traci form I was not successful in avoiding dropping a few ungraceful morsels on the floor of the establishment....so me, unfortunately. :(


Next, as I was very anxious to do so, we visited the long-awaited Van Gogh Museum--which lived up to every expectation and was absolutely wonderful, and perfectly informative.

We headed home fairly early that evening as Kellie in particular was FREEZING and we dined...

...and retired early to get up and repeat our regime the next day. :) This time we decided to hit up the museum first, taking the route through the Bloommarkt and Dam Square to see the city centre properly and then finally the Rijksmuseum--

--wherein is on display many Northern Renaissance paintings and other Dutch treasures. I do love museums.... *nerdy sigh*

After immersing ourselves in the rather moralistically didactic Dutch Renaissance (yet another nerdy *snicker*) I had an intense thirst that could only be sated by a quality brew and we ended up spending a few hours over a couple of drinks at a lovely pub that a apparently many ex-pats of Holland tend to frequent. The libation and conversation was not to be surpassed. I love you, Kellie Marie Jones. :)

On the way back, we admired the city at night, the lights reflecting off the watery canals:

We had every intention of watching a French film that evening, one that we vowed in Paris that we’d watch together, but we were both tired girls and fell asleep pretty much at the beginning of it! Desolée, Améle Poulain!

The next morning, as the boys did not have school, we all went for a bicycle tour of the neighborhood. I loved it, but unfortunately Mr. 4 years old was not as keen on it and we turned around. We’d planned on finding a windmill, but it will have to wait for next time! That afternoon I left Kellie in Hilversum, after a little bit of unplanned sale shopping and headed back to Paris. Funny how just 4 hours later I was back in my bedroom in France, two completely different worlds--even so geographically close. It was a wonderful weekend and wonderful company.

Hopefully Kellie will soon be coming back to Paris to visit again...je l’attend avec impatience.... :)