The Way It Is

The first time I walked the streets of Paris I was 22 years old. Traveling with my college chorus and singing 15^th century Masses in the great cathedrals. Like Notre Dame. In my free time, browsing in Shakespeare and Co. bookstore. Going to the Louvre, of course. Sitting on a bench in the Tuileries Gardens writing in my journal. Wandering the cobblestone streets enchanted by the red-awning outdoor cafes.

 

Yesterday, my wife and I walked that same territory. 9.4 miles of it, to be exact and 52 years later. There were close to a thousand people waiting in line to enter Notre Dame, but the line was constantly moving, so we got in it and entered the cathedral 15 minutes later. A Mass was in progress, but truth be told, the music we sang over a half-century ago was better. There was another line to enter Shakespeare & Company, some 20 people, but again, didn’t take long to enter that marvelous place. There was a poster for a reading from San Francisco author Rebecca Solnick and the murder mystery series by Cara Black, an SF School alum parent whose child we taught. No surprise that none of my 10 books were there, but I spoke to a clerk about carrying The ABC’s of Education and Jazz, Joy & Justice and she gave me the e-mail of the person to contact. 

 

On we walked along the Seine to the Louvre and decided not to enter, but just walk around the outside of that extraordinarily expansive building. Sat again in the Tuileries and I wrote in my journal. Wandered those cobblestone streets and arrived after 8 hours out in the world to my friends’ Michael and Pam’s apartment. Michael was the co-founder of gamelan Sekar Jaya, a group I once played in and Pam and I took the Orff Level trainings together way back when and stayed in touch all this time. Great food, convivial company and took the 8 Metro line back to the hotel, arrived at midnight. 

 

Some three years before that first trip to Paris, Joni Mitchell released her song The Circle Game and sang exactly what I felt yesterday. The seasons going round and round in the endlessly cycling circle game. Me taking a moment to “look back from where I came” and marveling that I’m still here and can wholly recognize that fellow from oh so long ago. Below is a photo of that 22-year old (fourth singer from the left) and the 74-year old yesterday in the reflection of Shakespeare and Co., the one looking back at the other and both of them connected not just by walking the same streets so many years apart, but by a thread of vision that has never wavered. 

 

And so William Stafford’s marvelous poem comes to mind, speaking a truth I feel down in my bones.

 

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.  
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don't ever let go of the thread. 

And I never have.