Reach Out and Grab

I have seen the Mona Lisa and, just downstairs from her, visited the Venus de Milo, two extraordinary women attracting millions of people every year to their home in the Louvre. It is challenging to get near enough, or stay long enough, to know either of them well, but the community of people they bring together inspires me on its own. In that respect, I am a globalist. I enjoy being surrounded—truly surrounded—by people from around the world, all of us single-minded regarding one thing, in this case, art. Something we can agree is beautiful, even if we do not understand it. Something that brings us together.

A slogan on the side of a Seine river tour boat captured the sentiment for me perfectly: “Travel is the ethic of caring for the world.” I recall this feeling visiting the shrines of the Holy Land in Israel two years ago only months before war broke out. Bus loads of people—bus after bus load—queuing to visit ancient churches and temples and historical landmarks. We stood in line with Ethiopians, Europeans of every sort, other Africans, Asians, Australians—the lot. We smiled and chatted as best we could, filled with the same sense of anticipation, like children on a field trip. War, when it happens, is a hard rain on such a parade.

Any dissension is. When I think of the pleasant half hour we spent snaking through the line into Notre Dame with a young family from Barcelona, I am ashamed of the blistering discord in our country, and sad about it anywhere.

I propose this: Go somewhere. Encounter other people. Think of it as rubbing ointment over the skin rash that afflicts us right now. Work down to what lies underneath, the protein, and muscle that allow us to remain upright. Get in line to experience something beautiful. Window-shop. Go inside. Go next door.

Nine million people will walk past the Mona Lisa this year, pausing to capture the moment on their mobile devices. As many as seven million will gather around the Venus de Milo. You do not have to be one of them to be strengthened by those numbers. They confirm that there is ample connective tissue to keep us from falling apart. Just reach out and grab hold.

The French President, Emmanuel Macron, announced at the beginning of the year that the Mona Lisa would be getting its own room, downstairs at the Louvre, perhaps by 2031. It will come with a new entrance to the museum, with a separate entrance fee for people coming to see the famous painting. The goal is to relieve the long lines and crush of the crowds viewing the artwork, which, by now, undermine the purpose of having a museum, directors say.

Yes, perhaps. But Macron spoke rightly during the announcement. He said, he was “humbled” to stand in front of the masterpiece. I felt the same, being there when I was in the thick of the crowds. Ethics, including the ethic of caring for the world, boil off impurities leaving humility behind in the pot, which is a soothing balm for applying all over.

I was sorry to have to leave France and its one thousand years of history. We had to get home to the dog and spring clean-up and did not want to miss the daffodils. But I think we will seek-out local museums this summer and join a nature outing or two, to connect with others, to reach out and grab hold.

Published in the Monadnock Ledger-Transcript