The Gates of Bliss

I've been wanting to create a new post for a while now, but I was in a dilemma: do I just post to post, or do I wait to see what I might have to say. I waited, and waited, and, well, I have a glimmer of what I'd like to say. I will just follow that spark and see where it goes. The Gates, a very eccentric art creation by Christo and Jeanne-Claude in Central Park, has been in my sight now for 16 days. At first, I found it completely out of place--imagine orange girders 16 feet tall with an orange curtain hanging 7 feet down so you may pass beneath them. I hate orange and I love nature. So at first for me, his art display was not to be memorable,just tolerated. I did enjoy watching all the people coming to see it. Every morning I went down my stoop, and I saw the Gates flowing in the wind--sometimes against a backdrop of skeletal grey trees, and sometimes against the white of newly fallen snow.

And you guessed it, I have come to terms with The Gates. I have been in limbo myself for the past 9 weeks--waiting to see my doctor, hoping he will find me cancer free, hoping nothing nasty is growing inside of me since the chemo. ended, questioning every little twinge I have, and watching my hair come back in platnum or white or grey or whatever color this fuzz may be. It has not been a good time for me. I don't know why. At least I am out of that hell called chemotherapy and I should be grateful, actually, I should be enjoying sheer bliss. But that isn't it--it's the uncertainty, the waiting, the not knowing, and the inaction. It is one thing to fight and it is another thing to wait not knowing if this wait will extend into a restful place or if it is only a slight pause between rounds. The doctor canceling my appointment three times didn't help. So I worked my job, worked my volunteer duties, and tried not to think too much.

But those orange waving panels called to me. And so, I finally went for a walk amongst the waving Gates art display--and I found myself grinning, yes, grinning. How absurd that I was grinning from ear to ear for no reason, and to top it off, I actually felt bouyant. Lots of people were out walking, as they have been every day, from all over the world. They were grinning too, absurdly, and we found ourselves saying hello, and laughing, and just grinning at each other like imbiciles, or maybe this is what it means to be happy for no reason other than you feel like it. And I have continued to revisit The Gates. Sometimes when I go, the snowfall is new and clings to the trees as the gentleness of the orange strokes the air soundlessly. Other times the sun dances across the fabric and captures bits of purple, yellow, blues, and even teal, and in a blink, dissolve back into the not so offensive saffron. The Gates have a gentling effect on my mood, and their opennings seem to encourage all who pass below the saffron-fabric panels to greet the passage with an open sense of happiness. Weird, cause I don't like metal, I don't like plastic fabric, and I sure don't like orange. But I love The Gates and am grateful they came here to this park outside my doorstep. I have found a surprising connection to this art at a time where it was difficult for me to allow myself to feel at all, and I guess I can call what The Gates have given me is a sense of bliss.

And now they are taking it down to recycle it forever more. Funny that I don't feel sad. I do feel a little regret that it will not greet me when I step outside anymore, but then, I do have this wonderful feeling still that I can only liken to when the shadows of the clouds pass above the White Mountains sometimes, leaving streaks of purples, greys, blues, and at dawn, oranges almost like saffron, for a moment in time, and when you blink, they are gone. Kind of a coincidence that today, the second day of the workers taking down more of the 7500 gates, my doctor deigned to meet with me. Looks good so far. Breathe........