(this post was written in New Orleans in January 2019, before covid. For some reason, I never published it)
Del Gue: Jeremiah, maybe you best go down to a town, get outta these mountains.
Jeremiah Johnson: I’ve been to a town Del.
From Jeremiah Johnson
I’ve been in the room of a $300 per night hotel most of the day. It’s been raining all day. Somehow, city rain is different from wild rain. In the mountains, rain is an integrated part of creation, returning water to streams and rivers. It feels right. But in the city, rain means you spend time inside, looking for something to occupy your attention.
I look out the window from the 8th floor and see some interesting architecture; grand hotels, office buildings and the domes of historic churches. The rest of the landscape is roof tops; flat, gray geometric spaces with stairwell huts, rusty air conditioning equipment and puddles. The sounds of traffic, emergency vehicles and the occasional church bell accent the constant low level hum. The backs and sides of many of these buildings were not designed with any intention of anyone seeing them but then this is at least as much of what I can see as the marble and glass front facades and the green patina of the copper church tower. The fog touches the top floors of the tallest buildings reminding me there is a hierarchy to rising above it all based on economics, power and access.
The hotel lobby provides some diversion from the small hotel room, but the the city itself, it is a full assault on the senses. Bright holiday lighting, music playing in the lobby, the smell of coffee from a cafe and everyone taking selfies in front of the tunnel of white lights on the white painted “trees” – these are the stimulants to my senses – artificial, imposing and just loud. The commentator on the TV in the cafe tells me cities like this one are all competing for my dollars. Then he casually tells me about a shooting near a church somewhere downtown. Then I am told as a matter of fact that our country took military action against a threatening foreign general and we must now brace for retaliatory action. I find a little nook with comfy chairs on a mezzanine outside some meeting rooms. No view, no presence but at least a bit of quiet to read a bit.
I am here for a conference – a sharing of ideas between passionate people dedicated to a profession. I am here to eat some really good food, hear some great music and to meet some interesting people. All good things. But I have been anxious all day feeling like, well like I am not supposed to be here. Doing nothing seems to be a waste of money in a nice hotel, but then doing something, anything, requires money. It’s expected but it’s not cheap. And it’s noisy.
I‘ve Been To A Town, and I will visit others. But more and more, my home is in a place where the architecture took millennia and the nighttime light took millions of years to get here from from other stars. The cathedral walls are 400 year old trees and the spires are rocky peaks that decorate to ridge tops. The sounds are here because they are integral to the landscape, not repercussions of technology. And rain is as comfortable as a cool breeze on a warm day.
I‘ve Been To A Town…
wildsabbath.com 