Tag: tea

starling murmuration

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These words have been fully formed since October, but I felt they needed a little extra time to incubate. As I walked the streets of Edinburgh a few days ago, I spotted starlings coalescing over rooftops, swirling in shapes and mystery—there for a moment and then gone. Quietly, strangely, I knew it was time.

“To love God through and across the destruction of Troy and of Carthage—and with no consolation. Love is not consolation, it is light.” -Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

***

The two small children, boy and girl, screech in glee as they race each other across the grass. Their mother follows behind as they raucously, inevitably, stray too far. They are babbling cheerily and pointing at the towering buildings as bees rustle in the flowers. The mother takes their hands, leading them away from my perch on the stone steps and the book I’ve glanced up from in enchanted interest. She smiles apologetically, “I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t come here for peace.” I smile and try to reassure her that all is well. I want to say: No, I did not come here for peace at all. I’ve seen enough of that.

***

Second rain. Is there a word for the drops that fall from trees, belated and too soon? When the clouds have parted and drifting passerby are caught unawares. I cannot help but flinch as a cold droplet falls upon my head, betrayed even as the sun peeks through truant autumn leaves—these boughs, a vessel of shelter then exposure. I think of how God must feel all of our suffering first—how He has and did—ages before it reaches us and again when we meet.

***

It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun. It’s green. It’s still green. -Richard Siken, “Meanwhile”

***

Illness. Ache in the chest. Do not bend, do not speak.

Listless, in bed, a return to Plath’s “Fever 103°:”

“Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora’s scarves…

Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on…

I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern——

Does not my heat astound you! And my light!
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.”

***

Solace:

If I am sad, I can walk in any direction and find a bookshop, a church, a sculpture, a garden.

***

Praise God for bookshops with interminable hallways, slanted stacks, and mysterious basement catacombs. Praise God for conversations on Woolf and contemporary poetry. Praise God for all of the friends I haven’t met yet, for a family that can be hinted even in a day. Praise God for the grace in offering a teapot, a cup, the everyday mercy of honey dissolving in tea. Praise God for and through the hardest no. “It’s a shame as I’m sure you would have been a great success.”

***

“How privileged you are, to be passionately / clinging to what you love; / the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. / Maestoso, doloroso: / This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. / Surely it is a privilege to approach the end / still believing in something.” -Louise Glück, “October”

***

to desire / to turn

“Instead of ‘desire,’ [Katherine Bushnell] preferred to translate the word in Genesis 3:16 as ‘turning.'” –The Making of Biblical Womanhood, Beth Allison Barr

[Middle English desiren, from Old French desirer, from Latin dēsīderāre, to observe or feel the absence of, miss, desire : dē-, de- + sīderāre (as in cōnsīderāre, to observe attentively, contemplate)]

The original sense perhaps being “await what the stars will bring,” from the phrase de sidere “from the stars,” from sidus (genitive sideris) “heavenly body, star, constellation.”

***

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things. -T.S. Eliot, “Ash Wednesday”

***

In the dream, I am a filmstar and the scene begins and I don’t know any of my lines, never knew them to begin with. In the dream, there is a murder to solve and a house of many corridors and something lurking in the shadows. In the dream, we are slow dancing in an empty room and tears begin to fall silently, abstract on your shoulder.

***

“The train to Aberdeen is delayed. This is due to… a person being hit by a train.” The automated voice ricochets, repeating its dirge over and over at intervals, bluntly, blindly. “They really don’t need to say that every time, do they?” the older woman next to me murmurs on the platform. As strangers, we exist in the shadow of grief, a forlorn obituary for the unknown traveller.

***

Siken’s “Scheherazade” plays often in the background of my mind, pure autumn notes:

“Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
and dress them in warm clothes again.
How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”

attention, art, & love: quarantine thoughts

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“The mystics say you are as close as my own breath.
Why do I flee from you?

My days and nights pour through me like complaints
and become a story I forgot to tell.

Help me. Even as I write these words I am planning
to rise from the chair as soon as I finish this sentence.” —Marie Howe

***

“Daddy, she looks like a good person. Doesn’t she look like a good person?” The little boy chattering in the Target shopping cart, gripping a toy shaped like a beige egg, suddenly turns his clairvoyant eyes towards me. A good person. I smile broadly behind the gray confines of my mask and hope that a timid wave and a softening in my eyes can somehow be enough to convey a burst of joy. Soon, their cart rolls out of view, and I realize with a start that I will never know what was trapped within that egg, aching to emerge.

***

“Art. Love. What’s the difference, really?” My friend says with a shrug, and when he smiles his eyes crumple into celebratory lines, like confetti mid-descent.

***

A few nights back, I had a dream that I was running, breathless, from something or someone. The only shelter was the church ahead, but I was barefoot; I couldn’t enter without shoes. My friend appeared in an adjacent doorway and kindly gave me his sneakers without a second thought. I rushed inside, only to see a face turn away in hurt.

***

December 9th, 2019:

“I bumped into a friend today, dressed brightly and carrying an umbrella. I rushed over to huddle under too, and we laughed when it bopped my head. We spoke of those graduating in December and exchanged a mutual frazzled look. We both expressed how charmed we are to be waiting ’till May, delaying the inevitable, taking our time with growing old. We parted ways. The rain fell.

Now I am sitting at Blackberry Market, and, though it is echoey and empty and strange, it is altogether like a second home. I think the baristas know me (embarrassing or flattering?) and my signature mug by now. I’ve settled in, to this seat, yes, but also here at large. It is making sense to me now. I drove friends to the store yesterday and knew the twists and turns and street names—no GPS needed. More friends stayed in my apartment until 2:00 am because they couldn’t bear to leave; they told me it felt like home, and I could see in their eyes that they were hungry for belonging. We listened to my Frank Sinatra Christmas vinyl and jazz and then fell into comfortable, companionable silence. I went off to bed, and a few still lingered there. As I drifted off to sleep, I bemusedly thought about this feeling—like that of a parent with children sleeping over. I fell asleep to the lullaby of whispered conversation and spurts of contained laughter. Tenderness.”

***

Lady Bird: “Well, I was just describing it.”

Sister Sarah Joan: “Well, it comes across as love.”

Lady Bird: “Sure, I guess I pay attention.”

Sister Sarah Joan: “Don’t you think they’re the same thing? Love and attention?”

***

January 13th, 2020, four months ago, first day of final semester:

“I make small talk with the girl beside me at the CPO window. We shared a ride together once from Midway; her friend drove us and insisted on me not paying. I smile and turn to leave, and she shouts after me: ‘Take care!’ I didn’t expect it, but it rings in my ears as I step out into the grey afternoon.

I drive to Twice as Nice and find that the dress I’ve been pining over for weeks is gone. I buy a cozy grey sweater instead and pay in all quarters. The woman at the register excitedly exclaims that they are just what she needs. She is almost out of quarters, she says. And pennies.

We are always filling in the gaps, whether we know it or not. I am amazed today by how we are able to be so many things to so many people, shifting and morphing in and out—how God stitches us into the complexity of His story. We may never know when our presence, our words, or our actions turn out to be exactly what someone else needs.

Earlier, in chapel, Dr. Ryken said, ‘It is when we reach the end of our own limited resources that God is able to do all that He can do.'”

***

“We have so little of each other, now… Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy? These fleeting temples we make together when we say, ‘Here, have my seat,’ ‘Go ahead—you first,’ ‘I like your hat.'”—Danusha Lameris

***

Another dream: On a road trip, I suddenly realized my luggage had mysteriously vanished from the car. Then, I could see it, there, waiting for me along the sidewalk. We were in bumper-to-bumper traffic, so I jumped out of the vehicle and barreled after it. The black form kept getting further and further away, and I turned to see the car had left me behind.

***

JO: “Perhaps… perhaps I was too quick in turning him down.”

MARMEE: “Do you love him?”

JO: “If he asked me again, I think I would say yes… Do you think he’ll ask me again?”

MARMEE: “But do you love him?”

JO (tearing up): “I care more to be loved. I want to be loved.”

MARMEE: “That is not the same as loving.”

JO (crying, trying to explain herself to herself): “You know, I just feel like women… they have minds and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. And I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for. I’m so sick of it, but… I am so lonely.”

***

“I know you are reading this poem / as the underground train loses momentum and before running / up the stairs / toward a new kind of love. / I know you are reading this poem listening for something torn / between bitterness and hope / turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse. / I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else / left to read.” —Adrienne Rich

Chatsworth House: A Rendezvous with Mr. Darcy

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For those of you who know me well, you know that one of my absolute favorite films is the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice, starring Keira Knightley. Now, before anyone starts an uproar, I also enjoy the 1995 BBC mini-series. However, considering its total length of nearly 6 hours, I often find myself gravitating to the newer rendition instead with its dazzling cinematography and enchanting score (which I often listen to whilst studying). For those unawares, Chatsworth House was used for filming the scenes at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’s estate, in the 2005 film.

Everything about the estate is extravagant, even from the start. Lush. Decadent. Gilded. Its simultaneous magnitude and emphasis on minute intricate detail is altogether breathtaking. Chatsworth belongs to the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire and has been passed down through 16 generations of the Cavendish family. The history of Chatsworth began with Elizabeth Talbot, known as the Countess of Shrewsbury or Bess of Hardwick. A native of Derbyshire, she married four times and became the second most powerful woman in Elizabethan England (after the Queen, of course). It was in partnership with her second husband, Sir William Cavendish, that she bought Chatsworth in 1549.

Visitors at Chatsworth today can view magnificent works of art that span 4,000 years — ancient Roman and Egyptian sculptures, masterpieces by Rembrandt, and work by modern artists, including Lucian Freud, Edmund de Waal, and David Nash. The statue seen above (which you may remember from the 2005 film) is “A Veiled Vestal Virgin” by Raffaelle Monti — ordered by the sixth Duke of Devonshire after a visit to the artist’s studio in Milan, Italy. Other treasures include an extensive geological collection and the library’s early copy of Audubon’s The Birds of America and a prayer book that once belonged to Henry VII and then Margaret Tudor. (The library also possesses many volumes of poetry, perhaps partially due to the influence of Georgiana, the fifth Duchess of Devonshire, who dabbled as a poet herself. She is portrayed by Keira Knightley in the 2008 film The Duchess, which was also filmed at Chatsworth.)

The gardens and grounds of Chatsworth are no less exceptional than the interior of the manor, featuring a Victorian rock garden, a labyrinthine yew maze (which I proudly navigated in record time), a waterfall, and acres of other wonders. There are over five miles of walking trails and impressive gravity-fed waterworks abound, such as the 300-year-old Cascade seen above on the left. There is a prominent focus on sustainability that can be especially seen in features such as the Kitchen Garden, which supplies fruit, vegetables, and herbs for the manor house and has done so for years. 20 gardeners total are necessary to keep the estate pristine.

The greenhouses at Chatsworth are acclaimed throughout Britain. However, some grander elements have been lost. During and after the World War I (1914-18), there was not enough coal to heat the conservatories and, therefore, many plants, especially of tropical varieties, died. Because of the expense of restoring, maintaining, and heating, the property’s renowned Great Conservatory built by Joseph Paxton, the largest glass building in England of its time, was demolished in 1920. Still, horticulture is very much alive at Chatsworth. When we visited, the RHS Chatsworth Flower Show was in full swing, which is quite the affair. We declined visiting its separate encampment of vast white tents (think The Great British Baking Show multiplied by five), begonias, and ferns as admission is separate and ranges upwards of £34.00 per person. Tickets are now on sale for the next flower show, June 5-9, 2019, if you’re interested.

Visiting Chatsworth House was one of my favorite memories from my trip to the UK! As I strolled around the gardens and it began to softly rain, I couldn’t help but think about the appeal of moving to some little cottage in Bakewell and being able to pop over to Chatsworth for picnics in the summer or their cozy Christmas market in the winter. As you exit the manor through the gift shop (oh, how clever), you come face-to-face with a bust of Matthew Macfayden (the anointed Mr. Darcy of 2005) — a lingering prop from the film. A cheeky sign underneath reads, “Please do not kiss.” Or perhaps it isn’t so cheeky; maybe, in the past, this has been a real issue. Of that I cannot be sure, dear readers. Regardless, when I saw the likeness, I could not help but recall the iconic scene shot in Chatsworth’s sculpture gallery:

“Do you not think him a handsome man, miss?” “Yes. Yes, I dare say he is.”

Unexpected London Gems

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Cream Tea (ft. The Delaunay & The Wallace Collection)

You may have heard ravings about the British phenomenon of afternoon tea. Well, allow me to set the record straight: cream tea includes scones, clotted cream, jam, and practically bottomless tea of your choice… and it’s way cheaper. Fellow penniless college students, lend me your ears. Afternoon tea at a trendy (and admittedly swoonworthy) place like sketch can be upwards of £59 per person while cream tea at The Delaunay (an elegant café in the theater district) was only £9.50 and still allowed my friends and I to feel like pampered, sophisticated Brits. (There was a gluten-free option available for the pastries as well, at no extra charge!) Cream tea is also offered at The Wallace Collection, in their stunning pink courtyard, for an even cheaper rate: £6.50 per person! Sip wisely and affordably, my friends.

 

Hidden Art Gallery in Harrods

I was, personally, extraordinarily reluctant to go to Harrods — the famous British luxury shopping emporium, boasting more than a 1.1 million square feet of space, 7 floors, and 330 different departments. To give you even more perspective, it houses 23 different restaurants and a massive gift shop… for the store itself. To some, this may sound like a dream come true; as for myself, a gal who doesn’t even enjoy venturing into an average-sized mall, it was a bit of a stimulus-overload plush nightmare. I ended up wandering away from my group into the book department, then a giant room full of expensive pens in display cases, and then, finally, I stumbled upon it: an art gallery. I stepped close to the bedecked marble walls, squinting in disbelief at the works on display. Some were, as expected, pieces for sale by contemporary artists… others were priceless artworks by Picasso and Chagall. Only in Harrods.

 

Ladurée at Covent Garden

The evening was growing late; my friends and I had just exited a West End show. Someone broached the topic of dessert, which was well-received by all. We were far too energized and full of life to return back to our rooms in the quiet borough of Highbury & Islington. Ice cream? Meh. Noncommittal muttering ensued as we began to wander the darkened avenues. “I know a place.” I volunteered with a smile, leading our small posse to Ladurée, just before it was about to close. I swear, macarons have never tasted better than they did that night — though I firmly believe that Ladurée macarons always taste like clouds and everything lovely in the world. I fell in love with Ladurée in Paris, and their London macarons did not disappoint; I probably went there 3x total during my month in London. Note: My only piece of cautionary advice is to avoid the nearby Covent Garden Tube stop if possible. It’s always incredibly packed and is essentially a claustrophobic person’s *cough* me *cough* worst fear. Crowds are funneled into two lifts to access the trains below, or, you can take dizzying flights of stairs down (or, far worse, up) that are there in case of an emergency. Basically, it’s the last place you would want to be in the event of a catastrophe… and it’s not even pleasant in the absence of one. Still, if you find yourself there in the Covent Garden Tube station rush, feeling hopeless, think of the Ladurée macarons nearby; that will give you the strength you need.

 

The West End: Stage Door & Day Tickets

Since I was enrolled in Musical Theater Survey whilst in London, I had the privilege of being fully immersed in the London arts scene, seeing a total of 10 remarkable performances, including The Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, The Lion King, Wicked, Matilda, Translations, Swan Lake, and As You Like It. However, you don’t have to be a member of an arts-oriented study abroad program to afford tickets to these shows! The arts are far more accessible in the UK than in the US! TKTS in Leicester Square became our best friend, offering inexpensive day-of tickets for the hottest shows. We were able to get decent seats at Wicked and The Phantom of the Opera — my two favorite musicals — for around £20 per show! Popular West End productions also offer “day tickets” (though only for matinee performances), which require some dedicated queuing at the respective show’s box office to obtain. Some lotteries are available for shows such as Hamilton. There is one theatrical experience that is absolutely free but has the potential to produce some priceless memories: stage door. After any show, you can quietly queue at that theatre’s stage door, where many cast members will exit. If they are willing, the actors or actresses may take photos with you or autograph your program! If they are (understandably) exhausted from their recent three hour stint on stage, they may pass you by. The key to proper stage door etiquette is respecting this decision: these are human beings leaving work and they deserve their space. Sometimes, inevitably, you will wait without reward, but, other times, if you’re lucky, Christine Daaé (Kelly Mathieson) will take a selfie with you and your hyperventilating friends and Raoul (Jeremy Taylor) will smile at you and say, “Cheers!”

 

£5 Yard Tickets at The Globe Theatre

Remember how I said the arts are far more accessible in the UK than the US? Well, imagine watching a production of one of the Bard’s renowned plays in the actual Globe Theatre for only £5. Yes, it’s possible. You can enjoy excellent productions put on by the Royal Shakespeare Company just as the groundlings once did in Elizabethan times —  standing. You will not have a seat to call your own, nor will you be sheltered from the elements, but you will be far closer to the stage and the actors are guaranteed to cheekily interact with you throughout the show. Plan ahead, pick an (albeit rare) sunny day, and, with a £5 note in hand, advance “once more unto the breach, dear friends.” (Henry V, anyone?)

 

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Platform 9 ¾

So, admittedly, this stop in particular was not unexpected; I had actually been anticipating it for years, ever since reading J.K. Rowling’s beloved Harry Potter series. Located inside King’s Cross Station (across the street from the King’s Cross Tube station), this delightful photo opportunity is free and definitely worth the inevitable wait in a queue! Kind attendants in Hogwarts garb supply a wand and a scarf for the house of your choice (er, I mean, the Sorting Hat’s choice).

 

Twinings Tea Museum

I feel as if I am about to utter tea heresy, but I did not fall in love with Twinings during my stint abroad. It seemed to me rather mediocre at best. Still, that did not prevent me from enjoying their tea shop/museum hybrid location at 216 Strand — the oldest tea shop in London. They offer free tea-tasting of select flavors in the back and even have a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria on display, celebrating Twinings as the personal supplier of tea for her distinguished household (and every British monarch since).

 

LSO Rehearsals in The Barbican Centre

These “LSO Create” open rehearsals take place on weekdays from 10:00 am-1:00 pm and are absolutely free, though you must reserve a spot in advance. It is truly an incredible way to experience the breathtaking caliber of a London Symphony Orchestra performance, and be able to come and go at your leisure, without paying a large sum. If you’re up for an adventure, there are interesting hidden courtyards in the upper levels of The Barbican Centre to explore!

 

Borough Market

Borough Market is a delightful hodgepodge of culinary sights and smells. Vendors sell truffles, fresh meats, produce, cheeses, wines — everything under the sun. My personal favorite stall is a small, cheery place called From Field and Flower. They sell various types of delectable honey from all over Europe and allow visitors to sample their wares, ranging from mild and sweet to pungent, strong honey. I purchased their lavender honey and have cherished every last drop; it’s the best honey I’ve ever had! If you visit Borough Market, make sure you visit the airy, minimalistic Monmouth Coffee across the way as well!

 

Sherlock “The Reichenbach Fall” Building

You may recognize the building on the right from Season 2, Episode 3 of BBC’s Sherlock. No spoilers here, but, if you’ve seen the show, you definitely know what gut-wrenching scene this rather indiscriminate building is featured in. I am forever thankful that my sharp-eyed friend pointed it out to me as we walked by, departing from an Art Survey class at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The game is afoot!

 

The Great Gatsby at Gatsby’s Drugstore

This was one of the best theatrical experiences I have ever been a part of and certainly ranks among the best nights of my life! If you will be in London between now and September 30th, you must go to this show! It is so professionally done, upbeat and tragic in turns, and just a dose of genuinely riotous fun. For those of you who know me well, you know that The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite novels. That was certainly a contributing factor to my thorough enjoyment of the evening, but you really don’t need to be a Fitzgerald fan to immerse yourself in some 1920s thematic mayhem. The story came alive in ways I never dreamed possible: secret rooms, Prohibition booze, a group lesson on how to dance the Charleston, a rousing piano solo. The actors were astonishing, thoughtfully portraying the characters as winsome and yet so broken. The entire warehouse-like building is customized precisely for this show, and the production is truly a refined masterpiece — as Gatsby would have enjoyed, a leap into the past.