Friday, June 27, 2014

Thursday June 19....finding grace in Liverpool

If there was one stop on my British journey that if dropped would not have caused me pain, it was the Beatles Museum in Liverpool. I loved their music in the 60s and found great joy in singing along with those British lads.But, a museum?

I seemed to recall Liverpool as a drab place from the Beatles time but it wasn't.Maybe the museum would be O.K.As I drifted around inside, I was shocked to see how young the Fab Four were or have my eyes aged so.What bright faces ! As I read their stories, I hadn't known that they had tumultuous childhoods: dying young moms and disappearing fathers. That the genius behind the group, Brian Epstein, had died at 32.I had forgotten that they broke up after only eight years and went on to other things.

Their music filled the place and I was 20 again and young.There was Eleanor Rigby's grave."Ah, look at all the lonely people".And a sign for "Strawberry Fields, Forever",which strangely touched me. But something awaited and I moved on.

Each Beatle has their own alcove with photos, music and memorabilia.The last was George Harrison's and as I entered, his music filled the small space.There was a narrow bench with white pillows that invited one to sit and gladly I did.As I looked around, enjoying rare solitude, I saw what was on the floor.A beautiful green marble space with a pink lotus. I have written before how that stunning, mystical flower speaks to me.Of overcoming and blossoming despite the grimy mud that tries to suck you down.When you achieve something, the mud will say: "Don't get a big head, now."Or ,"That's great, but you forgot to bring in the garbage pail; so lazy."Here, in Liverpool, I was reminded of the beauty in that flower and my soul, and your soul, in all it's potential.

Under the lotus is this quote from George: "I am a gardener,basically".In its humilty,it reminded me of Frost: "One could do worse than be a swinger of birches."
One could do worse than enter a small quiet alcove, sit on a soft pillow and listen to the voice of the shyest Beatle, long gone, sing , "My Sweet Lord."

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