Rest Sweet Parade and A Reason for Skin

White snow to ice followed by a slow melt. Water appears in the fountain and a few early brown birds return to drink. Mud and sparse grass yield to booted feet on their way to collect windswept empty plastic bins. It was time to put them to sleep for another year.

Sit first and conduct an unemotional scan around the contenders. Adopt the discipline and do not look into the eyes of the broken figures who would not be making it. Concentrate on what you like regardless of how they found their way into the Holiday parade.

Now begin ...

Five tubs, three tree bundles, and two trash bags later the job was done. The glitz was gone, and the rooms gave off a tired air. Dust abounded. The spaces between and behind the twinkles were now exposed. And then exhaustion set in. It was too much to fix in one day. Energy and creativity were drained.

Tea and a quiet hour before I readied for the next adventure.

It had been a few days before when I had been surprised by an invitation from a lovely friend of mine. A visit to the Franklin Institute to see "Body Works". I did not have the slightest idea what this was and imagined soft sculptures drifting effortlessly from pose to pose. And then thinking a little more I began to recall an earlier discussion from a few weeks back.

Snippets of the conversation came forward. Words like medical study, muscles, and brain tissue. Cloudy sentences like, "It's about how the body works." Tendons. Blood vessels. Oh, oh, oh. Let me just check we are not talking about the same thing. Because I do remember quietly pulling back from this chat having said discreetly - "Not really my thing". Actually, I think I said it more forcefully than that. I probably said something more like - "Sounds really interesting, but you know me. I'm more of a creative "I like enchanted nature and dream-like visions of how humans can be" sort of person." I believe in folding gentle wings around the harsh reality of the life we live in. I don't do horror films, because there's just so much around in real life. I shy away from the overt relative to the human body, preferring to ponder what might be under the kilt or below the waste of a man, rather than the blatant display of what is. Maybe my response was more in the latter. However, now in the present, I began to wonder how I had perhaps not been so "overt" in my own response.

Of course, going into the City is always an enticement and the complement of the invitation vastly outweighed my particular views on the subject matter. Given this, I began to work on putting myself in the right frame of mind. However, researching the exhibition online only heightened my reservations and I was left with no option but to seek additional support.

And then it came to me - there had been another friend present during the early conversations on the topic. Someone who, unlike me, was salivating with interest over the very prospect of being able to see such a thing. And so, not one, but two moral supporters later - I had enhanced my ability to withstand the visuals.

The Saturday night visitation line was absolutely endless. Included in this collection of humans (waiting to examine the flesh and bone behind the skin) were the inevitable first-date couples, wads of intellects, and pockets of friends young and old. I just couldn't quite get over the fact that this viewing appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, quite the norm. And in we went.

Whether self-created or not, I felt the harsh pressure of the atmosphere. Was it dead? No, this could not be because I understood that the bodies displayed had "belonged to people who declared during their lifetime that their bodies should be made available after they die for the qualification of physicians and the instruction of laypersons." OK, so there were no disconcerted spirits here because they had wanted this. So continue on I did.

(Read first Merliz and seek to understand the creator.)

And I did and I was acutely interested in the life story of Mr. Gunther von Hagens. Brilliant was he. "...distinguished by early precocity, scholarship, discovery, experimentation, and invention. ... a man shaped by extraordinary events, and marked by defiance and daring." Yes, yes, and yes.

And then I was face to face with the first of many. And all I could do was pull my eyes down over and through the body that was displayed. I tried forcing my mind to embrace the concept. I tried. But you see.

.. the red muscles stretching taught into blatant bone shards and sinews
.. the marbled, lidded eyes, staring proudly out from a skinless face
.. the inner organs exposed by the careful manipulation of surrounding tissues
.. the skull sliced intentionally to reveal the marvelous "plasticized" brain
.. the fetus-bearing woman who had smoked
.. the angel with muscled wings
.. the poses
.. the dead

may have fascinated all in attendance apart from me, but I was beyond sad.

I was disappointed in myself for not being able to appreciate this spectacular exposition of what lies beneath the skin. But what I had said a few weeks back had inevitably come to fruition. I shy away from the overt. And it must be said that never before had I seen such things. Never again did I want to. The lesson in my search to be ultimately tolerant of others .. to agree to disagree .. was being tested.

And we left the City and convened at a local restaurant for dinner. And "they" chatted about just how fascinating it was and then onto football playoff conversations. And then home. And then into my sanctum. And then nothing. And then I realized that, indeed, I was still in shock. Let it go, said the voice of wisdom. It will take time, said the voice of knowledge. There is a reason for skin, said the voice of peace.

Until the next time, I remain wandering! Merliz