The lost art of life...

Yesterday, I did something I've wanted to do for a long time. I went to the Philadephia Museum of Art and ran up the steps like Rocky all the way to the top. I turned around and put my fist in the air and pumped it up and down like a piston. On my insides, I was screaming out some battle cry. I stood there for a few minutes and just took in the city with all its smog and skyscrapers. It was a moment I will never forget. People were moving past me smirking and thinking to themselves, "Another Rocky wanna be trapped in a puny little frame. What a twirp." I then saw a bunch of people gathered around a newly erected statue of Rocky...I decided to go down and embrace this piece of copper or whatever alloy it was. It was so cool...come to find out, it was just put there in the last several months. I just saw the movie Rocky Balboa last week, so this only added to the pathos of this experience. I loved the last movie, by the by. It was way better than I feared it would be.

After I came down off my "Rocky" Mountain High (long live John Denver), I made my way through the massive pillars just before the entrace to the museum. I paid my dues and just staired at the architecture of this historic building. What a beautiful structure. I climbed a set of stairs to the first floor and spent the first of four hours in a newly added armer and arms section. It had all kinds of old guns and shields and swords from the early 1200's to the 16oo's...unreal. There were armors for horses, medieval spears, and jousting artifacts...I was in heaven. I then made my way to the European art wing...the oldest jewels of that time period...again, stunning and spellbinding. The paintings, the sculptures, the was transcendant. Most of the material was religious in nature...centering around Jesus and the crucifixion. I was blown away with how pervasive that presence of Christ was in this museum. I would guess that 7o% of the art was representative of Christendom. It was a spiritual experience walking through each room and taking in afresh the ripple effect left by the life of Jesus.

I then went downstairs to the ground floor and sliced through the modern art section. It was less gripping for sure, but still pregnant with beauty. I guess I'm a sucker for things that date back to the 14th or 15th centuries and beyond. The newer stuff just hasn't stood the test of's really only just begun to be historic. The American part of the museum was my last stop...this was my second favorite part of my self-given tour. By the time I left, I was drunk on art. That is something I would gladly place myself under the influence of any day of the week. I don't make enough time to inhale beauty in my life. It carries me through colorless and savorless days.

Days like this end too soon. But I guess that's what makes them special.


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