Personal archetypes and lesser monuments
Tuesday, October 28th, 2008Like most people, I think, I have a wealth of personal archetypal stories, which I am reminded of over and over as I move through life. Some of these personal archetypes probably look a lot like the classic Jungian ones (e.g., obsessive love, “love” “betrayed”, love deepened) — there is some common Platonic form behind both, or the Jungian archetype is the form, or something … but my archetypal characters and stories are grounded in my experience — they are deeply personal. Here is one such story, told by my uncle Dave, to me, my father, and perhaps others when I was a boy. I’ll put it in quotes, but in fact, I don’t remember it exactly, and I’m taking artistic liberties — but my Uncle took artistic license too — he has a feel for flair!
“I was driving down Highway 1, way north of San Francisco, and I saw a sign pointing inland, off the highway, and I was intrigued so I took the exit and drove a long ways along the winding road through some thick forest until I reached a parking lot off to the side, an empty parking lot, way out in the middle of nowhere. I got out of my car, an old VW, and walked to a trailhead, at one end, and another sign told me to walk a mile further. I walked, and I came to a gigantic redwood tree, and a sign said that it was the tallest known tree in existence, and I looked up, but couldn’t see the top, then I looked around and there was NO ONE THERE! Here was the tallest living thing in the world that anyone knew of and I was the only one there looking at it! I was AMAZED!”
You may wonder what the big deal is, but you weren’t 8 years old or so, listening to my Uncle Dave. My Dad could spin a good tale too. BTW, you can read about the “tallest” and “most massive” living things at this link, which was the first I got when I did a Google search on “heaviest living thing” (no quotes): .
http://waynesword.palomar.edu/ww0601.htm#tallest.
In any case, this is my archetypal story for encountering the remarkable, alone — it’s my “Jacob’s Ladder” story, I guess (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacobs_Ladder). This is a story I am reminded of when driving out of the tunnel overlooking Pittsburgh for the first time, or the same kind of experience in Edinburgh when you turn a corner and see the Castle, seeing the first marathon runner exit the Olympic tunnel (if you’ve managed to avoid following the idiot news coverage that can spoil that pow experience, witnessing the Grand Slam by the journeyman infielder that no one expected it of, cresting a ridge above the timberline in Kings Canyon and gazing down at Emerald Lake). Granted that different parts of the story may seem important in these different remindings, but they share an encounter with the remarkable, in most cases I think, when I was alone, in body or spirit.
These kinds of encounters happen on a small scale all the time when walking around DC, at the National Galleries, the Zoo, a plethora of small monuments and memorials, and I could go on. This past weekend I went into DC on Sunday, set on seeing the FDR Memorial (http://history1900s.about.com/library/weekly/aa061401a.htm — look at the Rooms 1-4), thinking that this might be the most interesting of the lesser monuments. I took the metro to Smithsonian, a larger than usual crowd I imagine, leftover from the Marine Corp Marathon, which is big here, was milling around, and I walked towards the Tidal Basin, around which are the famous cherry trees, the Jefferson Memorial, and the FDR Memorial Park (for a map take http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&q=Franklin+D+Roosevelt+Memorial+Park&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&resnum=1&ct=image). I had to pass the Jefferson Memorial (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jefferson_Memorial) to get to FDR Park, and I went back into the former again — my favorite of the four inscriptions is on the Southeast wall:
“I am not an advocate for frequent changes in laws and constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.”
Then on over a little bridge on Ohio Dr SW to FDR Park, and I entered it from the interior trail, not along the Tidal Basin. It’s not a majestic monument — it’s a beautiful one — a rambling red granite (?) wall that feels like the interior of a blown out building, with wonderful fountains and inscriptions all along it. Inscriptions on the Four Freedoms — it’s amazing — I just Goggled the “Four Freedoms”, and sure enough, that’s how they are known, and the “I Hate War” passage. The FDR Memorial deserves more than I want to convey here … I’ll write of it again… so onward.
I walked back along the Tidal Basin, the Jefferson Monument ahead and the FDR Memorial as seen through the trees, fighting for visual attention, then over the small bridge on Ohio Drive SW, then seeing this: http://www.visitingdc.com/memorial/george-mason-memorial-washington-dc.htm. On the Google map above, you’ve got to go through two levels of magnification and recenter the map around the Ohio Dr bridge before you see the George
Mason Memorial. My back had been to it when I passed it the first time, but here was this beautiful little park on my return — an empty park
) I read the sign at teh park entrance then went to take closer look at the statue. Here was a man who shouldered giants like Washington and Jefferson, each of whom said so, acknowledged by the French in their revolt, and he dispised slavery: http://www.visitingdc.com/memorial/who-is-george-mason.htm. I’d always thought that George Mason was perhaps a gentleman farmer and that was about it. I stood in front of his statue for a while, and read the inscriptions. It is not the biggest living thing, for sure, but I was reminded of the story nonetheless, which perhaps added to the splender of it the experience at the monument. So much of the marvel in stuff is from the perception, I think. I had a bit more of it that day — on the way back the the Smithsonian station I decided to cut over (right) a couple blocks before the Mall, and saw the “backside” of the Holocaust Museum, the outside picture shown here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Holocaust_Memorial_Museum — I’d always entered from the other side, which feels ominous and claustrophobic. I didn’t go inside the museum on Sunday, but admired the lovely exterior, taking in inscriptions from Presidents Reagan, Carter, and Eisenhower, while still a general. There were a lot of people there, but it was still remarkable. Motto: always add at least an hour to the time alloted for venture out into DC