Unanticipated pleasure
Last evening, for three hours, I hovered in the pleasure zone, my brain and body exquisitely in sync. This was delight the likes of which I haven’t felt in six months, or perhaps as long as a year. The kind of pleasure, intense and pervasive, that obliterates worry and fatigue as all the universe seems to buzz and sizzle in the moment, and the moment goes on and on…
This is not the stuff of my everyday life; it is affirming and energizing to relive this extraordinary fullness, the mind-body connection, the airy sense of well-being that results. And as the thrill of the experience began to ease, very late last night, I lay down and slept. Without turbulence, without waking, for nearly six hours. Miraculous.
This morning, I woke still basking in a very particular afterglow following a remarkable night. Care to hear more?
Passion of the mind
An acquaintance came to my home last evening to speak with my son about architecture, about the ways to approach an architectural education, and the architectural profession. He is a photographer, an artist, an architect, a professor of architecture, a researcher, and more. He has designed some stunning structures. What I didn’t know is that he is an inspired teacher.
He asked my son some questions, and they talked. Then he spoke, eloquently, about his own meandering path into architecture: the intersection of philosophy, psychology, fine art, history, engineering, chemistry, mathematics, environmental studies, and more. That is – or can be – the realm of the architect who creates in harmony with his own imagination, with the land, the elements, and of course, the human beings who will live in or interact with the private or public structures he is designing. 
I listened in an adjoining room, as the discussion wandered from Le Corbusier to Frank Gehry to Santiago Calatrava, from theory to pragmatism to bringing an idea to life, and the distinction between “a building” and true architecture.
Transported in time, boosting my brain
I began to take notes. I felt 17 again, exposed to a brilliant mind in a lecture hall, scribbling as quickly as I could to document the possibilities pouring in. I caught a glimpse of my son’s face, open and engaged, and as the discussion progressed I felt the space in my brain reorganizing – its furnishings shifted, adjusted, rearranged; the walls easing outward in order to house broader concepts than I’d entertained just an hour earlier.
The rooms of my own capacity were undergoing renovation; a new structure was forming, even as I was nudged, bombarded, and overwhelmed by words and the visuals they crafted that came in jolts and waves. There is potency in the pairing of certain phenomena, in the tension of opposites and opposition: presence and absence, form and function, process and material, imagination and engineering. And they all combine most effectively when coordinated with mother nature as well as human nature.
This is the heart of architecting: the structure as art, as sculpture, as music, as evolutionary and satisfying space created purposefully. This is the iterative, cumulative and perpetual process of discovery.
At one point, our guest said: “You may have an idea, and conceive it one way. But it’s something else as you’re building it. When you’re in it. Be open to not knowing.”
Renaissance man (and woman)
Last evening, I experienced the full body pleasure of learning. I was quickly aware that the Renaissance man at my kitchen table was no “ordinary” architect. He showed images of various projects and described them. One in particular is a masterpiece of visual poetry.
As the reason for inviting the architect was to talk about various educational routes to the architectural profession, I couldn’t help but think about the benefits of a liberal arts education, its exposure to classics, to the overlap and interaction of many fields of thought and endeavor. It provides a foundation in the tools of learning as much as subject matter.
If the proverbial Renaissance man or woman is one who has knowledge in a wide array of both arts and sciences, then the gentleman in our kitchen epitomizes that particular role. Personally, I would like to do a better job of becoming a Renaissance woman. I was on that path, once, and had to yield to another that was more “pragmatic.” As important as it is to make a living, the desire to pursue language, literature, and art is no less pressing than it was when I was 17. If anything, it is more so, as life at 50 seems so much more precious than it did when I was an adolescent.
Seduction and motivation
I am reminded that my brain can still be seduced by ideas, pleasured by putting pieces of a puzzle together, teased by trailing off into imagery, encouraged by the playfulness of meticulous language and a searching mind. For me, this is life force. This is hopefulness.
I believe my son, in his own way, was deeply affected. He is normally taciturn in the mornings, but on the way to school today we talked.
“See that house?” he said pointing to a large, pseudo-federal structure clearly constructed in recent years. I nodded. “That’s nothing like what he designs. His architecture is awesome. Every element flows together and each has a purpose. And it’s art.”
Stress reducers, memory boosters
I wonder if last evening will be a turning point for my son. I know that he “got it.” Now it’s up to him to run with it, to do the work. To prepare his future.
Perhaps our best memory inducers, brain boosters, stress-reducers and even pleasure centers are those lit up by what naturally engages us. The gift I offered my son by inviting this fascinating architect to sit and talk was a gift to myself. I had no idea that would be the case. I am now keenly aware that somehow I must dust off the tables and chairs neglected in my own brain. I need my mind challenged, stretched, and stimulated. That cannot be done in isolation.
As for the generosity of this man, in sharing his time and arranging for a followup, I am immensely grateful. Where my son may go from here, I can only imagine. As for myself, I am uncertain. But I am open to not knowing.
Learning is contagious. Learning is addicting. The more you learn, the more you want to know. I have done 3 degrees so far and I am not done yet. Seriously thinking of a PhD since employment continues to elude me. Why not?
I have found that when you want someone in your life to not become dissuaded from their dreams, it is best to introduce them to someone who can encourage–and enlighten–that dream.
Wonderful, just wonderful.
I love those moments of passionate engagement. As a student I found these most in English courses in graduate school and art history courses in college – the feeling of effortless interest mixed with a catalytic desire to learn more.
I share your dream to be a true Renaissance woman, but too often the end of the day finds me lounging on the couch rather than exploring my interests. Oh, to be young(er), surrounded by learning, and wise enough to appreciate it more!
I hope this special encounter continues to impress your son and helps him on his path toward his own passions.
After years being the perfect student I am embracing learning outside of the university setting. Free to investigate and explore whatever I want, I am enjoying it so much more than classes I was required to take in order to earn my degrees.
Glad you had such an awesome night. Soak it up!
“The rooms of my own capacity were undergoing renovation; a new structure was forming…” This is stunning. May we never stop learning. May we never close ourselves off to knowing – and not knowing. Magical stuff. And I don’t know him, but I am excited for your son.
How wonderful that you gave your son that experience. And how great that it put you in such a good mood. Learning is fun. It reminds me of a few professors I had (one in grad school, the others undergrad) who taught with such passion and breadth and depth, it was impossible not to be swept up. I’m glad you got to sleep.
Exactly, David – and now I need to make sure that enthusiasm doesn’t fade in the overload of school work. And I have one more architect (of a different sort and who went to two other schools) who is going to come speak with him in a few weeks. Wanted him to have several points of view, and fortunately, I had a few acquaintances to call upon who are born mentors. A whole other issue – but we can influence not only our own kids, but others, if we take the time to do so. Good for them, good for us, good all round.
Perhaps even our so-called reality is in a sense architected by our collective consciousness, by the fountain of our archetypal forms. When we stop knowing, or being limited by our old way of seeing we come to life. In brain terms you leapt through the veil between your worrying sleepless primitive brain and your appreciating, intuitive, playful and pleasurable pre-frontal cortex. But that is merely the equipment. The consummation of the great opera house is the music… a music that is playing beautifully all around us when we are fortunate enough, as you were last night, to listen softly enough to hear it… and hear it still playing in the car on the way to school with your son.
Namaste
To be that age again and to really appreciate the education we had available, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I think about high school years blown lackadaisically cruising through classes I was barely interested in (okay, it was Arizona in the 70s) and college not fully studying or reading or really absorbing any of the material I was being taught.
I’ve been feeling some of that same enthusiasm you mention, BLW, as I’ve been signing my son up for high school because the school is top notch, everything he could want to learn, any avenue to pique his interests. Will he appreciate it or will he just do what I did so many years ago?
(Has your son read The Fountainhead yet? That’s how I fell in love with architecture! Howard Roark!)
Running out the door for the ride to high school (he drives, then I drive home) – not sure he’s read the Fountainhead! One of my favorite books as a teen and young adult. Great idea, Linda. Will ask him!
That sounds like a very cool evening.
I love moments like this; it really does take a village.
Last year when my daughter was looking at colleges, we had a w/e in NYC at NYU, Barnard, Sarah Lawrence….
We both got so excited, like you said, by the possibilities just there, beyond the horizon. Part of me wanted to be 17 again and starting out. Mostly tho, just excited to see her so inspired.
Enjoy this special, tense time.
So Maureen – what time of year did you make your trek to NYU, Barnard and Sarah Lawrence? Were you able to fit all that into a weekend, complete with college tours? (It is exciting to see them inspired, isn’t it. You are so right!)
You are right–learning will keep you young and able to continually stretch your boundaries. It’s something we all should remember, because so often as we age we unconsciously start narrowing our lives rather than expanding.
Awesome post.
When learning looks us in the eyes, it is an amazing thing. I find it easiest to see in my children but have seen it in adult friends who are going after additional education.
I have had a break from the college touring and the child trying to figure out what he/she wants from life for a year or so. I love seeing it unfold, in their eyes, in front of us.
I have toyed for several years now with going back to school. I had been accepted to some of the biggest B-schools in the country right out of undergrad but got married and had a family instead. I want to finish what I started then but with a renewed focus on sustainable economies. I just need to find the program that fits.
I think Amber said it perfectly – it really is (and could be) a family holiday. And I love Keith’s switcheroo for the Hershey’s kisses. I like mine with nuts. 🙂 But the candy hearts are divine. Not so much for eating, but for the lovely bond to our childhoods, and the innocence of those delightful messages.
I am so so happy for this. But you know that already. Dusting off the tables and chairs in your mind? These are words I can see! It is cluttered up there, and yet empty. Filled with too much nothingness and not enough somethingness. I, too, need to move things around, shift, sit, poise, move again and begin to feel inspiration anew.