It’s December. I love this month.
Filled with holidays and birthdays — mine, my sister Carol, and my granddaughter Aayah. She in fact is yet to be born as of this writing (her mom goes in to be induced on my birthday, December 9. Yes, my #9 dream). Fingers crossed that all goes well. For her birth, but also for everyone, everywhere in these perilous times.
It is also the 37th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon, one of the most influential people of the 20th century and one of my personal heroes.
Many people will be singing his idealistic anthem “Imagine” on December 8, and I have always loved it too. But a deep favorite will always be his “#9 Dream.” Spare, elegiac, and spiritually cryptic, the lyrics are a stream of consciousness, born in a moment in time. He sings while the melody drifts. And lingers. And haunts.
Last month Virginia and I took a trip half way across Portugal to the medieval town of Tomar. It’s a place so laden with history, secrets and mysteries it’s impossible to describe without having to refer to volumes of writings about it (Wikipedia’s page here, is a fascinating start). Instead, I took the easy way out and let a few photos and visuals try to give a feeling of what it was like to walk inside the long ago past.
Using John Lennon’s music in a place so Catholic and Christian may seem out of place at first. But if one knows anything of Lennon, he was a seeker and sought out truth and meaning wherever he was.