Thursday, 27 September 2012

The London After-Party

I'm hyper-sensitive to space and locales.  (Like, ever read any of my poetry?)

There were parts of East London - certain little pockets - that spooked me.  That got under my skin is funny, crawly ways.  Like I could feel a tainted history.  Or the souls trying to come back.  Today,  I walked by Bethnal Green Tube Station, where they are erecting a memorial to those killed in the disaster there in 1943.  I wondered if this tragedy held some of what I felt when in that area.

Yesterday, walking up across the canal on Roman Road, I could see the Olympic Park in the distance!  How amazing!

And I felt like I always do after I've had a party.  Sometimes, your house is too much your house - energies get trapped, ideas get fixed, things stop moving.  Then, you invite friends over.  First you clean, then you cook, everything smells good and looks good.  Then your amazing friends show up with food and drink and laughter and joy and conversation.

When they leave, it's as if your house is new again.  As if they took all the energy that was stuck and shook it up like a snow globe - all that's left is sparkly and and floaty.

Maybe that's what the Olympics did for London.  All that cleaning and preparing.  Then the tens of thousands - no, millions - of new people coming in with their excitement and wonder and awe.

They've left, but London feels good.  Newer.  Not so dowdy or frightened in places.  Not so heavy.  As if the people who visited left their happinesses and took away some of the lingering traces of what had gone before.

Even with the cold approaching, things feel good.  People feel good.  Like the oldest new place in the world.

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