On this side of the pond, the sun has seen fit to show its face after several days of moist gloom. In London, where Prince William and Kate Middleton were scheduled to marry, the forecast included a possibility of rain, but the panoply and splendor and excusably contrived delight shone through. Newscasters were left inept by the fact that, however wonderfully grand, this was just two people getting married and there wasn't a hell of a lot to report. But all I had to do was hear that the wedding playbill included the singing of "Jerusalem" and I too fell victim to the event.The hymn, which rivals "The Star Spangled Banner" for un-sing-ability, makes my heart soar and my eyes water every time.
The perspective that crosses my mind is this: Who in this lifetime does not choose a royalty -- some intangible aspect that reaches beyond daily concerns of wealth or poverty or family and friends ... some brightness that is as untouched as it is untouchable, that stands beyond the mundane or profound, that is blithely unconcerned with mere religion or philosophy or savvy description ... that is ... well, simply bright. It has no earthly use and yet without this royal realm we all become, somehow, useless. Speaking of it is like piss in a snowbank -- paltry and small.
Churches make vast sums based on this individual sense of royalty, but there is something apostate in their gain. This is wider than the arms of a child that runs to greet its mother. It is wider than "love." It simply is and it is nourishing. It whispers and yet is shy as a unicorn, retreating to the shadows before those who speak of God or enlightenment or the wonders of mercantile wealth. It lacks all contrast and casts no shadow.
It is regal without desire.
It enfolds and infuses.
It defies the title of "dream."
It leaves newscasters like me wallowing in nonsense.
This ... royal ... moment.