I practically had the courtyard outside the Museum Building to myself; it was where the thing had come to rest. Obviously the rain had dampened the curiosity of most, but as I mentioned in an earlier Ireland post, I wasn’t going to let a little weather rain on my parade.
The more I stood there considered my golden egg, the more it began to speak to me, and not just in dollar signs. I heard humanity speak in that blob of leftover gold. The inner sphere was mankind, the outer sphere Christianity. After all, it was sitting on the grounds of Trinity College. But it looked so mechanical, especially up close. What was that all about?
Of course, as monks, they probably had a direct line to a higher power that had created our world in the first place. Like the Book of Kells, maybe this was just more prophesizing without all the transcribing.
Yep, I could see our world imploding any day now; North Korea was standing by, ready to set the fuse. Maybe war was the catalyst for our self-destruction (the outer sphere), with a new world (the inner sphere) emerging after the apocalypse. There are certainly more than a few New World Order theories out there with groups waiting to jump at the chance.
“Come on, Sherry,” Jimmy called to me from his position in line. “The lines moving; we’re heading into the Book of Kells exhibit.”
“What do you think it is?” I asked Jimmy after rejoining the group.
“It’s a work of art by Italian sculptor Arnaldo Pomordoro,” Jimmy replied.
It was the usual 'men are from Mars, women are from Venus' conversation. He sees a work of art; I see a metaphor for civilization.
Reading from a brochure, Jimmy went on to elaborate; somewhat smugly, I might add.
“The sculpture reflects and accommodates the environment with its own complex mix of imagery that can be seen as both humanistic and technology-oriented: a smooth exterior womb erupted by complex interior forms. Timely in its introduction, the sculpture is intended as a metaphor for the coming of a new millennium, a promise for the rebirth of a less troubled and destructive world.”
“You don't say!”
"I do say," Jimmy volleyed back, before adding, "Apparently there are almost a dozen more of these sculptures around the world. There's one at the Vatican, one at the UN, one in Washington, D.C. . . . "
"I get it, " I said, interrupting the flow of information.
"There's even one in Des Moines," Jimmy concluded before handing me the brochure.
"As in Iowa," I queried.
As in driving distance from Chicago, I mused as I made future plans.
"Iowa," Jimmy repeated.
"Wow, this Pomordoro guy has been busy,” I reflected as we made our way into the Museum.
Little ole Des Moines, Iowa I tossed around in my head as I closed the book on my golden egg fiasco.
Apparently the world over, we're all very busy at work striving for perfection, be it personally or globally, even as we concede the cracks and fissures are inevitable. Our conscience, that inner voice that encourages us to do right by mankind and planet earth, is ultimately what will save us all from destruction.
Now that’s something you can take to the bank.