God in the Funniest Places

 Or maybe not.

On this year's trip we included a side trip to Madrid, partially because Janet had never visited there before and partially to embark on a museum orgy. The drive from Evora to Madrid (and through the madness of Madrid traffic) was a bit of a challenge, made more so by the fact that it was 106 F. Still, it was so lovely to get back to the big three museums in Madrid: Museo Nacional del Prado, Muyseo Thyssen-Bornemisza, and Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. We almost didn't go to the Thyssen, at least until I told Janet to do a little more research; mainly, she was being sensitive to my limited mobility and thought that two long museums days in two days was already going to wear on me, let along throwing in another long museum walk for the second day. However, once she did some more research on the Thyssen it, thankfully, worked its way back into the itinerary. Even considering my pain I loved every minute of our museum tours (I had not visited them in a few years). 

I had a couple quasi-religious experiences (and I'm not throwing the term around lightly). One related to El Greco, and I'll discuss that later. The other one related to sitting down in front of Rothko's Green on Maroon. Throughout the three museums I tended to move from bench to bench, then plopping down and resting for a few (sometimes more than a few) minutes. This limited the amount that I saw, although, to bear fair, I had visited all three museums a couple times previously (again, my life makes no sense), but it also forced me/allowed me/empowered me tp devote more time and attention to individual paintings. Late in the afternoon when we visited the Thyssen I collapsed down in front of Rothko's Green on Maroon and it all but swallowed me up. I snapped this picture and texted it to a couple friends, commenting that I think I saw God in the painting. Normally, in the past, my friends would have rightly assumed that I was being facetious - and they probably would have been right - but now, they would more naturally assume that I was making a sincere point as I struggled with my understanding of the divine - and in this case they would have been right as well; essentially, I'm not the man that I used to be. If, as we're taught in the Qur'an, God is as close as our jugular vein, then God can be found anywhere, even in a painting, and maybe especially in a painting.

Over the last few years I've found myself drawn to Rothko's paintings. I'm not certain why it took so long.