There is a stunning moment during a visit to Giverny that must transform anyone who surrenders to Monet’s home and gardens: focus on the water lilies floating in that pond, take a tightly-framed photograph, and, in looking at the results, realize that Monet’s paintings of his water lilies on display in the Musée de l’Orangerie in Paris and so many other museums around the world are far from being frozen moments in time. They are portals to ongoing captivating moments where life and art and learning are inextricably interwoven. Invitations to allow ourselves to flow into and become part of exquisite extended timeless moments that stimulate and overwhelm our senses beyond anything a photograph or words can capture. And they transform the way we view and experience the world.
See those water lilies onsite one time, and you will never be the same.
Which, of course, describes any first-rate learning moment. We dive into our subject. We feel it. We hear it. We smell it. We experience it. We acknowledge it and reflect upon it so its meanings and nuances completely obliterate us. We cherish it. We absorb it. And we carry it with us for the rest of our lives, transformed and reinvigorated every time we recall and re-experience it.
Arriving onsite in Giverny early enough on a damp gray Saturday morning recently to first enjoy coffee and croissants in a restaurant immersed in a prelude to flowers spread throughout the artist’s gardens, those of us who made the trip together immediately found ourselves melting into the environment. Just like a great learning space sets the mood for exquisite learning moments, the restaurant and the damp-glistening narrow streets removed all sense of time and obligations. When we walked through the entrance and strolled through the initial gardens to reach Monet’s house, we began to feel the presence of the artist and appreciate the pinks and greens and blues and yellows that make Monet’s home shimmer. The flow of light into those rooms. Even hints of the inspiration that must have caressed the artist each day he lived within the setting he so lovingly created.
The same sense of learning-through-experience that has been with me nearly every moment since I arrived in Paris more than a week ago continues to make me live each moment at least three times: once as I experienced it. Once as I become aware of how much it is transforming me by giving me glimpses into the mind and heart and soul of such a seminal figure in our cultural history. And a third time as I reflect upon it and try to capture it through these pieces on my blog. Each moment makes me appreciate how much of a commitment Monet made to create an environment that so completely supported his daily life and his creative spirit. And thinking once again about the learners with whom I have the luck to work, it makes me think of how important it is—every day, every minute we have together—to help create environments that are equally enticing, supporting, inspiring, and transformative since anything less than that robs all of us of possibilities to learn and thrive and grow that we cannot afford to overlook.
I move deeper into that house. Then spend a couple of hours—completely unaware of the passage of time—meandering through the wild profusion of fragrances, birdsong, founds of water flowing past in a nearby stream in the company of friends and strangers. Feeling the crisp morning air caressing my skin, and raindrops tickling my face and arms and the surface of the pond. I sink into the setting. Into memories of having seen the paintings in l’Orangerie a few days earlier. Into all I’ve ever read and studied about Monet and all he produced. And it comes together in a lesson that slams years of learning into a stunningly emotional moment of revelation. The revelation that what the artist captures is, above all, an essential element of what drives each of us, in our own way and at very personal levels, to be all that we can: the desire to create, reflect, share what we experience, and then repeat the process as long as we have the energy to sustain it.
When we finally leave the garden and finish a leisurely lunch back at the same restaurant that had served as a gateway to the house and gardens, we gently make the transition from that sensual paradise back into the larger world we inhabit by walking through the nearby Impressionist museum which displays wonderful paintings—and extends our understanding of and appreciation for what Monet and others have given to us. We work our way back to our car and prepare for the return to the very different, equally transformative settings of Paris in all its splendor. And, if we have learned anything worth learning, we have once again learned that every moment we fully live offers another opportunity to learn what is important to us. And how to keep it alive through everything we do.
NB: This is the fifth in a series of reflections on traveling and learning in Paris.
Building Creative Bridges 