The Angel & The Chicken
Unreasonably Scared
Dear friend,
I’m gently swearing under my breath, at least I think I’m keeping it to myself until Chiara reminds me where we are, and maybe I should stop.
We’re thirty metres up in the air, climbing the south tower of Cologne Cathedral. The stairs are encased in stone, the only way I can fall is if the tower, which has survived the passing of centuries and world war, collapses suddenly under my feet.
I switch to politer forms of self soothing for a few seconds until the swearing re-establishes itself, quieter this time, as bundles of school children swoop past fearlessly intent on reaching the top.
The longer I spend in the tower the more I am able to relax. I look down through a window and see a middle aged woman standing on a scaffolding platform, casually waiting for the construction workers lift to take her to ground level. There is a community of people working up here on the roof.
The South Tower is 157 metres tall, that’s about 516 feet.
You can’t get to the absolute top, but there’s a circular walkway that must be about 100 metres up. There are human sized angels hiding in the ornate gothic stone carvings. You can’t see them from the ground.
Imagine the skill, effort and risk that went into raising these stone figures so high above the city.
The sky is clear. The city below surprisingly green.
Is this where Wim Wenders had the idea for his beautiful visual poem “Wings of Desire”?
We can live in a world where angels watch over us, come to our aid when we call. The light that streams through the stained glass of the cathedral, the vibration of silence within the great dome are sacred, or simply a museum for a bygone age.
Each must choose for themselves.
The power of Spirit is inconceivable to our limited consciousness. The grandeur of the world’s great monuments merely specks of dust.
Dizzy, swearing and sweating. My belongings - wallet, phone, sunglasses clutched tightly in a canvas bag, the fearful human climbing the monument to the divine.
To go beyond our limited sense of self we must face our fears.
One of the angels has a chicken perched on their hand. Chiara is very much taken by the image. She’s also completely at home with heights. It’s more likely a rooster, a symbol associated with Peter denying he knew Jesus three times before the coming of the dawn.
Also a symbol for the dawning of a new day, the coming of the light.
In my imagination I fly back to that tower and perch next to the angel.
Back here on earth we make our choices.
Loving despite our fears.
Forgiving despite our reactivity.
A kid on the tower rudely commands Chiara to move out of his way.
A boy.
I sense perhaps hurt by a father figure. Playing the rebel.
My first reaction, given my vertigo induced state of anxiety is to tear a strip off him.
Maybe bully him the way his father might.
It takes a few moments of inner adjustment, to forgive, to love.
To see the boy as a brother.
It’s a practice.
One step at a time.
Safe inside.
These ancient stones.
These dreams of old.
Till Tomorrow
Love
Mikey