Time Travel

My favorite place in the world is the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, New York. I've gone a few times, but one time, in particular, sticks out to me.

During college, I nearly minored in art history, but my procrastination tendencies forced my hand, and I never declared. I enjoyed taking the classes as much as I could because nearly every semester we'd get to pay a small fee of $40 and museum entry to wander around the Museum District of the Big Apple.

Though I've been to the MoMA and the Guggenheim, and enjoyed them thoroughly, my heart couldn't stay away from the MET. I was very much a loner in college, but I was also very much a stoner. So on one of these fateful field trips, I took it upon myself to bring a concentrated pen vaporizer with me. I toked up in Central Park among the birds and the trees and the crowds of people that New York brings before heading inside my favorite place on the face of this Earth.

That fateful day in the MET, I traveled through time. I felt the love, the loss, and the immortality of each piece I came across. From Ancient Egypt, to Feudal Japan, to the European Renaissance. I lived and died a million lifetimes. Travel back in time with me and experience Metropolitan Magic.

When you enter the MET you stumble across the Great Hall. Its classical Beaux-Arts interior is breathtaking and reminiscent of late 19th-century New York City. Even though it was crowded that day, I couldn't see anyone else around me. The drone of a thousand voices was nothing compared to the weight of my footsteps on the stone floor. My stomach dropped looking up at the cathedral-esque ceiling, and I recognized it was truly a place of ascension and spiritual growth. I bought my ticket at a kiosk and set off to explore. I took a left out of the Great Hall into history.

First stop, Greek and Roman art.

I lived through battles. Witnessed my brothers-in-arms fall next to me as I waded through the carnage. Saw their battered armor, helmets, and shields. But I was also alive to witness the art that was created out of our losses. Ornate vases and pitchers and plates, carefully glazed; ancient craftsmanship. I met the Gods. Their marble statues standing taller than I, begging for me to take a knee and acknowledge their power. I mentally complied, and I felt the weight of the world as the skies opened up to tell me I was home.

As I turned right, I entered the Michael C. Rockefeller Wing.

I was pulled in many different directions, all tribal in nature. From sub-Saharan Africa to the South Pacific Islands, I learned what it was to work hard and find community. Intricate wood carvings represented new deities, new idols of worship, and again I allowed them to speak. Spirits whispered in my ear, gently, sounding like the sea and sandstorms all at once. Unspoken figures of humanity came back to life, bringing me with them through their journeys, for which I will forever be grateful.

Moving forward, I found myself back in the Modern and Contemporary, though I was still traveling well before my lifetime.

I witness the erosion of the classical and felt the defiance present through pop art, abstraction, and minimalism. Its rough edges shaped me into developing a deeper understanding of capitalism in the art world. I felt the rebellion, the change, and the hope expressed in these pieces. I also felt the sadness, the loss, and the pain poured into the work. I was cold and uncomfortable, but that's the point, isn't it? Though the art contrasted with its classical counterparts, and some may say it's more simplistic, that simplicity sure made me think about a lot.

Bearing right, I found myself bearing witness to European Sculpture and Decorative Art.

I got to learn new languages as I witnessed French, Italian, German, English, and Spanish sculpture and decoration. I slept in bedrooms I would never see again, ornate and rich, wealth I would never understand. I dined at vast, long tables, fit for a king, and I was royalty at that moment. Though I couldn't touch, I felt the shapes and curves of the wood and marble beneath my fingertips. I knew the work, blood, sweat, and tears that artisans poured into these pieces. Pieces they likely couldn't enjoy themselves. I allowed them to live through me, to enjoy the essence of the monumental beauty. As our souls intertwined, I felt the weight of inequality on my shoulders.

Moving forward, I traveled further back into European history, where religion and superstition reign supreme; Medieval Times.

I cried with the Madonna as she lost her only son, over, and over, and over again. Innumerous times we sobbed together over this neverending depiction of a mother's love and mourning. We also got to experience joy together as there was also no shortage of her son's birth either. Jesus, in all of his forms, reigned supreme in this wing. A figure for humanity; I asked him if he understood the impact he left on the world, but he didn't answer. Outside of the metaphysical, I fought wars from all sides. Senseless, brooding, but prideful. Dying for kings and queens that didn't know our names for land rights that didn't so much matter one bit. The darkness in the area left a shadow over the time I was traveling, and that feeling was palpable.

Next stop: Asian Art.

I met Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Shiva, Vishnu, Shoulao, and more. I felt the differences between the East and the West, and the zen of the East was preferable. The architecture was just as ornate, and the decorations were so complex yet balanced. I was walking on a tightrope with my head bowed in respect. The air was light and clean, smelling of peace. I ate off of pottery dishes and drank rice wine from the most beautiful pitchers. I felt the tickle of each brush stroke on my skin as it left its mark on thin, long-lasting xuan paper. I walked past tapestries so vast and detailed, it was hard to believe that they were real.

But, I had to move on, and off to Ancient Egypt, I went.

I prayed at the Temple of Dendur and bathed my sins away in the Nile. I read the stories of the hieroglyphs and felt connected through it all. Though the stone was weathered and washed off, I saw the color from the day it was created. Vibrant, beautiful, and alive. A tribute to a mighty power so old, but not so far removed from ourselves. I met so many kings and queens, Pharaohs as they prefer, and I bid them my respect before bidding the museum adieu. Lady Nephthys sends her regards.

My time was up, and I had to catch the bus lest get stuck in New York City, stranded and beholden to my own money and wit to find my way back home. That day will stay with me forever. The day I was a time traveler. I got to be so many people, hold so many occupations, and feel the humanity embedded and intertwined into each individual soul. I felt the connection of our special species, neverending and immortal. Transcending religion, wealth, and history.

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The Metropolitan Museum of Art is located at 1000 5th Ave, New York, NY 10028. If you're ever in the city and you go no place else, you must visit this amazing building. The MET is open 7 days a week from 10-5, and from 10-9 on Thursdays. Entrance is $20 for adults, $14 for seniors and students, and everyone 19 and under is free. I hope you enjoy your visit as much as I do every time I go.