The Mindful Migraine

Many, many, many, years ago, I studied art in high school. One of our major works required us to explore the changing way women were represented in art. I recall that we had to choose three images, from different eras, and then find a way to mix their messages.

Strangely, I can still remember the three images I chose – the bust of Queen Nefertiti (c. 1345 BCE); “The Swing” (c.1767) by Jean-Honoré Fragonard; and “Crying Girl” (1964) by Roy Lichtenstein:

I don’t know whether I knew that the middle painting was a bit pervy back then – or whether that’s precisely why I chose it… I’m guessing the later, as I had a strong feminist streak back then… regardless… I vaguely remember cutting replicas of the images into fragments and then reassembling them into a new, single, multi-faceted image that ‘splayed’ meaning in a new way…

Anyway – before I get tooooo distracted – the point is, having studied art AND Ancient History at high school, the bust of Nefertiti was on my bucket list of things to see if I ever made it overseas.

Around about the time I turned 21 I was lucky enough to become a carry-over champion on a TV game-show (more on that another day) and by selling my prizes, I was able to go backpacking through Europe for a short period of time. As it so happened, I found myself in Berlin, Germany, for ONE DAY. Putting aside how queasy I feel about the highly emotive issue of imperial-empire-art-looting, I decided to go see the 3,000-year-old Egyptian Queen Nefertiti in the German museum where she was residing.

After taking in the Brandenburg Gate, I made my way to the museum that my booklet said she was in. I leisurely strolled through the museum and arrived at the cabinet that Nefertiti was in… only… she wasn’t there… or she was… but not the way I imagined her… she was a tiny stone carving the size and shape of a tennis ball… all I could think was “WTF” (sorry not sorry).

With a lot of hand-waving and book pointing (and possible sketching), I finally discovered from a museum caretaker that I was in the wrong museum. Yes, Nefertiti had her likeness in Berlin, and yes, this was ONE OF those, but no, the one I wanted to see was in another museum on the other side of Berlin.

Yikes.

[In my defense – this was a long time ago, back in the ‘dark ages’ of the last millennium when we didn’t have internet, only guidebooks… guidebooks without pictures… or guidebooks that were a year out of date. It was rookie mistake, but not totally my fault.]

Heart in mouth, I rushed to the other side of Berlin on public transport and arrived at the front door of the museum just as they were shepherding the last of the visitors out the door… nooooooooooo!!!!

I can’t remember exactly how the next few minutes unfolded, but I think there were tears, possibly knee-to-floor-begging, and a lot of “I came all the way from Australia” sob-stories…

Regardless – a miracle of sorts happened. Not only did the museum staff let me into the museum, after hours, as the lights were being turned off, but they escorted me all the way to Nefertiti’s cabinet where there was not a single person between her and me. The guard pointed to his watch and held his five fingers up – I had five minutes – then he strolled out to wait in the corridor…

Sigh.

It might not sound like a big deal, but those were amongst the best minutes of my whirlwind tour around Europe. There was something very special about the privacy, the intimacy, the generosity, the near-miss miracle of it all, that made my heart almost burst with mixed emotions. Five minutes later, I think I was still a bit weepy as I thanked everyone at the front door, blowing kisses and bowing deeply…

…and then it was a race to get to the train station to catch my train to… wherever it was.

What does all this have to do with healing?

Not a lot, except that, like my story about getting sick just before I made it to the top of the mountain in Nepal, (and going on to have a wonderful week during my convalescence), sometimes dead-ends aren’t the dead-losses you imagine… sometimes you have to pick yourself up from your mistakes and failures and try like crazy to reverse the situation… and who knows… the dead-end might turn out to be a miracle bucket-list-ticking moment of pure bliss!

And even if it isn’t, and you get “turned away”…. you’ll always know you tried.

Take care out there, Linda xx