Last night my husband and I attended a tribute concert to John Lennon in the Botanical Gardens. A fitting place for the tribute because we were sitting in the very garden where Lennon found his muse the double fantasy freesia, a beautiful flower, allowing him to tap into his creativity again. It was in the garden we sat last night that he composed his last album before he was killed. Aptly titled Double Fantasy.
The weather forecast had predicted a stormy night at first with two fronts approaching Bermuda but the stormy weather never came. A few times the moon was obscured by heavy threatening clouds. Only for them to be magically dispersed. And occasionally rain misted down on us. Almost as if to refresh us rather than soak us.
Once the show began the sky cleared leaving us unobstructed views of a sky blanketed with twinkling stars and a perfect crescent moon resting amongst them. The air a perfect temperature. Looking around at all the people who had come to take in the Lennon feeling of love filled me with joy. Some setting up picnics on the hill as families. Others like us going as friends to relive our youth. Letting loose and enjoying the love and joy freely flowing through the crowd.
I could feel Lennon’s spirit shining down on us. His presence, I believe, a large factor for chasing away the stormy weather. Making way for a picturesque setting against the backdrop of an unobstructed night sky. Allowing the perfect conditions for everyone to have a great time.
Sitting there last night taking in the atmosphere absorbing the love so prevalent throughout the crowd. Looking from face to face. I realized just how quickly life can change no matter our social standing. No matter who we are. Reminding me, we are never immune from the hands of fate. We never know when our last day will come. Reminding me to live as if each second, each moment is my last. Reminding me to be love, give love and receive love.
I wondered as I watched the slide show of Lennon with his then young son, who is now a man himself, whether he knew he was on borrowed time when he took his last voyage to Bermuda. I wondered if he had a feeling deep down inside compelling him to sail here with his son. I wondered if he wanted to give his son a gift to remember him always. I wondered if these feelings allowed him to open to a deeper part of himself. A part of himself he had sheltered before. I wondered if his new found love of life and self allowed him to write again after 5 years of writer’s block.
To allow his son and us to know no matter what, all we need is love. No matter how desperate the situation we may find ourselves in, love will always take us out of it.
For him to die having found love so profoundly and deeply as he did in his last year of life was probably worth more to him than the fame he had acquired his whole life. I looked around the garden and at the stars twinkling in the sky and whispered thank you to Lennon for reminding me just how powerful love can really be. So powerful that I believe it pushed all the bad weather away last night. And allowed us to enjoy a night of Lennon and love.
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