Social clubs…never really gave them much thought.
My first time as a ‘guest’ on the North American continent, I was invited for a lunchtime visit.
One might be tempted to ask why such places exist.
Where the nondescript entrance led to was not really important. Neither were the forgotten names that adorned the halls. No, nothing of value…nothing valued nearly as much as the messages passed through the writing on the walls. Rules or codes of conduct are what resonate the most.
Such are places where, when accomplished men enter, they leave their coats at the door, along with the weight of all social status that normally instills relentless competition. For there is a need for places at the tables where people can be reminded of the threads that link us all, through time and distorted histories. A neutral gathering of the minds, a place to develop character where that gnawing unrelenting competition is unnecessary…and unwelcome among peers.
No one sits alone and no one is allowed to buy anyone a round. Sure, bets can be made and dice can be rolled to see who shouts the next drink, as is the custom of mild-mannered gentlemen.
My social status may never reach that which is worthy of such invitation that would merit membership. Still, I am thankful for the opportunity that was shared. From that, I learned, as well as recognized, the need for cooperation in creative spaces from which ‘sacred’ productions are born.
No one stands out among the circle of men who have risen so high. No one stands out where all are bound by the threads that weave a fabric of cooperation.
Sometimes, it only takes a glimpse to reassure that the driving and ever-present restlessness is subservient to an ageless collaboration upon which everything is founded.
I felt honored to have been a guest and to have been surrounded by such humility.