Jim Morrison, mastering emotions and a familiar museum in Paris

14/5 - We hear all the time advice about keeping our emotions in check. Mastering them. Until recently, I had never truly understood this concept or how to accomplish it.

Diego and I visited The Louvre art museum in Paris this weekend. It's world famous for obvious reasons, because the Mona Lisa is there. This was my third time visiting, and I enjoyed it much more than the other two because I finally understood this concept; It was a breakthrough of sorts.

I hated my two previous experiences inside the Louvre because I let outside influences bother me. The sheer numbers of people, the camera phones, the jostling, the stressful environment of fighting crowds of people to see artistic masterpieces overwhelmed me in the past. It was sensory overload.

My idea of an art museum is a quiet, calm place where one can contemplate the piece on the wall. It should be a place where anxieties vanish. The Louvre is not this place. It's fast-paced, like the city of Paris itself. But then again, there is nothing typical about The Louvre.

This time, however, I controlled my own emotions and how much outside factors got to me inside the museum. I reminded myself that I can't control how many people are there or what they do. I caught myself getting stressed a few times, because I personally don't understand the point of taking a picture of a painting when you can Google it and get a better image. But I digress.

Diego and I strolled at our own pace, looking at the art. I took a few deep breaths and muted those around me; I began to feel separate from them. The large groups of tourists all craning their necks and stretching their cameras in the air at an attempt to get a picture became simply another feature of the museum.

This left me with yet another opportunity to study the Mona Lisa from about 20 feet away, behind and right to the rock-concert-like mosh pit of people. I noticed she had no eyebrows. The background of the painting was blurry. Her wrists looked swollen. The size of the painting was larger than I had remembered it, but still entirely unremarkable to me.

This experience helped me contemplate the concept of being in control of emotions, rather than vice versa.

As humans we're going to succumb to fits of anger, annoyance, rage, sadness, indifference, joy, ecstasy and so on. We should recognize those emotions and let them flow. What we should not do is allow them to influence decisions. We should wait until those emotions burn out so we can make a decision during a more stable, logical mindset.

I learned inside The Louvre that my annoyance, anxiety and anger shouldn't prevent me from enjoying the museum. I shouldn't let them form my opinion of the gallery. During my two previous visits, those negative emotions dictated my experience and opinion.

17/5 - This is a story of one of my most unique travel experiences, and it involves a graveyard.

Before taking flight later in the day, Diego and I visited Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. There are many famous names buried here, including the playwrite Oscar Wilde. But my biggest draw was Jim Morrison, the lead singer of The Doors, who died in 1971 in Paris after being found dead in his bathtub in his 4th District apartment. My favorite song from this band is Riders on the Storm.

This cemetery is centuries old, and there are many large gravestones and memorials crowding one another, among small dirt trails between them. It's quite a big place, and finding particular graves can be difficult as was Morrison's.

Diego and I walked along the cobblestone pathway, which curved to the left and uphill. Clutching a map of the cemetery, we turned our heads this way and that in the general area along with two other women also looking for the same grave. Not until a man pointed it out to us did we find it.

Morrison's grave is tucked behind several other larger memorials and is easy to miss, but the many gifts of colorful flowers gives it away. Diego and I found a metal fence in front of the grave, to keep people from getting too close. We jumped over it while several other people watched (and one commented on my legitimate camera).

Diego asked me if I had anything to say to Mr. Morrison. After a pause I said, "Jim Morrison, Rider on the Storm, we salute you."

I've been listening to The Doors a lot ever since then, and the band seems much more real and closer to me than before.