theatrum mundi

You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task. 

John Keats

There is a theory that the world is like a spacious theater where the actors use their talents and skills to learn, practice, and live their part – this is the Theatrum Mundi. I was so excited when I discovered this term, because this is how I have always viewed the world and the people in it that I meet and know!! Also, life is a journey, right? And one that ascends from the beginning to the end - just as a play carries its story from the start to the finish…orrr steps carry their traveler from bottom to top. I was sitting at the foot of the Spanish Steps here in Rome on an overcast rainy day last month, and as I chilled out and reflected on the scene before me, it hit me: the Spanish steps capture that theory of this world as a spacious theater, where the inhabitants mingle, practice, and live their roles. Steps have had their analogical part in literature as leading from this life to the next (think, The Bible) and with this in mind, the Spanish steps can be seen as the reminding role, the memento mori of the Theatrum Mundi, pointing us to the End Goal of our journey in life. If you’re not familiar with the Spanish Steps, they are formally called The Scalinata della Trinita dei Monti,  and are a set of steps in Rome that are built on a steep slope with the Piazza di Spagna at the base and the Trinità dei Monti church overlooking it at the top. When standing at the top, in front of the house of God, I had an advantageous view of man and his architectural accomplishments below. From the bottom of the steps, the height and expanse of the rows and rows of beautiful stonework stretching above and ahead was both an inspiring and intimidating experience. But the Spanish Steps not only have its own role in the Theatro Mundi – inside my mind – as a reminder of this life as a journey, but it has also had its role in actual film: the Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and The Talented Mr. Ripley with Matt Damon. (Also, cool fact: its the widest staircase in Europe.) But the most fascinating thing about the steps for me was that at the bottom right corner is the house where John Keats lived and died his slow horrible death from Tuberculosis. Until Keats left this world at the young age of twenty-four, his eyes looked upon this very scene countless days and nights, as he contemplated the complexities - both the beautiful and the sorrowful - of this world. To be so close to the residence of such a mastermind of poetry was a super profound experience for me. I’ve also been blessed enough to see his grave here in Rome and pray for his departed soul in front of it. Anyways, I found out later that eating lunch on the steps is prohibited, as it is forbidden by Roman urban regulations. However, there are just so many tourists strolling and resting among the steps, taking pictures, modeling, posing, laughing, and when you close your eyes, all you can hear is traffic sounds, horns, screaming, and peddlers with their incredibly annoying, fake, squeaky toys. There is a constant jumble of different languages and schoolchildren screaming and laughing in Italian. I thought to myself, “This is not what I was expecting. I thought it would be cleaner and quieter.” To be honest, when I heard, “The Spanish Steps”, I imagined golden steps, sun kissed by the warm Spanish sun, and senoritas selling red roses in billowy skirts. The Leowe, Dior, Sephora, Longchamp, and Missoni shops across the street are distracting to the ancient feel of the steps and piazza. But despite the chaos and noise, I realized that this is interesting and different compared to the other countless Roman piazzas. It seems disgraceful and disrespectful to have all these loud people with their modern technology and cameras. But then again this is just like other Roman piazzas; old, worn, busy. The modern attire of the pedestrians is in stark contrast with the neutral tones of the steps. However, the architecture surrounding the steps has a hint of the theatrical flare of Spain, with its warm terracotta oranges, yellows, and browns. There is a sense of the old mixed with the new, as the ancient structures are mingled with the slightly newer looking buildings. Across the street the rooftop gardens on top the apartments over the aforementioned modern stores look like an oasis of peace and beauty compared to this noise and chaos. If the piazza was not touristy and busy I can imagine it as quiet, ominous, noble, and an awe-inspiring place, full of history and power. But in the end, this stark contrast brought to mind the role of fallen man and his treatment of the beautiful and spacious theater of natural creation. As I squinted through the droplets of rain, it was obvious that the obelisk is off-centered. I wondered…why in the world is the obelisk so obviously off centered? But somehow it works. It is a reminder of the imperfection of this life. While the steps are a reminder of the journey of life, and that the dwelling of God at the top is the finish goal, the flaw of the obelisk brings one’s imagination back down to earth again, where we are temporary residents.
And so: Life is like the worn yet noble stone of the Spanish steps, where poets, strangers, and travelers alike all mingle and participate in the drama, with the residence of the Divine One waiting for us at the top.