From Michigan to California - Lapis Lazuli.

Dear friends,
I have just returned from a lecture tour in the United States. I began in the north, in Michigan. I was invited by Hillsdale College, a university like few others, determined in its own vision and ideology but with a real openness to the Other.

It was an honor to speak at a place where so many remarkable individuals have preceded me, and at a moment when America is seeking its way to the future between feverish enthusiasm and wary anticipation. Many thanks, straight from the heart, to Hillsdale.

I ended in California, all the way in the South, invited by THINQ, a conservative association that appreciates my interpretation of the spirit of the times. It was the second time I spoke in their midst, and I feel the warmth and friendship growing.

The organization had arranged for me to stay for three days at one of the most beautiful resorts in the US, on the rocky coast of California. Normally, such stays aren't my thing – the prices are ridiculous, and I usually prefer to keep it simple.

After three days, I must say: there are worse things than staying at The Montage. I’m quite particular when it comes to food and wine, but I now know that there exists a cuisine that is truly American – not a failed imitation of French or any other cuisine – yet subtle and full of feeling, serving the diversity of nature on a plate.

As for wine, America still needs to find its self-confidence. They need to stop trying to imitate France and get French winemakers to work with French oak barrels on their best vineyards. The best American wine comes from American winemakers who use American oak to create red wine with subtle vanilla flavors. French wine gets ruined with American oak; American wine is brought to its highest level with it.

The second evening, when I went to the lobby for a glass of wine, the pianist asked me if he could play a song of my choice. “On the Nature of Daylight” – that’s the one I’d like. He said, “I don’t know it. Let me hear it.”

I found it a bit strange. A pianist who doesn’t know Max Richter’s most famous piece. I didn’t feel like using my phone in that lobby where the shine of the wood made me long for days gone by.

“Then try another one, Arvo Pärt, Spiegel im Spiegel.” He didn’t know that one either. I played both pieces for him on YouTube. To my surprise, he then played both pieces one after the other, with so much feeling that my eyes closed, and musical notes and wine flavors merged into a world where no boundaries existed. The waitress passed by: “He doesn’t actually know music, he never studied, but let him hear anything and he plays it perfectly.”

On the last day, the sun broke through the clouds. After my morning swim in the cold waters of the wintry Pacific Ocean, I looked with tingling skin towards Mexico. The sunlight sparkled on the choppy waves and cheered like Champagne pouring into a crystal goblet, welcoming freedom.

I turned around and looked towards Los Angeles. The sea had a color that might be my favorite color: the royal blue of Lapis Lazuli. In my mind, I couldn’t get further than the words, “How beautiful it is….”

The busiest months of the year are approaching now. But from time to time, you experience moments that you carry with you, moments that give you confidence that real beauty and goodness exist. Tomorrow, I will dive into the new semester, but for now, I’ll put this into a story. What has been expressed in words accompanies us more faithfully on the winding path of life.

Mattias