Memorable Scenes (Climb More Trees)

I’m going to miss my bike shed. There was a bike shed at the back of Cripps, the accommodation building I was living in this year at uni, and strange as it sounds, I’m really going to miss it. Of course it wasn’t technically ‘mine’ other than in the communal sense that I was allowed to use it, but it felt like mine, because I climbed on it a lot.

Slight tangent at this point: of all the ways to claim ownership of something, climbing on it is my favourite. It is much more socially acceptable than the most popular options in the animal kingdom (weeing on it, trying to mate with it) and also highly enjoyable; it comes with a sense of achievement, pleasurable physical exertion, and a slight frisson of danger.

Anyway, I liked climbing on the roof of the bike shed, and I especially liked it when someone climbed onto the roof with me. There is nothing like a top quality DMC, with your flip-flops dangling over the edge, watching the world go by without anyone realising you’re there.

You’ll be glad to hear that I am actually going somewhere with this, so here goes: I read in a book which I think I’ve mentioned here before, A Million Miles In a Thousand Years by Don Miller, about memorable scenes. Think about films. Lots of the best scenes in the films you most remember happen in memorable settings. Maybe sometimes the characters just sit and chat in a coffee shop, but the best moments, the ones that feel most meaningful, are when they’re on the roof at night, or they’ve climbed a mountain and they’re standing at the peak, or when they row out into the middle of the lake and have a picnic. Does anyone remember the amazing bit in 500 Days of Summer when they fall in love in IKEA?

Now, some may despise that particular scene, and more might think this all just sounds a bit indie and pointless – but I’m quite serious about it. Stories respond to their settings. Imagine that Sarah is swimming out into the lake at dawn, to sit on the little rocky outcrop that is her favourite place, and watch the sun rise. When she gets there, she looks up and sees Rosie sitting there too! They start chatting. What would that conversation be like? Now imagine that Sarah is going to Oxford Street to do some shopping, she sits down on the tube and as she looks up, realises Rosie is sitting next to her. They start chatting. Would that one be the same?

I know this from experience – Rachael was at my house the other day, and some of the time we just were sitting chatting in the living room like so many times before. Then for a bit, we climbed out of Mum and Dad’s window and sat on the roof instead, looking out over the garden (and into the neighbours’, but not in a weird way). As you can imagine – we were different on the roof. It felt like we were sharing something that was worth sitting up and enjoying – we were more alive and attentive to each other in that moment. Looking back though, I’m thinking, what if we’d taken cupcakes out there, and those drinks with little umbrellas in them? How much better would that have been?

And I can confirm as a genuine 100% fact, that there are some people who I’ve had several meaningful conversations with, but all of them have taken place on the branches of trees. Because when we feel like we’re in a memorable scene, it calls something out of us. Of course we are capable of being fun, or creative, or silly, or deep, or honest regardless of where we are. But the mountains call it out of us. The lake, the trees, the rooftops. Honestly, I believe that if we put the effort in to create scenes in our lives that are unique, and exciting, and beautiful; our souls will rise to the challenge. They will leap at the chance of a moment that is meaningful. And surely the more of those moments, the better.