Steady in Its Rhythm

 Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, translated from the French, is the final day of feasting before Lent. Lent is a forty-day season in the Christian tradition devoted to prayer, fasting, and reflection in preparation for Easter.

The Mardi Gras tradition took shape in medieval Europe, with roots in Ancient Rome, and was brought to North America by French settlers in the 1700s. It eventually found its true home in New Orleans. The first organized parades began in the 1800s, and that is when Mardi Gras truly gained popularity. Private social clubs, known as krewes, formed to plan elaborate parades and elegant balls. Colors, costumes, and intricate floats became central to the celebration. Beads often featured symbols from ancient myths and classic literature, linking the celebration to timeless stories. King cakes, baked with small plastic babies, became a symbol of good luck.

Beyond the spectacle, Mardi Gras plays an important role in strengthening community bonds and supporting the local economy. After Hurricane Katrina, it became a beacon of hope during recovery, a symbol of resilience, rebirth, and unity. Mardi Gras remains beloved and enduring. Bad weather, hard times, even tragedy cannot stop it. It endures.

I took a stroll down by the river after breakfast and sat there for a while.

It is impossible to understand New Orleans without understanding the Mississippi River. The city does not just sit beside it. It exists because of it. The port, culture, trade, and daily rhythms have all been shaped by that constant presence beyond the French Quarter. For centuries, the river has dictated the pace and possibility of the city. Goods flowed through it. Music and culture traveled along it. Neighborhoods developed in response to it. It is not background scenery. It is history and identity all at once.

Unlike the sensory chaos of Mardi Gras, the Mississippi offers something very different: consistency. It moves whether you acknowledge it or not. It flows whether you are celebrating, recovering, or standing still. That consistency is especially noticeable the morning after Mardi Gras, when the noise fades, the city exhales, and the river continues exactly as it always has, strong, constant, and indifferent.

Standing by the river, thinking of the intensity of Mardi Gras, the contrast is clear. Mardi Gras teaches you to surrender to spontaneity and the river teaches you to yield to the flow of time. One overwhelms you with sensation; the other reminds you of continuity.

You cannot stop the current of the Mississippi. You can only decide how to stand beside it, watch it, and move with it. After the overstimulation of Mardi Gras, the river is quiet and still moving. The river carries on, steady in its rhythm, unbroken, and in our own way, we all must do the same.

Best beignets at Loretta's. Praline-filled on the left. Crab-filled on the right. Wow.