Assisi12th April
A beautiful morning in Umbria. I slept through and wake feeling good. We clean up and go down for breakfast - but I check the price 'Inklusiv'. Thats good value. The most >I have eaten in three days. Not perfectly comfortable but things are improving. Back to our room and I write up this diary. St. Francis' birds sing gaily outside the window. It's time to go walking.
Into town - throufgh the city wall. somehow I am in lots of emotional pain today - why I can#t really say. Does it come from the fear I experience when I get sick. Or does the lid come off the emotional barrel when I travel?
We wander the beautiful town.All the narrow medieval alley ways in Barcellona were interesting. Here, being on a steepish hillside, there is an extra demension of interest to the patterns formed. We potter around in souvenir shops - buying cards. I find out more about St. Francis.
After some debate we head down to Bascillica di San Francesco. When I see the church I am immediately repelled by it's massive 4-square structure and it's rigid lines and forms. Zita attempts a defense in terms of it's place in church building history. Once inside I chnage my mind completely with the wonderful wall paintings by Giotto - dtailing events in the life of St. Francis.
In the book shop downstairs I buy a book about the Life of St. Francis. A summary brochure about the Franscican order suggests a group that supports a thoughtful and valueable spiritual commitment to world and it's peoples.
We trace a different route back up hill and to the main square. We sit on steps infront of the Santa Chiara church for half an hour just watching, chattinga nd taking it easy. This is a place which encourages this. Next to us is a visiting group of Germans. One member of the group and the group leader\guide are in converstaion about St. Francis' life and beliefs. The group member says that, considering the way of living of St. Francis, and the views he held, if he were alive today he would most likely be in psychiatric care.
We return to our Pension and after a short sketchy conversation with the mother of the family owners, she speaking Italian and Zita fairly basic Spanish, about the best way to get to San Damino. This was the chuch that Francis restored. We take the car. I nearly get hit from the left at a round about. We find a park and walk the 10 minutes down the hill. The small chapel is already full for this Vespers service (7pm) . But Zita leads us inside to sit on the stone floor in the main aisle which is surprisingly comfotable.
There is singing in Italian, kneling, praying, incense, Monks, silence, mainly Italians and Germans. A long period of silence after a short reflection from a Monk. I was moved by the ancientness and rootedness of the service. At the same time my mind wandered. That Bob Dylan song 'You gotta serve somebody' and a line from it goes - 'You can serve the devil or you can serve the Lord'.
During the post reflection silence - a cell phone went off and kept ringing for quite a while. In this event was for me a parable about how the technology that benefits and enhances our lives can also easily seperate us from 'LIFE' - not an original thought - but still an awareness commonly forgotten as technology addiction keeps us preoccupied from ourselves.
Back at the pension, we treat ourselves to dinner. Eating out is always expensive to us so always a treat. We order with little idea what we might get. I end up with tasty ravioli, Zita with an unexpected piece of pork. I read 60 pages from the St. Francis book, write this up and then head for sleep.
I guess my emotional pain today, my fear when ill - is summed up in a phrase in my head at the moment
'Where is the hope?'
A question for all of us I guess. And I am still seraching for an answer.
Into town - throufgh the city wall. somehow I am in lots of emotional pain today - why I can#t really say. Does it come from the fear I experience when I get sick. Or does the lid come off the emotional barrel when I travel?
We wander the beautiful town.All the narrow medieval alley ways in Barcellona were interesting. Here, being on a steepish hillside, there is an extra demension of interest to the patterns formed. We potter around in souvenir shops - buying cards. I find out more about St. Francis.
After some debate we head down to Bascillica di San Francesco. When I see the church I am immediately repelled by it's massive 4-square structure and it's rigid lines and forms. Zita attempts a defense in terms of it's place in church building history. Once inside I chnage my mind completely with the wonderful wall paintings by Giotto - dtailing events in the life of St. Francis.
In the book shop downstairs I buy a book about the Life of St. Francis. A summary brochure about the Franscican order suggests a group that supports a thoughtful and valueable spiritual commitment to world and it's peoples.
We trace a different route back up hill and to the main square. We sit on steps infront of the Santa Chiara church for half an hour just watching, chattinga nd taking it easy. This is a place which encourages this. Next to us is a visiting group of Germans. One member of the group and the group leader\guide are in converstaion about St. Francis' life and beliefs. The group member says that, considering the way of living of St. Francis, and the views he held, if he were alive today he would most likely be in psychiatric care.
We return to our Pension and after a short sketchy conversation with the mother of the family owners, she speaking Italian and Zita fairly basic Spanish, about the best way to get to San Damino. This was the chuch that Francis restored. We take the car. I nearly get hit from the left at a round about. We find a park and walk the 10 minutes down the hill. The small chapel is already full for this Vespers service (7pm) . But Zita leads us inside to sit on the stone floor in the main aisle which is surprisingly comfotable.
There is singing in Italian, kneling, praying, incense, Monks, silence, mainly Italians and Germans. A long period of silence after a short reflection from a Monk. I was moved by the ancientness and rootedness of the service. At the same time my mind wandered. That Bob Dylan song 'You gotta serve somebody' and a line from it goes - 'You can serve the devil or you can serve the Lord'.
During the post reflection silence - a cell phone went off and kept ringing for quite a while. In this event was for me a parable about how the technology that benefits and enhances our lives can also easily seperate us from 'LIFE' - not an original thought - but still an awareness commonly forgotten as technology addiction keeps us preoccupied from ourselves.
Back at the pension, we treat ourselves to dinner. Eating out is always expensive to us so always a treat. We order with little idea what we might get. I end up with tasty ravioli, Zita with an unexpected piece of pork. I read 60 pages from the St. Francis book, write this up and then head for sleep.
I guess my emotional pain today, my fear when ill - is summed up in a phrase in my head at the moment
'Where is the hope?'
A question for all of us I guess. And I am still seraching for an answer.
1 comment:
Thanks for your sharing, it' s very useful
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