Assisi on My Mind

Yesterday, there was sunshine and warmth all day.  The sky was blue and our outdoor fitness class was pure joy underneath that gorgeous top of cloudless perfection. The rest of the day progressed in sunshine and as we drove off on our way to one of our favorite beach walks, we passed through our condo property and onto what, in other times, would be a busy Main Street.  Driving along the route, we realized a sense of peace and tranquility, one that reminded us of the atmosphere in Assisi during the non-tourist months.  We carefully avoid the other travel months, knowing that we will not have the same experiences when the streets become clogged with people who are simply there to check off the box.  Ahhh, we said, this is the way it should be. This is why we chose to live here on beautiful Cape Cod and this is how it should always be. Sadly, when the Virus has finally given up its foothold, I suspect a return to most of that "other" life.

While we look forward to the end of the nightmare, we have made a conscious decision, like so many others, to live in the present, knowing that we simply have no other choice. But, our days in the city of Peace and Love have imprinted us.  We can easily take a deep cleansing breath and find ourselves in the early morning light of the home of St. Francis.  Our minds drift and we're bathed in the warmth of a bliss that has to be experienced in order to be fully understood.

So, during these hard, hard days, we keep going back to Assisi.  We drift through the beloved town and we see the faces of our friends, we feel the warmth of the embraces, we hear their kind words and we make a promise together that one day, as soon as we can, we will physically rejoin all of that and have a celebration to end all.  For now, we enjoy peace, stillness, harmony with nature and good will.

Months spent in Assisi, it turns out, were investments in the future.  We studied in a classroom, we had great teachers.  Little did we ever know that one day, we would draw upon all that we learned and we would see light on a landscape of darkness and hope in Spring flowers and the sound of birds.

And, a tiny little side note.....our Italian language skills should be so much better when we do return.
Being at home does have its advantages.  Home-school Italian Lessons!!

A Walk Up the Hill

The rustic road that leads into the Eremo.  Silence begins here.

The Tau, last letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Reminded Francis of the Cross and has become his symbol.

Yesterday morning was absolutely gorgeous.  After a week, my body and brain are finally feeling "normal". A perfect time to take the two mile walk up to one of the most beautiful places I know, the Eremo dell Carceri.  "Eremo" translates to "Hermitage" and "Carceri" comes from the Latin, meaning "islolated places; prisons".

The road up to the Eremo starts at the Porta Cappuccini, one of the many entrances to the city. After passing under, I chose the paved road and passed in between groves of olive trees.  This is the harvest time, the season for picking olives and transforming them into liquid gold.  Along the way, there were several racollte in progress (think little groups of people), performing the ancient custom of shaking the fruit out of the trees, getting ready to head out to the frantoio (think olive mill).

Two hours later, I reached my destination, the entrance to the place where St Francis came to pray and where his followers established their first home.  The entrance way signs remind visitors that this is not an amusement park, that picnicking is prohibited, and that silence would be very much appreciated.  This is sacred space, and has been since 1205 when Francis first arrived.  At the time, the only building was a 12th Century oratory.  He lived alone, in a cold cave, on the side of Mt. Subasio.  Soon after, other men followed him to the mountain, finding their own isolated caves in which to hang out and pray.

In 1215, the site was given to the Benedictines and remains as a small monastery.

It was the perfect time and place.  The evening before, Joe called and delivered the sad news that our friend Steve died suddenly on Monday morning.  I felt frustrated and helpless, unable to comfort my dear friend Nina.  Her loss is profound.  Steve was in her life for a short but sweet time and his death, tragic.  All I could do is pray for both of them and, leaving behind a crudely structured version of a cross, laid at an outdoor altar, I prayed again on the walk back down.