Despite all these years in MSIA I’m still shocked by my multi-dimensionality and the speed with which I can shift consciousness. Yesterday I was a Florentine artist bursting with creative energy and intemperately spawning imagery, and today I’m silently strolling through the forests and grottos of Assisi, wondering why anyone would want to disturb their tranquility by creating images of what is already at rest in perfection.
I do have to slow down occasionally and remind myself not to get excited by some potential photo that I see unfolding in front of me, and all the future photos that are racing each other to inundate me. But the fact that I’m reminding myself instead of losing myself in sensory agitation and the intoxication of worldly accomplishment means that I have an above-the-body perspective coming in that is remembering me into the higher Light.
Our buses deposit us in Assisi where vans will take us to the Hermitage (the Eremo delle Carceri), the beautiful forest retreat where St. Francis and his band of monks hung out. While waiting for the vans John does a mini-seminar and blessing in the parking area. It slows everything down and puts the busy day into a larger, more sweeping perspective, as John always seems to do. He’s a walking pool of calm, a kind of souvenir sent back from a distant celestial land that evokes memories of its holiness.
It’s the ideal preparation for the Hermitage. While waiting for the vans our group starts singing “Maranatha,” which was taught to us by Father Max, a Franciscan priest who guided our group in Assisi many years ago on the PAT IV trips, and who everyone on those trips fell in love with. Then the vans arrive to whisk us up the switchbacked roads to the Hermitage.
The Hermitage is built on a forested hillside overlooking Assisi. There are small buildings with caves where the monks lived and practiced. You descend into the caves down winding stone steps, squeezing and ducking through passageways designed for medieval body size. We’re greeted by Father Matteo, who tells us stories of St. Francis’ life, full of deep insights on how St. Francis fit into his times and how he really lived the spirit-filled life that he preached.
The music of silence pervades the Hermitage, and I can feel the soothing quiet of all the pilgrims who have walked those wooded paths. It’s a welcome change from the crowds in Florence. I feel vulnerable, receptive and pliable, like I’ve been turned inside out, and the smells of the forest melt with the light coming through the leaves to create a sensory balm. Everyone in our group seems slowed down, and the frantic bathroom searches, pizza quests and caffeinated frivolity of the last week of travel feel like faraway flashbacks of a troubled adolescence.
Then it’s back to the hillside hotel. Our room has an expansive view of the valley below Assisi, and the sunset shots are taken from the balcony.
