Space. Time. Continue.

Holy Jubilee!

I spent my half-term break in Rome, for the Holy Jubilee.

It was exciting to have been in a moment that happens once every 25 years. 

“To see something is to not have seen something else.”

“To have lived something is to not have lived something else.” 

I have seen once-in-a-lifetime comets with my dad,

The Passionsspiel in Oberammergau, once every 10 years.

now a week in Rome walking through Holy Doors only open once every 25 years.

I reflect on that trip today, Ash Wednesday. 

“We rise again from ashes, from the good we’ve failed to do.” 

While I was in Vatican City, each day more people arrived in the piazza to be together as ones of the faithful. 

There's an emotionally big deal about those doors, once sealed with bricks and mortar, glass cases, and roped off that become unsealed and opened to new opportunities. 

Considering my recent missed-moment [last blog post] I really feel kicked in the ankles to get on with these Carpe Diem situations, remembering these Carpe Diem curiosites were the reason I quit my job, sold my house, and moved 1/3 across the globe. I made the appropriate choice [on that evening] but the “Take No Thought of Tomorrow” curiosity lingers, becoming Alice selecting "drink me" not "eat me" and is sorting out another logic puzzle, dodging Roman Raindrops on the B line metro going to a mandolin lesson.   

Legend says you're called to walk the Camino de Santiago, to search for yourself. 

The Camino makes space for you at the time you need to go. 

Legend continues that the space made for you becomes space inside you, maybe not immediately but eventually. 

Being one for legends, I agree. 

Camino or Jubilee, I feel space. 

I feel like I can breathe again. 

Solid breaths of fresh air. 

Nothing confusing or unclear. 

My head is calm, mind is quiet. 

Everything makes sense.

Camino or Jubilee, things feel simpler. 

I want less. 

I want uncluttered.

There's a thin line between spontaneous and directionless living. 

Most days I feel as if I’m standing at intersections of directionless moments. 

Airfare sale? Book it. Doesn't matter where.

Concert? Yes, please. 

Beach day? Car is packed. 

Budget? It always works out by the 23rd.

But isn’t that life - making sense of the directionless logic puzzles? 

While I hope to see the next Jubilee, from a terrazzo of my own, I am booked for another trek on The Camino this summer. 

To seize this day, I put my memory at Cafe San Pietro, a caffe on Via della Conciliazione, watching the Carabinieri ticketing and towing Fiats. 

“We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts,

The gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt

Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view

an offering of ashes, an offering to you.”

[Ashes, Tom Conry]

If all the world is ashes, then must our lives be true. 

Happy Ash Wednesday. 

Sláinte.

Madrid says hello, if you were inquiring.