If you look really hard you can see the red hat. The top windows on the building are mine.
December 8 on the Roman Catholic Church calendar is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. It is celebrated in a big way here in Florence, and I’m sure, in all of Italy. As I passed the Duomo this morning at 10 AM. I was witness to a procession of priest and two, yes two, cardinals because I saw two red hats. They came out of the church and turned a few paces to bless the nativity scene already assembled with all the cast of characters beginning to assemble. When dark comes this evening, the big Christmas tree nearby will be lit and Advent will have burst forth.
If you look really hard you can see the red hat. The top windows on the building are mine.
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When I read the headlines this morning my heart sank with the possibility that we could be at war in the near future. To get out of my funk, I decided to take a walk for peace. I crossed the Arno, entered the Bardini and Boboli Gardens, and took pictures along the way; some showed the vibrant December afternoon sun, others were rather dark and foreboding, and one depicted human beings at their worst. All along my walk Brunelleschi’s dome kept appearing, a harbinger of stability, commitment and truth. No one knew that I was walking for peace, but maybe they sensed something hopeful. I wonder if I passed anyone with the same intention? I hope so, and I’m foolishly hopeful enough to believe it could true.
Here I am; my first full day in Firenze, my third visit here this year. I’m doing what I can to create a special, different mood this time, although I don’t even have the words for what I’m longing for. ‘Special’ and ‘different’ touch on it but I have no idea what they mean. Last night I ate at Fa Fa, my go-to first night restaurant and had my customary crostini misti and chicken with truffle sauce and roasted potatoes. I’ve walked my usual routes, taken my usual photos, and enjoyed my usual breakfast of cappuccino and brioche at one of my go-to cafes. Nothing special or different there. My mind, body, spirit is open to the special and different, although I don’t believe it will appear in any radical way. Rather, I sense it will embrace being present to the moment, which is not a new idea for me, but one that is difficult to hold on to for more than a moment. Hmm, that ought to be easy: one moment after another. Two days and I’ll be in the air to Florence, making a quick stop at Charles de Gaulle airport, before landing at Aeroporto di Firenze-Peretola early Monday afternoon. Every time I return to Florence I wonder if I will step into my comfortable, predictable routine, drinking coffee, writing, visiting museums and churches and walking around with God, and that will be that—a marvelous trip. Or, will some new, significant insight take over, some epiphany about life. I’m open to it and sense a shift. This visit feels different. My friend Karen has moved to Morocco. Other than lunch with my niece’s daughter study in Florence, I’ll be experiencing two weeks of anonymity. Stay tuned. |
Contact me: bobbifisher.mac@mac.com
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