To all my dear fellow pilgrims
Backpack
The wind blows where it wishes.
Assisi.
Pilgrims and bells.
Bells and pilgrims, as seven years ago.
The tourists entered the city through a gate in the wall and climbed the steep Gothic alleyways. The square of the basilica, a long narrow street, the village square, a little hill, another narrow street, a step down. Santa Clara, another door in the wall, another narrow alley. He had walked past a movie without realizing that, before, outside a church. He bought a donkey
clay at the show near the square. The villagers were touched with living tissue colors and bargained goods. They were too short, somewhat stern and well settled his feet on the ground as something clean mountain race of merchants. Often passed groups of monks, friars everywhere. An old priest with a cane, tile cobwebs and moth-eaten robe bandanna, gesturing and laughing with the farmers.
He was just a tourist in the land of pilgrims.
went down to San Damiano and was befriended by the monks. Pacific Fray, Fray Junipero, Brother Leo, Brother Maseo, names, too, seven years ago.
"My name Cesco. Full: Francesco Bernardone.
Yes yes, named Gian-Francesco Bernardote and Cesco called him home. No, it was not there. Habíha come out of curiosity to know the country so often her grandfather spoke Italian. There is proposed to rest and study.
-Your name as San Francisco.
'I do not know. I do not know who he is.
The poor of Assisi, our founding father, the knight of Lady Poverty. XIII century, war with Perugia, the paintings of Giotto. Basilicas, Spoleto, the grave. Santa Clara, the nativity of Greccio, Alvernia and stigma. The minstrels, the preaching of the birds, the wolf brother. The larks, doves, song the sun.
Friars took off the word of mouth. Cesco only understood that, once, someone important like you called him and invited him to dinner. Under a noble
groin vault, refectory shadow and smelled like overcooked peas. Long long tables and worn wooden benches, a bouquet of flowers where a day is sit Santa Clara, dirt, chipped dishes, soup and light boiling.
prayed briefly and sat at the table. Scalded himself with the soup. All were silent while a priest read the Bible remained silent as they read something with frequent references to 'our Father San Francisco. " A young monk looked at him and smiled every time he left this name. It seemed that the monks would not listen a lot and paid more attention to the soup, when he had not yet taken the first spoonful, others had already finished. Patiently waiting was over. As he prepared to load the pipe, he rose and recited psalms longer than the first.
They left the garden. Those monks were like children, laughing at anything.
-Your name as San Francisco. You have no choice but to become a monk. Smell
annealed and soup boiling chickpeas for the rest of his life.
Or who knows if anything else.
San Francisco. Convents, crops, the city, birds and even the wind was full of that name. He wanted to know who he was Francisco and read lots and lots of books.
Fuentes, literature, methodological categories. Geographical constraints of the personality of Umbria, board reliefs and depressions, modules hydrographic vocation of soils economic structures XIII Assisi, latent conflicts between complementary economies, the dual function of the structure, movement and population structure and historical dialectic, lobbyists, decadent feudalism, the new bourgeois pressure, foreign markets, agricultural and economic conditions of trade, social levels. This did not explain much of anything. Philosophical and theological categories of the era, medieval humanism, schools, the prenominal, universals, hypostasis and physis, sacrificial Eucharistic presence, Innocent III, endowment, spirituality, the Cathars, Albigenses, the poor of Lyons, Fraticelli , incibatatti , charisma. This explains very little. The sun and the rain, sunsets, olive trees, vineyards and cypresses. Celano, the legend of the three partners, the fioretti , the ticket to Brother Leo the song of the sun, Santa Clara. This does not explain everything.
took the backpack.
had studied the structures of XIII and it was not enough, he had entered the culture of the thirteenth and it was not enough, he felt the spirit of the XIII and the Franciscan was not enough. Was amazed at the ineffable Fioretti San Francisco and it was not enough. This is the hardest step: reach Fioretti and not be pleased and charmed them, nothing more. Take a backpack and walking. In this step, Man is played everything or give or sinks. Because the books are nothing, even Fioretti are nothing, nothing is nothing if not push us to walk. We only true to the truth when the walk and Man is only man when he is able to see what career he demands the truth, small or large, that is, when does not proceed to calibrate, taste and feel the truth is, but the load on their backs and walk with her.
The tourist is one who goes without charge or direction.
Walker's who took the backpack and searches.
The pilgrim is one who, in addition to be loaded and to seek, know kneel when necessary. Cesco
was no longer a tourist, but I could not even pilgrim.
San Damiano the Porziuncola, the Carceri, Fonte Colombo, the Celle, Gubbio, Alvernia, Greccio, Rieti, Perugia, Spoleto.
had begun.
Assisi.
Pilgrims and bells.
Bells and pilgrims, as seven years ago.
The tourists entered the city through a gate in the wall and climbed the steep Gothic alleyways. The square of the basilica, a long narrow street, the village square, a little hill, another narrow street, a step down. Santa Clara, another door in the wall, another narrow alley. He had walked past a movie without realizing that, before, outside a church. He bought a donkey
clay at the show near the square. The villagers were touched with living tissue colors and bargained goods. They were too short, somewhat stern and well settled his feet on the ground as something clean mountain race of merchants. Often passed groups of monks, friars everywhere. An old priest with a cane, tile cobwebs and moth-eaten robe bandanna, gesturing and laughing with the farmers.
He was just a tourist in the land of pilgrims.
went down to San Damiano and was befriended by the monks. Pacific Fray, Fray Junipero, Brother Leo, Brother Maseo, names, too, seven years ago.
"My name Cesco. Full: Francesco Bernardone.
Yes yes, named Gian-Francesco Bernardote and Cesco called him home. No, it was not there. Habíha come out of curiosity to know the country so often her grandfather spoke Italian. There is proposed to rest and study.
-Your name as San Francisco.
'I do not know. I do not know who he is.
The poor of Assisi, our founding father, the knight of Lady Poverty. XIII century, war with Perugia, the paintings of Giotto. Basilicas, Spoleto, the grave. Santa Clara, the nativity of Greccio, Alvernia and stigma. The minstrels, the preaching of the birds, the wolf brother. The larks, doves, song the sun.
Friars took off the word of mouth. Cesco only understood that, once, someone important like you called him and invited him to dinner. Under a noble
groin vault, refectory shadow and smelled like overcooked peas. Long long tables and worn wooden benches, a bouquet of flowers where a day is sit Santa Clara, dirt, chipped dishes, soup and light boiling.
prayed briefly and sat at the table. Scalded himself with the soup. All were silent while a priest read the Bible remained silent as they read something with frequent references to 'our Father San Francisco. " A young monk looked at him and smiled every time he left this name. It seemed that the monks would not listen a lot and paid more attention to the soup, when he had not yet taken the first spoonful, others had already finished. Patiently waiting was over. As he prepared to load the pipe, he rose and recited psalms longer than the first.
They left the garden. Those monks were like children, laughing at anything.
-Your name as San Francisco. You have no choice but to become a monk. Smell
annealed and soup boiling chickpeas for the rest of his life.
Or who knows if anything else.
San Francisco. Convents, crops, the city, birds and even the wind was full of that name. He wanted to know who he was Francisco and read lots and lots of books.
Fuentes, literature, methodological categories. Geographical constraints of the personality of Umbria, board reliefs and depressions, modules hydrographic vocation of soils economic structures XIII Assisi, latent conflicts between complementary economies, the dual function of the structure, movement and population structure and historical dialectic, lobbyists, decadent feudalism, the new bourgeois pressure, foreign markets, agricultural and economic conditions of trade, social levels. This did not explain much of anything. Philosophical and theological categories of the era, medieval humanism, schools, the prenominal, universals, hypostasis and physis, sacrificial Eucharistic presence, Innocent III, endowment, spirituality, the Cathars, Albigenses, the poor of Lyons, Fraticelli , incibatatti , charisma. This explains very little. The sun and the rain, sunsets, olive trees, vineyards and cypresses. Celano, the legend of the three partners, the fioretti , the ticket to Brother Leo the song of the sun, Santa Clara. This does not explain everything.
took the backpack.
had studied the structures of XIII and it was not enough, he had entered the culture of the thirteenth and it was not enough, he felt the spirit of the XIII and the Franciscan was not enough. Was amazed at the ineffable Fioretti San Francisco and it was not enough. This is the hardest step: reach Fioretti and not be pleased and charmed them, nothing more. Take a backpack and walking. In this step, Man is played everything or give or sinks. Because the books are nothing, even Fioretti are nothing, nothing is nothing if not push us to walk. We only true to the truth when the walk and Man is only man when he is able to see what career he demands the truth, small or large, that is, when does not proceed to calibrate, taste and feel the truth is, but the load on their backs and walk with her.
The tourist is one who goes without charge or direction.
Walker's who took the backpack and searches.
The pilgrim is one who, in addition to be loaded and to seek, know kneel when necessary. Cesco
was no longer a tourist, but I could not even pilgrim.
San Damiano the Porziuncola, the Carceri, Fonte Colombo, the Celle, Gubbio, Alvernia, Greccio, Rieti, Perugia, Spoleto.
had begun.
From: Ballarin JM, Francesco , Salamanca, Follow Me, 1975. pp. 25-28.
