It was a rather noisy beginning today—the renovation of the room above me started. I said, to myself, “Self, you need to do penance, so just endure,” but then my selfish self said, “Nope. Not while on vacation!” So, I did something very much unlike me, I asked for a new room. The staff was kind and understanding and understood that I can do penance when I return home, and gave me a new room. Very nice.
Once settled, I did something unusual for someone who is about 5,000 miles from home, I spent the day writing. The mind took an amazing journey and I put down many words (even ran out of ink in my pen and had to go in search of a new one!)
I do believe the next vaca will be a writing retreat. We shall see. The story (have I already mentioned this) is Execution Day. It will be a part of a collection of short stories—nothing like I’ve written/published before—titled Seven Deadly. At this point, they are all a bit weird, but too much fun to write. I’m always killin’ off somebody!
At about 7:30 p.m., I realized that I had only a light breakfast to eat and went in search of ramen. The ones near by were closed, but I found “Asian Soul” and had some delicious Thai food and beer… I think the second beer was actually from China.
Fried shrimp cakes with an onion, garlic, and pepper pickled for dipping.Shrimp in green curry, toned down for me. Perfect amount of spice and so very good.
During and afterward, I stopped to take a few pictures. This first one is called “The Ordinary in Light” (doesn’t he think he is the artiste giving his pictures names!)
On the way back to the hotel, I saw the light playing off the buildings and…
And from the balcony of the new room (sorry, brother, no more garden)…
Tomorrow will be a bit busier. Following breakfast, I will make my way to Adikt Ink where Matteo will give my new adult “sticker.” Something to remember this journey by and inspired by Joan, my hero in Rouen, France. Afterward, I will visit a local bookstore where I can find a Stephen King in some language other than English (I won’t be able to read it, but other than the new “sticker” it will be one of my few souvenirs. FYI: the exchange rate is miserable, so I’ve done little to no shopping.
During my occasional scroll today, I came across this from Fyodor Dostoevsky: “From the outside, you seem mature with a philosopher’s mind. But inside, you’re just a child lost in a sweet delusion.” Don’t be afraid to be a child. They are always curious and poking their little noses in all sorts of interesting places. Along the way, someone is bound to tell you “No!” or “It’s not possible!” Don’t you believe it. Even a sixty-one year old child is finding out those sweet delusions can, in fact, be reality.
May you have a blessed day, may your Grand Marnier always be a long pour, and may Our Lord and God bless you immensely. He does love all His silly children.
For those curious about The Queen, she apparently has a new favorite game at The Cat Resort…
Yesterday was a much easier day of travel from Rouen to Luxembourg—took the train. We did not crash into any buildings.
After so many days of going, I took the day off. My only reason for getting up and dressed was breakfast and phone charger—I forgot to bring my converter for the outlets. The other hotels had USB ports, but this one did not. Glad to have brought my battery pack to charge the phone last night.
After returning to the hotel, I did the only logical thing: took a nap. Then got up and worked on a short story, Execution Day, which I hope will be part of a collection of short stories that I’ve been working on—Seven Deadly—although there will be more than seven stories, and they will not all be too deadly.
At one point, as I sat here in my PJs and writing, I got a bit chilly. I do not have a robe or slippers with me, so did the best I could. The result: me sitting in my PJs, wearing my overcoat (which I’m very glad I brought) and my hiking boots.
Selfie Stick and timer set on phone + mad dash to strike the pose.
After such hard work, it was time for some food. I went for something completely different and will likely be sitting up in bed all night because my white-bread American stomach doesn’t handle spicy food too well, but it was so very good.
The meal…
I had no idea what I was ordering, so relied on my very kind host to help me out. I had at first wanted to attempt one other dish, but it had three 🌶️🌶️🌶️ beside it. My host said it wasn’t possible to make it milder, so we agreed on a dish with 🌶️🌶️, and he said he could get it down to 🌶️. It was perfect! Timmuri with Sichuan pepper, onion, ginger, garlic, and Nepali spice. I added some lamb to get a bit extra. The nan was with garlic. He had me first try the Cobra beer from India (after getting it, I remembered that I had it once before in Lisbon) and then he said I must try a Nepalese beer… excellent. Much more carbonation and natural taste.
This is just an American talking here, but… it seems that when you eat out in various countries, if you eat at a “local” restaurant, you’ll likely get good food, but the attitude that comes with it really puts me off—they’re doing you a favor by deigning to have you seated in their establishment. However, if you choose an ethnic restaurant, well, like you, they are the foreigners. They know what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land and so, to me, they are so much kinder and helpful. Look, I willingly admit, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and I sure as heck don’t know what I’m ordering, so when you ask, “What do you recommend?” the locals will roll their eyes, but the foreigners like you will smile and be so very helpful. Something about it in Leviticus (perhaps 19:33-34) but I won’t get preachy.
There is a park behind my hotel that I can see from the window…
…so on the way, in an attempt to walk off some of that meal, I took a stroll. Beautiful flowers that my brother would be disgusted with me if I didn’t stop and smell. So, for the brother…
And don’t forgetting be the babbling fountain:
As I stood next to the water, these two came cruising by…
The last two days have been the most relaxing of the expedition (although I’ve loved it all—except maybe for the long bus trip, but I did get to see the Eiffel Tower and I was in Paris), and on several occasions, I have caught myself smiling for no dang reason at all. Those around me probably think they have a crazy person on their hands, but… No… just me. It is a good feeing to smile for no reason at all.
I think I’ll work on my short story for a bit longer, then do some reading. I’m very much into Haruki Murakami these days and have been working through 1Q84, which is delightfully Murakami.
My days may be off, but we are seeing the world. I hope this post is more than a photo dump like the other day, but… I’ve experienced so much. Let’s see what happens…
Yesterday was a travel day extraordinaire! Twelve hours from point A to point B. One of those hours was stupidity on my part in not knowing how to read my ticket, the other eleven hours were automobiles and buses (two of them to be exact). The first half of the trip was good, but when I hit Paris — OY! Note to self: when reading your bus ticket, don’t look for destination—look for bus number. I was probably standing directly next to my outbound bus for thirty minutes, but the board never said, “Rouen.” Instead, it said the next stop (whatever that was), and I missed it. Had to purchase a new ticket for the next bus. Dang near missed that one as well until I realized my mistake.
There was a fun sight along the way:
Paris traffic was c.r.a.z.y. and the bus driver headed down the wrong street twice and had to back up! but I finally arrived (two hours later than planned) in Rouen, France. Life is good! I’m in France for Pete sake! (Sorry, “Pierre sake!) The fella checking me in at the hotel was VERY French in attitude, but I smiled. It was dark, but I decided to see what I could see. It was so worth the 12 hours of traveling. I came around a corner… I don’t know that a tear ran down my cheek, but it was a close call.
This morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to see what the city offered, but I did have one destination in mind. First things first, though… I went back to the cathedral to see the inside, but no sooner had I arrived and they were ushering us all out. What? Turns out, Mass was about to begin. Well, my Anglican friends, I kept my mouth shut and had a seat. What a surprise and blessing for me: from my Facebook post… “When your heathen soul gets lucky and you show up on time to attend mass with the Archbishop of Rouen and Primate of Normandy, Monseigneur Dominique Lebrun. Second photo from web.”
At this point I was feeling good. I continued with my tour, seeing what I could see. Only problem: so much of what I wanted to see was behind locked gates and I wasn’t allowed to get close. Just you wait! My first time through the 12-century gothic Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen.
1000 years in the weather has done much damage to everything. They are working on the restoration, but it is a slow process. St. James: notice the shell on his cap. Having walked a portion of the Camino de Santiago, that shell is like a secret sign and your eye is immediately drawn to it. I stopped dead in the middle of a street later in the day. I’ll show you that in a minute.I would like to say that It was Jesus who caught my attention in this picture, but it was that red hair. I don’t know what that says about me. I haven’t identified the artist.
We’ll be back at 2:30 p.m. but for now, I headed to my next destination—and the point of coming to Rouen to begin with—the place where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.
Friends, Joan of Arc has been a hero of mine forever. This was on the list of places to visit from the first time I came to Europe. It was simple, noisy, dirty, smelly, drunks being loud, people oblivious, none of it mattered… I pulled out my small rosary and rubbed it in the dirt of this place.
I came back later in the day and found the spot with the sun directly behind the marker.
The small Joan of Arc medal on my rosary that came home to her ashes…
Sitting here shaking my head… don’t know how to explain.
I stopped and had some lunch, seafood, then made my way back to the cathedral. I had read somewhere that there is a tour that begins at 2:30 on Saturday. It is not posted anywhere or publicized. Show up and join in. I did. For the next three hours, I visited the parts of the cathedral I wasn’t allowed to get close to and parts I didn’t even know existed! Amazing. There were only ten of us on the tour. Did I mention it was all in French? I didn’t understand a word said, but it was absolutely fascinating.
The Baptistry…
It was all I could do not to straighten that candle!
The Joan of Arc side chapel…
Chapelle de la Vierge (Chapel of the Virgin)…
St. George… “Kill the dragon!!”
And I haven’t forgotten…
Some of you may remember this photo…
It was taken in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, the starting point of the Camino de Santiago in 2024. Well, today, as I was walking along, I came across this…
The Camino is not done with me. It keeps calling in the most remarkable ways. Just wait until this October! I’m still blown away by this development, but that’s later. For now… Yeah… “Buen Camino!” Mine continues! God is good.
My day and my life. It was and is a good one. Tomorrow, is another travel day. Back to Luxembourg. There are some places I want to see and I’m planning on a couple of “vacation” days where I look out the window of my hotel room, read my book, sip some wine, and not worry about the world too much.
I’ll be honest, there are only so many landscapes and portraits that will remain interesting to me, and this place had its share, but there are several pieces of religious art (of course!) that got my attention. The pictures may be at weird angles or I’m only showing detail shots because the lighting in the museum was odd and there was a lot of glare.
First up is The Annunciation by Peter Paul Rubens.
Rubens’ work emphasises both the sacred and secular nature of the event. Gabriel is accompanied by a ray of divine light and two plump putti, the latter of whom shower Mary with petals. Mary receives the message in a domestic interior. The vase of flowers on the table, the sewing basket and the sleeping cat all enhance the intimate atmosphere. Rubens began this canvas in 1610. That he did not complete it until much later has been deduced from certain stylistic details such as the use of light and space and the overall dynamism of the scane. Rubens sold the painting to the Marquis of Leganés during a diplomatic visit to the spanish court in Madrid in 1628. The latter gave it a place in his private chapel.
Honestly, I think the cat wanders from one painting to the next, as I saw it again in The Supper at Emmaus by Jean-Baptiste de Champaigne.
There’s actually an interesting history of cats in art. Definitely worth a bit more research.
Next up is The Calling of St. Matthew by Marinus van Reymerswale. I’m quite certain you know why this one was selected. (Hint: I serve as priest at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church.) It is clear from the painting, even with all the hustle and bustle going on around him, Matthew only has eyes for Jesus.
Next was a very large Last Judgment scene by Raphaël Coxcie, reminiscent of and compared to the Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel (not a favorable comparison). It caught my eye because of the subject, but then there was this one little detail that got me to sit down and think. I’ve circled it below.
Perhaps the closeup will show my interest…
The painting was originally placed in the courtroom at the town hall in Ghent (apparently, many courtrooms held similar paintings of the Last Judgment as a reminder to the punishments in store for a life of crime—should we post more of these?) Question: Is the woman holding up a small mirror? The image in the mirror isn’t clear, so it could be anyone. Was Coxcie asking, “Do you see yourself? Will you end up here with us?” I stopped to consider that and prayed that I would be one of those on the left side of the canvas being called up to Paradise. Not related at all—for the Stephen King fans out there—doesn’t the image in the mirror look like Pennywise? I suppose they’ll float down there for sure!
Shut up, John, and show us some more pictures. Okay.
Detail photo of Interior of St. Peter’s Church in Rome by Wilhelm Schubert van Ehrenberg:
Detail of The Crypt of the San Martino ai Monti Basilica in Rome by François-Marius Granet:
Saint Sebastian released by the Roman widow Irene and her servant by Melchior de la Mars:
Interesting Saint fact: Although most frequently depicted as being shot by arrows, St. Sebastian survived this initial attempt at martyrdom. He was nursed back to health by Irene, but later would be clubbed to death under the orders of Emperor Diocletian (not a very nice guy.)
Finally, my favorite in the museum: Mary Magdalene by Alfred Stevens:
Early in her career, star actress Sarah Bernhardt meets the Belgian painter Alfred Stevens. As the painter par excellence of Parisian high society, he introduces Bernhardt to painting. It is the beginning of a close friendship. She takes lessons in his painting class for women and models for several portraits. Stevens may also have been inspired by Bernhardt’s captivating gaze for this painting of Mary Magdalene. The skull and the desolate landscape in the background reflect the theme of the converted sinner who withdraws from public life, becoming a hermit. Typical of Stevens’ approach is the sensuality and melancholic gaze with which Mary Magdalene looks at the viewer. This obscures the religious meaning of the remorseful penitent, which shocked the general public at the time.
You be the judge: a young Sarah Bernhardt. She was Jewish, but early in her life, she wanted to become a nun.
On my way back to the hotel, I saw where the Good Lord was creating His own art. Spring is springing in Belgium
Tomorrow is a travel day. I’m off to Rouen, France to see Joan of Arc. If you ever decide to travel to Ghent, I highly recommend picking up a CityCard Ghent (available at many places). You can get a 48- or 72-hour card. At first, the price seems high, but I got my money’s worth yesterday. It covers all public transportation, museums, water taxis, and many other places, if not completely, a large percentage. For example, I paid €49 for a 48 hour card. I took 12 bus rides yesterday. At €3/ride… yeah. Plus, all you have to do is show it to the driver and you’re good to go.
I’ll probably have a few travel pictures tomorrow, but will definitely see you in Rouen!
What a day and what a long one. Tonight, I want to get some pictures out, but there won’t be as much commentary… or we’ll see what happens. I did a lot of walking, and I saw so many amazing things, so let’s take a look. Warning: this is essentially an unedited photo dump.
I sort of learned how to navigate the public transportation in Japan, so I didn’t feel too intimidated here. I jumped on and after a 30 minute bus ride with one transfer, I easily made my way to the old city and Gravensteen Castle. It dates from 1180 and the current restoration took place between 1893 and 1903. There are multiple spiral staircases, but I managed without too much huffing and puffing.
If you need a bit of medieval armory, they have some very interesting pieces. The one sword is about six feet long. Good luck swinging that!
Later in the day, I took a scenic boat tour. This is the view of the castle from the boat:
Then I walked and enjoyed some of the sights of the old city:
I then entered the Church of St. Nicholas. The day was cool, but the temperature dropped at least ten degrees as I entered… not that my poor heathen soul was the reason for the decrease.
One of the “artistic” shots of the day…
And then, I was at St. Bavo’s Cathedral. I hadn’t planned on it, in fact, I have a ticket for tomorrow, but then… when in Ghent! The pictures do no justice to the Ghent Altarpiece and the Mystical Lamb. I bought a book and will happily show it to you. Truly magnificent!
And now for something completely different! Graffiti Alley… this narrow alleyway is covered from floor to ceiling in graffiti. There is only one shop along the way, and they serve an exceptional espresso and make the most decadent chocolate treats—mine was a cookie filled with raspberry cream and covered with dark chocolate. Yeah… I ate it all.
At this stage, the dogs were barking, and I was ready for a sit-down, although not quite ready to return to the hotel. A fifty-minute canal tour proved to be just the ticket.
The tour guide—who could jump from English, French, German, and Flemish without skipping a beat—actually took his hands off the wheel and took the same picture above. Said it was his favorite view and this was the most beautiful he had ever seen it. I thought I had better do the same.
That is all the photos for now. I returned to the hotel, had a nice cold Belgian beer…
…and worked on that short story for the Writing Battle. Perhaps I shouldn’t be drinking beer while writing, because it has taken a turn for the more-weird-than-usual, but it is fun. Tomorrow is museum day. I’ll try to do more writing with the post but I do hope you enjoy today’s pictures. They truly do none of this beautiful city justice.
I left the house about 3 p.m. Sunday. I arrived at my hotel in Luxembourg around 9 p.m. on Monday. There is a seven-hour time difference, so it comes to about 23 hours travel time with no sleep (question for the solo-travelers: how do you sleep on a plane? I just can’t seem to fall asleep. Exhausted, but awake.) After arriving at the NH Luxembourg Hotel, I took a nice hot shower, had a lovely glass of wine, and then crawled in for about 9 hours. A good night’s rest for sure.
Today, I moved slowly, but was on the train to Ghent, Belgium at 10:11 a.m. after a nice breakfast at the hotel.
Journaling on the train…
Arrived in Ghent after missing my !!six-minute!! transfer at the Brussels-Nord station. It was okay, another train came along in 11 minutes and I was off again.
After getting to my room, I came back down to the lobby of the Residence Inn by Marriott Ghent (a lovely hotel with very kind and helpful staff) and did the one thing you’re supposed to do while in Belgium…
And, yes, I’m at the White Rabbit bar.
I have two full days here and the agenda is beautifully packed. More to come. This evening, after a nap—the beer was good and, yes, I did have two—I’ll be working on my short story for the Writing Battle. You are given three images and five days to write a 2,500-word short story. My three images…
My inspiration for the story (I referenced it in a sermon a while back) is from…
Darkness
By Lord Byron
I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings—the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d, And men were gather’d round their blazing homes To look once more into each other’s face; Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch: A fearful hope was all the world contain’d; Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black. The brows of men by the despairing light Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The flashes fell upon them; some lay down And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up With mad disquietude on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses cast them down upon the dust, And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d And twin’d themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food. And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again: a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was death Immediate and inglorious; and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails—men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meagre by the meagre were devour’d, Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand Which answer’d not with a caress—he died. The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies: they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they rak’d up, And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend. The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless— A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d They slept on the abyss without a surge— The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before; The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
The brother and I had the opportunity to do a bit of exploring around Charlotte, North Carolina.
A happy discovery and one we came upon by accident was the Belmont Abbey College.
Mission and Vision from the website…
Belmont Abbey College educates students in the liberal arts and sciences so that in all things God may be glorified. We are guided by the Catholic intellectual tradition and rooted in the Benedictine hallmarks. Both inside and outside the classroom, we provide programs that foster virtue and excellence, which is another reason why we stand among the top Catholic colleges in the country.
There was an event taking place on campus but we did get to go into the sanctuary and tour parts of the campus (including the inside of the bookstore!) Tap the image to enlarge.
We then made our way to the Daniel Stowe (textile magnate) Botanical Garden, consisting of 380 acres of trails, gardens, fountains, shops, and the William Conservatory, housing a collection of orchids and tropical plants.
There was a fun fountain where we took time for a selfie and a mad dash. I got rather wet but it was refreshing.
Then to see the orchids.
Chocolate OrchidDancing Lady OrchidArthurara Sea Snake Orchid (I immediately thought of the bugs in Starship Troopers!)StickpeaVariety of Moth OrchidsHappy little Daffodil
A nice adventure and great to visit with the brother for a day.
I saw in my previous post that I provided a description, but failed to insert the picture. In case you were interested….
Richard Westall’s The Sword of Damocles. The story behind the painting:
The “sword of Damocles” refers to a situation where a person lives under the constant threat of an impending disaster or harm. The idiom comes from an ancient Greek anecdote where a sycophantic courtier named Damocles, who envied the powerful life of King Dionysius II, was offered to trade places with the king for a day. Damocles found himself in the king’s seat, enjoying the luxury, only to look up and see a sharp sword hanging precariously above his head by a single strand of horsehair, symbolizing the ever-present danger and anxiety that comes with power and fortune.
It all started out with The Queen giving me the stink eye, because she saw the suitcase and that always means trouble, in her pointy little head’s opinion. After the final treat, I headed to OKC and caught my first flight to Atlanta. I remember Drew always referring to it as “Hotlanta.” Somewhere I saw a sign… several years back… that said, Nobody calls it that. We did.
Spent an hour and a few dollars in the Braves Bar during the layover before taking off for RDU–The Raleigh/Durham airport.
That evening, my brother and I spent hours outside talking and drinking. He was hanging something fierce the following day (the whiskey was good but perhaps a tad too much), so we lay low and just hung out.
Truly a very nice evening. We haven’t talked like that since we were kids, and I suppose that is a good thing.
Hangover and a Papilio glaucus
We spent the day just resting and enjoying being outdoors in the beautiful weather. There are several very fat mosquitoes around his house. I had no idea they were feeding on me until the following day. Ate my ass up! After a bit, the brother felt well enough to move around long enough to go to the grocery store. I picked up the fixin’s for a nice chicken curry. When I started to put it together, we discovered that they had no curry powder; however, they had all the ingredients to make their own curry powder… very tasty.
The butterfly was beautiful.
Duke
On this day, we went to Duke University, where my brother received his PhD. A beautiful campus and very rich. I bought a flimsy t-shirt and thought it would cost about $20. Turns out… $56! Almost told the girl she could keep it, but came home with it anyhow. Glad I did.
At the top of my list was the University Chapel. Yeah, they call that a chapel. Truly stunning and I would like to have heard that organ play.
We went to lunch in the refectory at the School of Theology. Should have taken a picture, but had Zimbabwean Beef Stew, Fufu (a doughy African bread used for scooping food), and a curry cabbage dish. Everything was excellent. Afterward, we went over to one of the many libraries, where I saw an exhibit on Indigenous Peoples’ Graphic Novels/Comics.
Had to send several pictures to my friend, Faith. There were several pieces on The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW).
The interesting thing about the exhibit was to see the evolution of the portrayal of Indigenous People in the graphic novels/comics. From Scalphunter to Superhero…
That evening, the brother fixed us all a steak dinner, and I had the opportunity to finally begin to know my sister-in-law, Tori. So great. The conversation was very wide-ranging, and before it was over, I had ordered a specific translation of Dante’s Inferno. Definitely looking forward to the read. I have shied away from it in the past because I did not understand all the historical references to persons and places. Tori says that it is not necessary. Seems it is a bit like Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum–read and enjoy the larger story without getting too bogged down in the details.
Saturday with Mark and Tori
Tori had a meeting with their Quaker group, so Mark and I eased into the day. When we got moving, we headed to the University of North Carolina. Mark’s official title and position: MARK TOLES, PHD, RN, FAAN Professor; Beerstecher-Blackwell Distinguished Term Scholar & Senior Division Chair, Health Systems, Policy and Leadership Innovations. He’s pretty much got his act together.
We began the day at UNC’s botanical garden. Way too many pictures to post here, but it was beautiful, even though late in the season.
Bald CypressTithonia
Also in the garden was the cabin of Paul Green. I knew nothing about him, but I very much enjoyed seeing him. According to Wikipedia:
Paul Eliot Green (March 17, 1894 – May 4, 1981) was an American playwright whose work includes historical dramas of life in North Carolina during the first decades of the twentieth century. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for his 1927 play, In Abraham’s Bosom, which was included in Burns Mantle’s The Best Plays of 1926-1927.
His play The Lost Colony has been regularly produced since 1937 near Manteo, North Carolina, and the historic colony of Roanoke. Its success has resulted in numerous other historical outdoor dramas being produced; his work is still the longest-running.
The plaque behind the desk reads:
WHAT IS THE SOUL OF MAN?
I WALK THROUGH THE WOODS, AND I WALK THROUGH THE HILLS, AND I ASK YOU TO TELL ME IF YOU CAN – YOU KNOW WHAT A TREE IS, YOU KNOW WHAT A ROCK IS, BUT WHAT IS THE SOUL OF MAN?
I SEARCHED THE BROAD EARTH, I BEGGED THE FAR SKY, I QUESTIONED THE RIVERS THAT RAN, BUT NEVER A WHISPER TO TELL THAT THEY KNEW AUGHT OF THE SOUL OF MAN.
I BOWED DOWN AT EVENING, I BOWED LOW AT MORN. I PRAYED FOR SOME SIGN OF LIFE’S PLAN, WHEN LO, THE GLAD ANSWER, THE WORD WITH ITS LIGHT — LOVE IS THE SOUL OF MAN.
FROM YOUR FRIENDS AT WILDERNESS ROAD
MARCH 17, 1979
It’ll probably show up in a sermon someday.
Mark also enjoys water painting. He is much better at it than I am.
We met Tori for lunch at Sutton’s Drug Store, but unless a tasty chili cheeseburger is a drug, then it is now only a restaurant…. but what a burger, and yes, I got the t-shirt.
We continued touring the campus and saw a show at the planetarium (there may have been a nap involved during a portion of it) and then stopped at the Ackland Art Museum. We were all delighted with this visit, and it definitely made the day.
My favorite piece was Saint John the Evangelist by Valentin de Boulogne. He is listening so intently to the Spirit.
Richard Westall’s The Sword of Damocles. The story behind the painting:
The “sword of Damocles” refers to a situation where a person lives under the constant threat of an impending disaster or harm. The idiom comes from an ancient Greek anecdote where a sycophantic courtier named Damocles, who envied the powerful life of King Dionysius II, was offered to trade places with the king for a day. Damocles found himself in the king’s seat, enjoying the luxury, only to look up and see a sharp sword hanging precariously above his head by a single strand of horsehair, symbolizing the ever-present danger and anxiety that comes with power and fortune.
Finally, there was a fine etching by the German artist Albrecht Dürer titled The Babylonian Whore, a depiction of a scene from the Book of Revelation.
Saturday and Home
La Luna, è bellissima. A wonderful few days in North Carolina.
Candle in a Cave 