Magic

As an adult, I have gleefully read Dante's Inferno and frequently reference his circles of hell, generally causing people to give me blank or concerned stares. I reveled in Dante's creative means of punishment in his Purgatorio, but I never had any interest whatsoever in reading his Paradiso. After all,  What could possibly be interesting about perfection?  

As a child, I sat in church, rebelliously listening to stories of heaven and I questioned.. "Really? you just praise God all day? That sounds boring!" After church, I would race outside to play, savoring the freedom of the dirt beneath my fingernails. 

While waiting in the busy basilica to take a photo with Saint Peter, I listened in on a conversation between a young girl, her parents, and a humorless priest. "Why is everyone touching his feet?" The girl questioned while looking at Peter's feet rubbed smooth by the hands of millions of pilgrims. "Well," the priest began haughtily. "It's actually a pagan ritual that I think is wrong because that statue is not saint Peter. It's just a statue and touching the feet is a form of idol worship. Saints are not God and worshiping them is wrong.." As the priest continued his sermon, the little girl interrupted, "but I  just want to touch his feet!" She looked my direction with confusion in her eyes. 

I shrugged sympathetically. "I think that the saints are my friends." I said. "And I am going to touch his feet!" 

The priest glanced darkly my way and said dismissively to the girl, "Well, I'm not, but you can if YOU want."  I watched them walk away without approaching Peter, and I laughed as I saw the little girl glance frequently back at him, a little pilgrim shining from her eyes. 

Later, hours after leaving the basilica, I had lost my humor.  "Peter, you are such an asshole!!!" I said while cleaning my dropped gelato off of all my money and passport. I had spent the intervening hours wandering Rome lost and disoriented after my phone died, taking all my maps with it,  and my sense of direction had fled like a pigeon hoarding a cracker. Peter laughed though, "Jen, you didn't think the lessons would end upon touching my feet, did you..."

My last night in Rome, Daniele, a friend of mine from last year's camino, and I shared beers and confidences in Campo De Fiori.  I had just bought a pretty little dress in one of the stores in the piazza and I was trying to soak in every last weak ray of sunshine and every voice echoing off the cobblestones. Daniele and I sat, our heads together as we talked of life, love and God and my heart felt sick at just the thought of leaving beautiful Rome in mere hours. As we chatted facing the piazza, a loud street performer approached and set up in front of us. I sent an annoyed glance his way as he noisily began his "magic" routine, cutting off my conversation with Daniele. I watched the man grudgingly, mentally scoffing at his silly tricks as he swallowed a sword. "Pfft, Any fool can see that the sword is collapsible," I thought. 
 "Oh Come on Jen, I have taken you across this entire country and still you don't see???"
"Peter, I only see a loud man with tired tricks! I don't know what I am supposed to see?!"
"Look again."

I looked up, staring at the man and glancing at the people around me. My gaze landed on a beautiful young girl, dancing on the edge of becoming a stunning young woman, her face shining with innocence and amazement as she eagerly watched the magician.

"Do you see her joy, Jen?" Peter said. " Stop looking for the trick and instead fill yourself with the same wonder she has in the beautiful creation around  you!"

*****

"Peter!!!! I have to leave today and yet you put a giant street market right outside my door??? You know I love markets!!! WTF???"
"Don't worry Jen, you'll have plenty of chances in your future to buy 3 euro skirts and cheap knockoff soccer jerseys...But why don't you console yourself now with some duty free Grappa."

I put on my backpack, blew a kiss Saint Peter's way, and headed to the airport.

"It's not what you look at that matters, 

It's what you see." 

Henry David Thoreau