Never thought a power drill would be involved. But that’s what it takes to hang mosquito net around here. It wasn’t too bad really. And I even did get to play the part of Arachne when I realized there was a hole to be mended. Thread came out, plaster was drilled, a shelf was hung, and now . . . well, it isn’t exactly the picture of gossamer things from my childhood, but it isn’t so bad. Most importantly, I have a few feet of vampire-less space.
Tomorrow is, of course, Easter. I’d love to scratch the big surface and ponder the significance of it — especially now with war raging on, death, destruction, global alienation and seclusion. But I can’t. Gigione began to the other night sitting in front of Santa Croce, the largest Franciscan church in the word—trying to comprehend some key details about religion and where it has led us, and why all of the violence in its name. It was a discussion I knew was never ending. It is a discussion we all need to have. It is what we should strive to understand every time a bomb explodes and another human being taken. It is also a discussion that needs to occur between people who have studied all aspects, all the different facets of religion, every branch and every leaf. And that is truly beyond me. My patience crumbles easily and my mind cannot hold so much weight. But imagine being a world leader . . . books open every night trolling for information, every day an exercise in compassionate discourse, scholars and diplomats consulted regardless of their politics, gladly spending your life trying to find a solution, and trying desperately to stave off more blood. Can you picture that? I know, it’s hard to imagine now.
Here’s to the resurrection of ideas and dreams.