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gj Michelob -> RE: Back again (Sep. 12 2009 7:08:02)
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There is a little chapel, near the Roman forum, dedicated to St. Paul. A tight stair leads the ever-inappropriately-dressed tourist to a small lower level chamber. There, legend has it, St. Paul wrote his famous Epistles (letters to the Romans). And he did while slowly drowning in the sewage of the eternal city which drained in that chamber.
Each time I visit Rome I visit that painful site. While I lost much faith in the Roman Church, I still admire the revolutionary men and philosophy which had erected its first walls.
We all at some point in life, more or less frequently, will feel as a drowning prisoner, locked in a St. Paul’s chamber, struggling to breathe as the sewage raises around us. Whether real, an elusive ghost or a grandmother’s fairytale, any belief that there is a purpose in life, higher than the immediate circumstances, will grant wings to our crawling soul.
If you can play a Taranta, let it always take you to the heavens it conjures, when you end a phrase and your fingers form the F sharp Major. There “the eagles dwell, as does my heart”
[edited F sharp minor to Major.... ]
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