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Don Pedrito : 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Endless Journey

While my rarely, tormented returning to God, there is no soul to enlighten my trail. I am traveling in the orthodox space of my forefathers, seeking for the signs of time. I look for the way back and I look for the way forth. The solitude never seemed to be so dark. The decay seems to devour deep down inside things.

icoana1.jpeg (3397 bytes)Don Pedrito looks overwhelmed, too, by the dust of our routes, cleared out after a too long winter, and by the silence of such many places, which look as if burdened with mystery to him, and tighten in tears for me.

“How it is strange” – murmurs Don Pedrito while crossing the Holy Mountain– how the lights of the icon are growing, little by little, into the lights of your soul”. I gaze at him in wonder and I would like to feel the change he is telling me about but I don’t even have the courage to confess how during this journey of ours I wasn’t affected by anything else but the beauty of the monasteries, the silence in which they seem to dwell for centuries and the liturgical harmonies .

But nothing else touches me; I don’t feel any mystical trembling at all but the endless emptiness inside me. I feel more and more deserted and I perceive Don Pedrito far, far away from me; it seems we’ve never been so distant and alienated. As I would be traveling alone over these settlements with oriental resonances: Rila, Lavra Petcherska, Hagia Sophia, Stavronikita, Golia  icoana2.jpeg (6338 bytes)

“Maybe if you wouldn’t be trying so hard to feel something and would abandon yourself to this feeling of peace and unconditioned beauty, you might be able to reach where you aim to” tells me at his departure. From now on I shall travel alone. I look forth and I look back.

Then I start to glide again among saints with big, tender eyes, among people with nicely combed beards for whom the time is measured in accordance with the sun and with the silver-like cadency of the bells, and I return to God and to myself .

icoana3.jpeg (7377 bytes)“It is an endless journey,” I say to myself. Even if gone, I keep feeling Don Pedrito around, like an overprotective spirit, guiding me through the thickets of my quest.


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