Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Bicycle Banter: Sede vacante
Opening my eyes to the black Pixar light, permenantly looking down on the books of Hermits and Hemingway, I remember: reading into the night on Buddhist & Christian monastics, Lectio Divina and Nirvana. The Gethsemani Encounter it was called. My low battery on my phone- checking Twitter for conclave and Paris-Nice updates. The Patrine throne has been empty for 13 days. Conclave is to be set by seven Vatican time. Team Sky and Garmin-Sharp looking nice. Milan-San Remo this weekend. Waking up before the sun has its perks. Morning prayer has a nice air to it, still loopy from the cough medicine last night. Breakfast is getting better, honey is my friend- on Johnny bread, on oatmeal, then cantaloupe. Change to work at the pottery studio with Nick, finding a rehydrated mouse in one of the fired bottles. Another day at the monastery, Tagle could be the first Filipino pope! I could be the first Filipino pope. The Vatican can reach me by email or cell phone. I jest. When I'm Pope, I'll require everyone, not just Catholics (since Catholic does mean "universal") to say one nice thing a day under punishment of Purgatory. O'Malley is a monk and an American and has papabile facial features, he'd be a super pope. Turkson would certainly reign in a JPII fashion and have first office Obama-like hype. But of course Tagle is my favorite. Has anyone asked God who's his favorite? In flight, sickness through civil sneezing, snotty bodies, I dare not ride again. Back in the Pacific Northwest, my home breathes with me, a innate deep breath of clean hydrated unadulterated air. On the Road I write this Bicycle Banter, some unfiltered unacademic unreserved mind dump, hopefully helping those poor souls with nothing to do. Cue "until next time," though that doesn't have the same ring as it used to. How about arrivederci? Sede vacante.