Europe is filled with Cathedrals. You backpack from country to country and you gradually become desensitized to their splendor.
But some of them, despite how many you walk into, still continue to have an awe-inspiring, and truly humbling experience.
I visited Notre Dame during Easter break. It was night, and the doors were closed, save for one small archaic wooden door garded by a kindly faced man. The courtyard was filled with tourists. And he kept turning people away. Easter approached, and no one was allowed in.
Unless you were Catholic. And were looking to pray.
I was, and generally am, an Agnostic. And I think when another Catholic hears a person is Agnostic, their response boils down to ‘challenge accepted.’
So I entered into the darkness. Quietly illuminated by candles. Hushed whispers as guards patrolled, looking for tourists who were lying about their faith. Ushering out those undevoted to make room for others praying or on pilgrimage.
I walked the halls in the darkness and felt the building’s age creep through my clothes and settle into my bones. Darkened stained glass sang a deep song as dark as its wooden pews. The cathedral whispered to me a promise to relinquish its secrets should I simply stop and pray to God.
And I stopped. And I prayed. And this agnostic was reminded by the safe and innocent embrace within God’s arms. I felt magick in this ancient building.
I left and thanked the man. His kind face hid whether he remembered me or not, but it was unimportant.
Another traveler – a Canadian artist came bounding up to me. She asked if I could take her picture. She let me borrow her lens, since we had the same camera base, to take a picture of myself and the whole Cathedral. She had prayed a few minutes earlier even though ‘praying wasn’t really her thing anymore.’ It wasn’t mine either.
We both found each other in a mass of people. And as wonderfully as we had connected, we walked away. Because Notre Dame is magick. And you never question magick – you simply accept.
My heart cries in terrible jagged screams.
—jes
Flommist Jes exists for moments of fiery inspiration. See her inspirational byproducts at jdeprez.com. Copyright © 2019 JES DEPREZ. Image source.
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