MY LAST DAY IN GUATEMALA

WP_20171007_001

MY LAST DAY IN GUATEMALA

First of all, I went to the Volunteer House to check out and receive my certificate.
Then, I walked to Saint Francis Church to meditate a few minutes in front of the statue of San Benito of Palermo.
This Franciscan saint is popular in South America. He is considered the protector of colored people. In fact, he was a refugee from Ethiopia adopted by a Sicilian family.
Walking in the street, I came across a family of musicians. They played good melodies with their old rudimentary instruments. Although they didn’t go to music school, they have a natural sense of rhythm.
Tomorrow, I am leaving to Korea. From one continent to another. I like traveling throughout the world, so as the musicians of Antigua enjoy playing their instruments.
Unfortunately, I cannot travel beyond the borders of this world. If it were possible, I would definitely do!
Ettore Grillo, author of these books:
– A Hidden Sicilian History
– The Vibrations of Words
– Travels of the Mind
http://www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

Advertisements

VOLCAN DE AGUA (WATER VOLCANO) HISTORY AND LORE

WP_20170929_007

VOLCAN DE AGUA (WATER VOLCANO)
HISTORY AND LORE

At midnight, fireworks lit the sky. They lasted all night.
At breakfast, I met Maria, the owner of the house where I am staying.
“What happened last night? Why so many fireworks till dawn?”
“In the near town of San Miguel, they are celebrating the patron saint.”
“Who is he?”
“Saint Michael the Archangel!”
“I want to go! How can I get there?”
“Don’t worry! I’ll lead you. The place is not far from here.”

WP_20170929_002
We arrived at San Miguel Escobar half an hour later or so. The streets were decorated with yellow ribbons and yellow balloons. The color yellow is symbol of happiness!
In some houses an altar had been set up with angels and baskets full of fresh flowers.
In the small church of the town there were big and small statues of Saint Michael the Archangel. He was dressed as a Roman soldier with sword and shield, but his face looked like that of a little boy. Apparently, he uses love as a weapon!

WP_20170923_004
Keeping walking, we arrived at Ciutad Vieja (Old City), the second capital of Guatemala. It lies at the foot of Volcan de Agua.
“There is a small church inside the crater! But it is a bit hard to go up there. Do you know what happened to this old city a long time ago?”
“No, I don’t!”
“Beatrix de la Cueva, Governor of Guatemala, had twenty maids attending her. In 1541, she wanted to be proclaimed the queen of the local population. To her enthronement, she organized a sumptuous ceremony in the Cathedral.
“When she was about to be anointed, a huge mass of water came down from Volcan de Agua. Beatrix de la Cueva was submerged in the water and disappeared with all her following and the city. This is human life!”
We walked for a little while in Ciutad Vieja, and then left the town to go back to Antigua.
Ettore Grillo, author of these books:
– A Hidden Sicilian History
– The Vibrations of Words
– Travels of the Mind
http://www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

WHY DO I VOLUNTEER?

WP_20170923_017WP_20170922_025

WHY DO I VOLUNTEER?

My way of traveling is a bit unusual.

First of all, I don’t use tourist guides. Whenever I land in a new country, I try to spy out the spirituality of the people living there and their approach to religion and sacredness over the centuries.

I am interested in people’s heart to see whether there are some differences depending upon the country when one has been born. By volunteering, I can stay with the locals, talk with them, and taste their feelings.

Hitherto, traveling all over the world, I have not found any discrimination in humans’ heart. All people are the same! Africans, Italians, Germans, Americans, Guatemalans, migrants, local residents, and so on, have the same soul, the same mind, the same heart. No difference between them!

Second, I volunteer to share what I know. I have been studying since I was a child, and now I want to hand down what I have learned over the years.

My way of volunteering seems to be working. The children have enjoyed my teaching. That was enough to make me satisfied.

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

WALKING IN ANTIGUA

WP_20170902_008

WALKING IN ANTIGUA

Traveling across the world, I have landed in the city of Antigua, in Guatemala.

Today, I took a walk to spy out the place. Soon, my attention was drawn to the many ruined churches. What happened? Although the places of worship had been built well and with good materials, they didn’t withstand the earthquakes. Here, the ground quakes quite often.

The city, which once was the capital of Guatemala, stands near three volcanoes: two inactive and one, called ‘Fuego’, still active. The plumes of smoke from its peak are really amazing.

WP_20170902_059

Some churches have been rebuilt in different areas. I entered one which is run by the Franciscan Friars. They assist the population in many ways.

WP_20170902_016

Someone told me that a lot of children with the harelips are born in Guatemala. Their parents take them to the hospital to have surgery, but sometimes they don’t return to the hospital to take their children back home. The Franciscan Friars help all those abandoned children.

WP_20170902_027

Keeping walking, I came across a quinceanera, a girl who has just turned fifteen. She was standing in the square wearing a long, shiny dress to celebrate her transition from childhood to womanhood. Today, a big party will be given for her. According to Latino tradition, she is now ready for marriage. She is a woman.

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

AVALON, THE LOST ISLAND

WP_20170703_014

AVALON, THE LOST ISLAND

The small town of Glastonbury has been a holy place since time immemorial. It is said that the area was a marshland, and only the Isle of Avalon stood amid the swampy water.

According to legend, King Arthur and his wife Guinevere were buried on the top of the Isle of Avalon. Later the monks of Glastonbury Abbey found the burial place and moved the bones to the abbey where they still lie.

These days, the Isle of Avalon is called “THE TOR”. On the top of it, the Tower of Saint Michael dominates the vast surrounding plains. From up there the view is breathtaking.

All the area around Glastonbury is believed to be mystic.

It is said that Joseph of Arimathea was the Virgin Mary’s uncle. He used to come to England to trade in metals. In one of his travels he even brought the young Jesus with him.

After Jesus’ crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea brought the Holy Grail – the cup from which Jesus drank during the Last Supper, filled with the blood that dripped from the cross- to Glastonbury.

At the foot of “THE TOR”, there are two springs across from each other: “The White Spring” and “The Red Spring”. Their water is thought to be miraculous.

WP_20170703_003

The “White Spring” is inside a cave. The water flows into two small pools, one bigger than the other.

As soon as I entered the cave, I felt a strange energy, similar to that I had experienced in a cave in Tanzania ten years ago. Here, there were naked people, both women and men, that bathed in the water. Four women stood in a circle with their hands up holding roses in the middle of the wider pool.

Inside the cave, small altars with bones of animals, ribbons, small stones, and similar objects were placed all around.

One of the women in the cave told me that if I dipped my legs in the water my brain would be purified at once.

Inside the cave it was dark. The burning candles couldn’t light it.

The “Red Spring” stands in the open air. The water seems to be colorless. Walking uphill I arrived at “Chalice Well”. The water looked quite reddish due to the iron that it contains.

WP_20170703_030

In Glastonbury I have learned something more about legends, history and traditions of England. The rites which people perform in the cave of the White Spring are unique.

Some day, if somebody asks me where to go while he is traveling in England I will answer without any hesitation: “Go visit Glastonbury! You will not be disappointed definitely. It is one of the most amazing, mystic, and magic place in the world.

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

THE MIRACULOUS MEDAL

WP_20170624_001

THE MIRACULOUS MEDAL

One day, I went to St Francis’s Church in Enna. The Franciscan friar that was celebrating Mass told us the story of Saint Catherine Laboure.

She was born into a well-to-do family in 1806. Since she was a little girl, Saint Vincent De Paul appeared to her in a dream.

In 1830 Saint Catherine became a novice in the hospice of Daughters of Charity, the religious order founded by Saint Vincent De Paul.

One night, a young boy woke up Catherine and asked her to follow him to the chapel. She followed him. At the touch of the young boy, the doors of the chapel burst open. The church was lit up. Maria was sitting on a chair and asked Catherine to come close.

At the end of the same year the apparition occurred to her again. This time Our Lady was standing on a globe. She ordered that a medal of the apparition should be made. The miraculous medal.”

The Franciscan friar gave a few medals to the congregation and asked us to give them to those in need.

Now I am in Paris. This morning I went to visit the Chapel where the apparitions happened. I wanted to see the incorrupt body of Saint Catherine, but it was not possible because Mass was said continuously in the chapel. I couldn’t get close to the sarcophagus.

Even though I couldn’t see the body of Saint Catherine, I felt very peaceful.

In this holy place I have learned something more about Saint Vincent De Paul and his Sisters of Charity.

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo

SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI

cordoba-st-francis-assisi-st-clara-prayer-front-porziuncola-church-convento-de-capuchinos-spain-may-iglesia-60058416[1]

Saint Francis Of Assisi

The official biography of Saint Francis was written by Saint

Bonaventura, who was appointed this task by the Franciscan

general chapter in 1260, thirty-four years after Saint Francis’s

death.

Saint Francis was born in the city of Assisi on September

26, 1182 and died on October 3, 1226. His father was a

prosperous merchant and his mother a noblewoman. He was

given the name John by his mother, but when his father

returned from France, he changed the name to Francis, in

honor of France, the country where he had made his wealth.

Coming from a well-to-do family, Francis had the opportunity

to study Latin, poetry, music, Italian, French, the Provencal

dialect, and literature. It seemed that Francis was destined to

follow in his father’s footsteps.

Around the age of twenty, Francis joined up with the Assisi

army and fought against the city of Perugia, but he was taken

prisoner and remained in prison for one year. The time he

spent in jail was very hard, so much so that he contracted a

serious illness when he returned home. His sickness was the

turning point in his life. He decided to radically change his

lifestyle. To that point he had lived a worldly life, but now he

chose to dedicate himself to following Jesus’s model. He began

to give money to help the lepers, the poor, and the needy.

Francis’s new life and prodigality were not appreciated by

his father, who eventually disinherited him. From then on,

Francis lived a life of poverty and absolute simplicity. Soon

other young people joined him, giving rise to the monastic

Franciscan order. His soul was so pure that he talked with

birds, and one day he even tamed a wolf. An example of the

pureness of his heart can be found in the “Canticle of the

Creatures,” which he composed in 1225.

Saint Francis’s life was short; in fact, he lived only fortyfour

years. After his death, many authors started writing his

biography. Some biographies had a hagiographic aim, while

others were straightforward accounts, but some data is

common to all of them:

Saint Francis was a great traveler. Around the age of thirty

he left his hometown to go to Syria. Unfortunately, his journey

was interrupted in Dalmatia for an unknown reason, but

probably because he couldn’t find a ship to Syria, so he was

forced to return to Italy.

In spite of the failure of his first attempted trip to a Muslim

country, he set off on another journey to Islamic lands, this

time Morocco. To go to Morocco, he crossed France and Spain.

Again he failed to succeed in his plan, because he contracted

a serious disease in Spain and once more had to return to

Assisi.

His third endeavor to get to an Arab country finally

succeeded. He boarded a ship at Ancona in the year 1219,

seven years before his death, at the same time the fifth crusade

was under way. Once in Egypt, Saint Francis wanted to meet

Sultan Malic al-Kamil. Their meeting really happened, and as

far as we know, he was treated kindly by the sultan as a guest,

and not as an enemy. He received safe conduct and was invited

to return to visit Egypt anytime.

From Egypt he travelled to the Holy Land. About two years

before his death, he received the stigmata on Mount Verna.

Later, his health worsened and he died in a small church

near Assisi called Porziuncola. At his death, his body was taken

to Assisi and a basilica was later built in the place where he

was buried.

I had the opportunity of going to Assisi three times in my

life. The first time was with my parents on a travel to north

Italy. It happened many years ago. Even though I was very

young and not in a condition to appreciate Saint Francis’s

message to humanity, a few things remained etched in my

mind. One was the sight of the cilice, which Saint Francis wore

to mortify his body.

The cilice was a special garment made of goat hair, which

caused considerable suffering to the person who wore it. The

flesh was considered a kind of contamination of the soul;

therefore, through the mortification of the body, the soul

would be purified.

Hearing the story of Saint Francis from my parents, I was

struck by the strength of character of this great man who

rebelled against his father in order to follow the aspirations of

his heart.

The second time I visited Assisi was while I was traveling

on a trip organized by the parish priest from the Church of

San Cataldo. We visited the basilica, which is divided into three

parts: the upstairs basilica, the walls of which are covered with

gorgeous frescoes by Giotto; the downstairs basilica, which

contains other works of art; and finally the crypt where Saint

Francis’s mortal remains are kept.

The tomb is placed in a raised position over the altar, and

is made without frills of grey square and rectangular stones.

As soon as I knelt to say some prayers and make a wish, I had

the sensation that a kind of energy was radiating from his

tomb, and then I asked Saint Francis to hear my prayer.

Please, Saint Francis, grant me a gift! You are a very

powerful saint and can easily make my wish come true. I love

Elisabetta more than life, and I want her to become my wife.

There are many hindrances that prevent us from getting

married. Please, Saint Francis, remove all the hindrances and

help us get married as soon as possible.”

At that time I had fallen in love with a young lady named

Elisabetta. She was from Enna as well, and taught Latin and

Greek at the high school. I courted her for two years and

wanted to get engaged to her. We used to stroll along Via Roma

and Belvedere and talk religion. In fact, she was an earnest

Catholic, to such an extent that she was once on the verge of

quitting her job to become a Carmelite cloistered nun.

One day while we were walking around the Lombardia

Castle, she told me of her pilgrimage to Assisi. “I have been

struck by Saint Francis’s burial place. I felt a special energy

coming from his tomb,” she said.

Now, I don’t know whether or not it was due to

autosuggestion because Elisabetta had told me her feelings,

but the same strange sensation was now happening to me.

While I repeatedly asked San Francis to grant my wish, I felt

as if powerful energy was radiating from his tomb and talking

to me.

I have spent all my life searching for God,” Saint Francis’s

energy seemed to say, “and now you arrive at my tomb and

ask me to grant you a trivial wish, Vincenzino!”

I wondered why Saint Francis would consider my wish to

get married to my beloved trivial. As time passed, I realized

that I had actually requested something really trivial. In fact,

human affairs like love, business, careers, and so on are trifles

in comparison to the search and love for God, who is the giver

of life.

Meanwhile, Elisabetta got married to another man, and I

understood that what I had considered a great love was

nothing more than an infatuation doomed to dissolve like the

fog dispersed by the wind.

True love is not related to a woman or a person. Love is

something that you must have inside you. Love comes from

your heart and mind, and it stands apart from the appearance

and character of the people who you come across and the

happenings of life.

Later, I married a lady from Greece, and we now live

together in Enna. In the evenings after dinner, my wife and I

usually stroll along Via Roma and Saint Francis Square, which

is surrounded by old palaces on three sides and by the stately

Church of Saint Francis on the fourth.

A small green area had recently been attached to the

church, with an olive tree and a statue of Saint Francis

surrounded by white doves inside it. While my wife and I

were going back home and passed by that green, we noticed a

fragrance emanating from the area. We turned in all directions

but couldn’t spot a flower or a tree from where that subtle

scent might be emanating. The following days we passed by

the same place again, but we couldn’t smell anything.

A subtle thread was leading me to Assisi for the third time.

My Greek wife and I decided to take a car trip across northern

and central Italy. We embarked on a ferry in Palermo and

landed in Genoa. From there we travelled to Pisa, Florence,

and San Gimignano.

While we were admiring the numerous towers of the last

town, my wife suddenly cried out, “What about going to

Assisi? Is it far from here? Do you remember the fragrance we

smelt in Enna near the Church of Saint Francis?”

No, it is not far away. We can go to Perugia first, and Assisi

is a stone’s throw from there,” I replied.

We arrived at Saint Francis’s hometown around midday

and found lodging in a monastery run by Filipino nuns. We

strolled for a while around the medieval city and then arrived

at the basilica. My wife was surprised at the sight of the

frescoes both upstairs and downstairs.

Even though I am not a Christian,” she said, “and don’t

follow any religion, I cannot help being astonished by the

religious ardor that was behind these great masterpieces.”

Then we went to the crypt and sat on a pew facing Saint

Francis’s tomb. As soon as I sat down, I had the sensation that

the same energy that had talked to me many years ago was

now speaking again, suggesting the path I should follow to

find out who really I was.

Purify your heart, mind, body, and actions, and then you’ll

see God inside you!

What was Saint Francis telling me this time? I inferred

that he meant that the real kingdom of God is inside every

living being, but we cannot find it if our mind is contaminated

by too many materialistic desires or our actions are not

directed towards the wellbeing of our fellow creatures. I also

inferred that prayer and meditation are a good way to purify

the mind and get close to God, as long as my actions aim not

towards an egoistic goal, but to the love of all creatures.

While I was meditating on what Saint Francis was

suggesting to me at that moment, my wife suddenly turned to

me. “I have a pain in my heart, and my heart is pounding! I

shed tears and I don’t know why. I don’t feel sad and I don’t

know why I am crying!”

My wife is not Catholic, and actually doesn’t practice any

religion. So we couldn’t understand why such a phenomenon

befell her. Maybe the same energy that had talked to me was

revealing itself to her in some way.

I left Assisi with a strong devotion to Saint Francis. Every

time I had trouble in my life after that, I thought of him and

reminded myself that my worldly misfortunes are a mere

trifle. What really matters in life is the search and love for God

and all His creatures.

Reviewing my encounter with Saint Francis, I reconsidered

what my law teacher had taught me a long time ago. She had

stressed the importance of the difference between a piece of

evidence and a clue. A piece of evidence is a fact that you have

seen or heard, or a way that an event can be proved with

absolute certainty—evidence that can direct the judge to

return his verdict. A clue doesn’t have the strength of evidence,

and a mere clue is usually not enough to bring in a judge’s

verdict, but if the clues are numerous, unambiguous, precise,

and concordant with one another, they can be taken into

consideration by the judge in order to pass judgment.

In the case of my encounter with Saint Francis, there are

five clues that can be admitted as evidence of the existence of

another spiritual level that is beyond our ordinary worldly

life:

1. The energy that Elisabetta felt while she was praying

before the tomb of Saint Francis;

2. The fragrance that my wife and I smelt near his statue

while we were strolling in Enna;

3. The energy coming from his tomb that talked to me

about the true goals of my life, which were not a mere

love of a woman, money, or some other worldly

pleasure. Searching for God is the real goal;

4. The energy that I felt when I went to Assisi for the

third time. I realized that the kingdom of God is really

inside me. I just need purify my mind, my heart, and

my actions, and then I can be on the path that leads to

the spiritual world;

5. The unusual sensation of pain in my wife’s chest and

the tears in her eyes while she was sitting with me in

front of Saint Francis’s tomb.

These days, Saint Francis is the master in my daily life.

Whenever I am too worried because my business didn’t go

well, I remind myself of the teachings he gave me in the crypt

in Assisi. The ups and downs of life are mere trifles when

compared to meeting God, who stays in the heart of every

human.

By minding Saint Francis’s teachings, I live my life in a

more relaxed way. I am less anxious. I just juggle the events of

life as soccer players do when playing a friendly match.

Excerpt from A Hidden Sicilian History by ETTORE GRILLO

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

www.sbpra.com/ettoregrillo