Dear Friends,
I just finished the first of three months sabbatical that I’m taking this church year. I took a month to read and reflect on a writing project that I will be doing with the next two months of sabbatical in spring. I went to a retreat center in the Tuscany region of Italy where I was shepherded around by a good friend there. It was, indeed, a privilege to take a trip like this. I did rest, read, and wrote some about how we construct notions of the self in relation to the rest of nature and other than human animals. I took long walks in the beautiful countryside, visited cathedrals and castles, and bakeries, and of course, I went to Assisi.
One of the things that I noticed wherever I went was the presence of cats. There were cats that live with people, cats that seem to live outside but are cared for by people, and cats that are clearly feral. With the exception of one feral cat, the cats looked healthy. None of them were fixed. It seems that this isn’t a sensibility where I stayed. While I loved seeing the kitties, I wondered at the huge cultural shift that would need to happen for spay and neutering to become the norm.
Kitty at a castle
Tuscany is truly a beautiful place. The countryside is quiet and pastoral. I went on hikes, and as I mentioned, visited churches. I would pause and breathe in the clean, fresh-from-rain air. It didn’t take long before I noticed what sounded like cars backfiring in the distance, and it didn’t take long before I realized that I was hearing gunshots. My friend confirmed for me that it was hunting season.
On one outing, we visited a lovely progressive Catholic community whose mission emphasizes peace and contemplation of nature. The view from the property of the church was stunning. It was one of the few sunny days of my 11-day stay. I stood at a low wooden fence overlooking the countryside.
View from a church of peace
As I breathed a prayer of peace for the world and all beings, my reverie was shattered by the sound of a gun. A few moments later I was startled to see a hunter emerge from the woods, his dog followed quickly behind him. How could they be so close to this place? I started talking loudly and gesturing wildly, hoping to distract the hunter or scare the birds that were his prey. I wasn’t close enough to have an effect – he didn’t even notice me as he retreated back into the woods. No more shots. A little while later I saw the hunter reemerge with dog and gun in tow. For reasons I don’t really understand I lifted my camera and shot. Just at that moment, with the camera still up to my eye, I heard the gun shot. I lowered my camera in time to see the hunter with his gun lowered, a bird flying and the dog running. Reeling back, I grasped the fence so that I wouldn’t fall backwards. My body felt numb and I was light-headed. It was as if a shock went through my body. I wanted to cry and I couldn’t speak for a time.
My friends walked me away silently.
When I downloaded my pictures from the day I realized that my body felt what my eye didn’t register.
The hunter and the prey
I had caught the hunter shooting the bird.
I left that place, and am left with, the juxtaposition of the beauty of the place and the ugliness of the act. I am left with images of unspeakable beauty and heartbreaking tragedy.
May all beings be happy, may all beings be free from suffering.
Blessings to you dear ones…
beth
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