“The world, and whatever that be which we call the heavens, by the vault of which all things are enclosed, we must conceive to be a deity, to be eternal, without bounds.”
The very fabric of Rome is woven with religion. For, it was Romulus who, in c. 753 BC, consulted the gods for the divine approval of a new foundation, carefully laying out the pomerium - the sacred boundary of the new city.
And ever since its sacred creation, Rome has stood at the epicenter of the religious western world. As time has passed, columned temples have given way to Christian duomos; and a plethora of gods and priestesses have been replaced by the Lord and his clergy. Yet, Rome still remains the epicenter.
And it was religion that brought me to Rome in the first place. It was a worship of old paintings in obscure churches. But religion keeps pulling me back. Back to stay in a convent at the behest of my father-in-law, and to hear the Pope speak about faith and love. Back to sketch paintings of prophets and virgins. Back to walk between the ruins and tap into the pagan energies that waft among the tumbled white stones.
Although I do not belong to any one religion, I am forever immersed in the divinity of the world and her histories.
