I don't think it's Thursday anymore in any part of the world, so I guess we made it.
I guess Sarah Connor saved us from Skynet and the terminators again.

RS
You never know what you'll find in a sacristy.

Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going—so far as I can tell—but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think. I can feel it most strongly when I’m reading. Immersing myself in a book or a lengthy article used to be easy. My mind would get caught up in the narrative or the turns of the argument, and I’d spend hours strolling through long stretches of prose. That’s rarely the case anymore. Now my concentration often starts to drift after two or three pages. I get fidgety, lose the thread, begin looking for something else to do. I feel as if I’m always dragging my wayward brain back to the text. The deep reading that used to come naturally has become a struggle.
I think I know what’s going on. For more than a decade now, I’ve been spending a lot of time online, searching and surfing and sometimes adding to the great databases of the Internet. The Web has been a godsend to me as a writer. Research that once required days in the stacks or periodical rooms of libraries can now be done in minutes. A few Google searches, some quick clicks on hyperlinks, and I’ve got the telltale fact or pithy quote I was after. Even when I’m not working, I’m as likely as not to be foraging in the Web’s info-thickets—reading and writing e-mails, scanning headlines and blog posts, watching videos and listening to podcasts, or just tripping from link to link to link. (Unlike footnotes, to which they’re sometimes likened, hyperlinks don’t merely point to related works; they propel you toward them.)
I’m not the only one. When I mention my troubles with reading to friends and acquaintances—literary types, most of them—many say they’re having similar experiences. The more they use the Web, the more they have to fight to stay focused on long pieces of writing. Some of the bloggers I follow have also begun mentioning the phenomenon. Scott Karp, who writes a blog about online media, recently confessed that he has stopped reading books altogether. “I was a lit major in college, and used to be [a] voracious book reader,” he wrote. “What happened?” He speculates on the answer: “What if I do all my reading on the web not so much because the way I read has changed, i.e. I’m just seeking convenience, but because the way I THINK has changed?”
Sergey Brin and Larry Page, the gifted young men who founded Google while pursuing doctoral degrees in computer science at Stanford, speak frequently of their desire to turn their search engine into an artificial intelligence, a HAL-like machine that might be connected directly to our brains. “The ultimate search engine is something as smart as people—or smarter,” Page said in a speech a few years back. “For us, working on search is a way to work on artificial intelligence.” In a 2004 interview with Newsweek, Brin said, “Certainly if you had all the world’s information directly attached to your brain, or an artificial brain that was smarter than your brain, you’d be better off.” Last year, Page told a convention of scientists that Google is “really trying to build artificial intelligence and to do it on a large scale.”





Grrrrrr! It's all so confusing. So much for Vatican II's simplifying of the rite. And when so many of the faithful are begging for things to be returned to the more traditional way. How this benefits the faithful, I have no idea, because all I see is that people aren't having to make any effort in their faith anymore.
The Church recommends that a Eucharistic procession be held after (one of) the Mass(es) on this day.
Eventually we leave the main road in the valley and head up to the monastery. Just above the monastery, again stuck to the side of the mountain, is Preci. I'm not sure if this is Preci proper, or just a small "upper part" of it. This is the view of it from the monastery.
Turning around we see the entrance to the monastery.
Which opens into the inner courtyard with the church to the right.
Inside the church, you can see an amazingly beautiful design where the high altar and choir are placed above the main level of the church.
Here we see the main altar, the crucifix and two busts of Sant'Eutizio and San Spes.
Going behind the altar we come into the choir and on the backside of the high altar area we see the reliquary.
The signs tells us (one in Italian and one in English) "Here rests the bodies of Sant'Eutizio and San Spes, Abbots, whose acts were written about by Pope Saint Gregory [the Great]."
Here's the choir I mentioned above. It's all woodwork, and although it's a bit hard to tell, there are actually two levels of choir stalls there.
Going outside we can see the bell tower built into the cliffside.
Turning to the right, we are looking at the facade of the church with a beautiful Romanesque rose window.
Just to get your bearings, here's the facade of the church and you can see the entrance to the monastery which we came through to the right.
Turning around and going up the side of the hill, we come to the cave where Sant'Eutizio lived.
And finally, after we leave and drive back towards Norcia, we come up over the pass and are able to look out upon Norcia itself.
So, I hope you enjoyed this little virtual tour of Sant'Eutizio and hope you feel a bit closer to them. They may be unknown, but in God's Providence, they have actually had a huge influence upon religious life in the West. If you don't know much about them, please read last year's post.







El Caminito del Rey (English:The King's pathway) is a walkway or via ferrata, now fallen into disrepair, pinned along the steep walls of a narrow gorge in El Chorro, near Álora in Málaga, Spain. The name is often shortened to El Camino del Rey.
The walkway has now gone many years without maintenance, and is in a highly deteriorated and dangerous state. It is one meter (3 ft) in width, and is over 700 feet (200 m) above the river. Nearly all of the path has no handrail. Some parts of the walkway have completely collapsed and have been replaced by a beam and a metallic wire on the wall. Many people have lost their lives on the walkway in recent years. After four people died in two accidents in 1999 and 2000, the local government closed the entrances. However, adventurous tourists still find their way into the walkway.

