This campus is a dichotomy in practice. It is stone and marble and brick and lamp posts and tulips. Face one way and it’s the bustle of a city, traffic, walkers, bicycles, radios, chatter, convenience stores. Face the other way and it is green and benches and pastoral.

Today I will walk down the block to the church for Mass. This makes me happy. Shrill sirens scream behind the buildings, people chatter. I sit in partial sunlight under a big tree with rust colored leaves, comfortably, just enough sun in my eyes, warmth on my skin and a cool enough breeze that my decision to not bring a sweater is validated.

I look on at St. Rose, immortalized in stone, arms crossed, eyes closed, wondering about her. My Google list is long and she is at the top to learn about the woman for whom this campus is named for.

I close my eyes (and I hear Kansas – a by-product of a 70s childhood and A supernatural fandom), but only for a moment and the moment’s gone, but the moments here last a bit longer than a moment.

The parking is mostly good and I think about coming back here in later weeks as an inspirational place. Sit and be. Think and write.

Contentedness overlaps with excitability and the bells are ringing to announce the hour. I don’t have a ride home, and I am not worried in the least. This feeling reminds me of a similar day in Williamsburg. I haven’t reached the space of pure contentment and zero anxiety of that day, but this is very close. The winding paths and benches, the stone foundations and the brickwork, the root cellar doors and the leaves barely moving in the gentle breath of the air all remind me of Colonial Williamsburg. I thought it was the place a year ago – goodness it’s exactly a year ago to the day, isn’t it – I thought it was the pace – the childhood memories, being newlyweds, the home of my best friend but it is more than my life experiences as sitting her about five hundred miles north gives me nearly the same feels to grasp onto and gravitate towards.

It is this inner spirituality, inner peace inner light that comes on the breeze and adapts to my surroundings. The devil is in the details but really it is G-d in the details, doing without us noticing until our souls do in fact notice and feel that déjà vu to center us wherever we are.

Like right now.

And here.