Post Pope Pfunk

I’m blue. The man in white is heading home. I’m not Catholic, or really all that religious. I used to say that I was “spiritual” which made me feel like I wasn’t dead inside because I didn’t believe in a Jesus or Allah or Krishna or L. Ron Hubbard. But now I’m ok with that. I believe in people. Collectively.

But that aside, I cannot believe the spirit of joy and love that I’ve felt from this man, head of one the wealthiest organizations in the world, through the TV! There’s just something about his face. His eyes and smile aren’t big and animated like the other faces we are used to seeing on display.

I swear I can feel his kindness and warmth. I’ve loved learning about his childhood, about his tendencies toward the poor and sick. I don’t agree with all his ideas, but I agree with his delivery. He condemns no one. There is no hell and fury. There is only acceptance and open arms. Imagine disagreeing with someone without hating them? What a novel concept.

Not surprisingly, I want to know more. I heard he had back problems, how did he handle this marathon visit to North America? Does he nap? Does he ever get some privacy? When does he eat? What does he eat? When he was in Philly did someone shove a cheese steak in his hand? Why weren’t there pictures of him having a slice of NYC pizza?

I liked turning on the news and not seeing Trump. I liked seeing Pope Francis in Madison Square Garden and millions of people trying to see him. I mean he doesn’t even have an Instagram! His followers are live.

I’m not saying he’s perfect. When I heard he gives sleeping bags to the homeless outside of The Vatican I thought, “gee, that’s nice but couldn’t a small portion of your institution’s wealth take care of all the poverty in Italy?”.

But I don’t care. I like him. A lot. I like the way he made me feel the last few days. I like that all the newscasters had to fill time with positive things.

And now it’s over. Trump and Putin are on 60 Minutes. I feel like people started yelling as soon as he left the country. It seems very ungodly.

Instagram insomnia

It’s 10:38pm. I have to wake up and go to work in about a minute. I should be tucked in and sleeping, deep in my REM cycle. But I’m wide awake, going into the rabbit hole known as Instagram. It’s evil. It’s wonderful. It compares only to the black hole of time known as Pinterest.
Lately I’m knee deep in NatGeo on Instagram. You know those annoying magazines that were all over your elementary school library? Turns out – it was full of the coolest stuff ever, photographed by even cooler people. Who knew?
Here’s a blue whale in Hawaii with a local diver, the Grand Tetons in their glory, a stare down by a young bear on the Denali mountains, a sea walrus tribe waiting for a baby to be born, a turtle in French Polynesia and an original point of view of the Pope. Take that People Magazine!
Ok. I need to go to bed. Right after I look at 1,000 more photos. All photo cred goes to the gods at Nat Geo.

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