You name a church in Paris, and I probably have been there.

I’ve hit up so many “Saint Somethings” and “Basilique de” such and such’s that I can’t even keep track of them.

The church scene is one of my favorite things to do here. Kind of funny coming from someone who isn’t all that particularly religious. However, the spiritual weighs strongly in me, and I can’t help but feel extremely connected to all the things much much greater and beyond than just myself in these churches.

As I’ve mentioned before, I start blessing myself off with Holy Water — or as TC pointed out – “I’ll be god damned if that’s holy water, they turn the damn faucet on and fill it up.” Ever the optimist. Then I start praying. And find I have a hard time stopping.

Prayer has never really been high on my list either … I’m much more a meditator.

So once I get going with thoughts, it’s hard to stop. I’m sitting there probably looking certifiable as I’m either talking in a whisper, or mouthing the words silently — because I just can’t pray silently in my mind.

I completely lose track of even what I’m praying about and it usually quickly goes to something like, “and God, can you please help me find a Créperie stand when I leave here. I’d really appreciate that.”

There’s a couple things I can think of that are a little higher on my list than Crépes. Though, hey, crépes have their importance and place, too.

I don’t purposefully go out on the Église prowl, I let them find me. Meaning : if I’m out and about walking and see a sign for a church, I follow it, or quite literally will stumble upon it.

I always get that excited feeling when opening the door, almost like a child opening gifts on Christmas morning. That’s the emotion that runs through me.

How come I was never warned that Churches, particularly ones dating from oh the 14th century, can be addictive? Who knew I’d get a high off something so old? It’s like I need to get my daily fix now.

I suppose because it returns me to The All That Is.

To me, that’s the invisible chord that links us all together, the beginning and the end and everything in between.

Geez. Is it any wonder I’m église addicted, it’s like a constant spiritual high up in there.

Église Saint Geneviève — this place … I mean, just look at this door … you walk in, and are immediately enveloped. With love and peace. But I knew that would happen … ahem — door. Need I say more? I didn’t think so.

I need to find, or more like, create these sacred sort of spaces for myself when I’m home. Granted, it might not be something with Gargoyles and vaulted ceilings and ancient stain glass windows … but that’s not the point.

The point is … me … me being connected.

It might feel easier for me when sitting in a five hundred year old church that Louis XIV laid the stones for {that would be Église Val du Grâce}, but I can and should be able to feel that way anywhere, anytime.

Mastery in progress, people … and I don’t mean that just for myself … we are all masters in progress.