Assisi — Where the Centuries Speak

My Hail Mary Diary, Day 62 — June 2, 2026

“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” — St. Francis of Assisi

From Rome to Assisi in One Breath

I landed in Rome this morning.

And then, before I had time to fully believe I was here, we drove to Assisi. I want to tell you about that drive — because it was, by itself, worth the journey.

Italy unfolded outside the window like something I had seen before — in films, in paintings, in dreams I did not know I was having. Green valleys rolling between ancient mountains. Flowers everywhere — wild and tended and climbing up stone walls that have been standing for centuries. Palm trees appearing where you least expect them, a reminder that this country contains multitudes.

Along the highway, tucked into the hillsides - magnificent houses. The kind that belong to another century entirely, half-hidden by trees, half-revealed by the light. And then, at a gas station, of all places - big roosters and chickens, strutting with the particular confidence of creatures who know exactly where they belong. I laughed out loud. Italy does not waste a single moment on the ordinary.

And then, from far away - still distant, still small against the sky — the hillside city appeared.

Assisi.

Not a cluster of buildings. Not a town. A vision. A series of ancient structures laid along the mountain so perfectly, so naturally, that it seemed less built than grown — as if the stone walls and the terraced streets and the towers had simply emerged from the hillside over centuries, the way faith emerges from a life lived honestly.

There was not a dull moment on that entire road.

Arriving

When we arrived at the house we had rented, a cat was waiting.

Just sitting there. Calm and certain, as if it had known we were coming and had decided to be the welcoming committee. In Italy, even the cats have a sense of occasion.

We put down our bags. We looked at each other. We looked out at the view.

We were in Assisi.

The Small Details That Stop You

In Assisi, beauty does not announce itself. It waits for you to slow down enough to notice.

Flowers hanging outside a pair of shoes left beside a doorstep — as if beauty had decided that even the most ordinary objects deserved adornment.

A crack in an old wooden door, filled in with color pencils — each one a different shade, pressed into the gap with such care and such playfulness that I stopped and stared. Someone had looked at damage and decided to make it art. Nuwa would have approved.

A tall, ornate gate — intricate ironwork rising above the narrow street — opening onto a courtyard that seemed to breathe with centuries of quiet life.

And in front of the church: rusted pillars. Magnificent, weathered, standing with the particular dignity that only age and endurance can give. Not restored. Not replaced. Simply standing — as they have stood for centuries — proof that what is real does not need to be perfect to be magnificent.

Every detail in this town is a lesson in how to pay attention.

The Conference — A Room Full of Questions

This afternoon I attended the IASC World Changers for Peace conference at the Sala della Conciliazione, Palazzo dei Priori — one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever sat in. The gathering marks 800 years since the death of St. Francis, and asks one question in his shadow:

What does it mean to be human in the age of artificial intelligence?

The speech that stopped me came from Monsignor Antonio Staglianò, President of the Pontifical Academy of Theology:

“Francis stripped himself of all power — to rediscover the naked essence of the human. This war does the opposite: it strips us of the soul for the flow of data and lights.”

When trust dies, he said, only control remains.

I carried that sentence with me into the evening.

What Francis Knew

I thought about Francis today — the young man who stood in the public square of Assisi and gave back everything his wealth had given him. Not as sacrifice. As liberation.

What strikes me, reading his story from this distance of eight centuries, is not the poverty he chose but the joy that came with it. Francis was one of the most joyful people who ever lived. He had no need to accumulate because he had understood that he already possessed everything worth having.

Eight hundred years later. The same truth. A new and urgent context.

The Night in Assisi

And then the conference ended. And Assisi at night became something else entirely.

We ate Italian food, delicious, unhurried, the way Italians have always understood that a meal is not a transaction but a ceremony.

Every fifteen minutes, the bells rang. We could not help ourselves. We walked into the church for the evening convent.

The interior glowed — gold decorations catching the light in every direction, the kind of gold that does not show off but simply radiates, the way genuine beauty always does. The ceiling, the altar, the side chapels — all of it luminous, all of it alive in a way that photographs never fully capture.

And then the music began.

I do not have words for what that felt like — standing in a golden church in Assisi at night, with violin music rising through the centuries of stone and faith and accumulated prayer. It was the scene from the film. It was the dream I had almost forgotten.

It was real.

A Note to the Child Who Dreamed This

Yesterday I wrote about flying to Rome on International Children’s Day, feeling like a child whose dream was finally coming true.

Tonight, in Assisi, I want to add one more thing to that letter.

Dear child from Yuncheng —

You dreamed of places like this. You knew, somehow, that the world was large enough to hold everything you were hoping for, and ancient enough to have been hoping for it too.

You were right.

It is more beautiful than you imagined.

Keep dreaming. Keep writing. Keep moving toward whatever is calling.

It will be worth it. I promise. 🎻✨

My Hail Mary Diary is where I will share the stories, the memories, the ideas, and the pilgrimages that the book could only begin to hold. A new piece, every single day!

Jing Zhao Cesarone is a civilizational leader and global impact architect exploring the invisible forces that shape leadership, humanity, and the future. She is the Founder and CEO of the Global CSR Foundation and the author of Women’s Civilizational Leadership: A New Paradigm for the Golden Age of Humanity, an Amazon #1 New Release in General Gender Studies and Top 10 in Social Policy. The book is available at www.jingzhaocesarone.com