While wandering around the other day I came upon the Basilica of Saint Paul.  Within it lay the tomb of the apostle himself.  In front of the tomb stood two gargantuan statues.  They were big, imposing, bearded men holding books and making holy signs.  My eyes were at about they're foot level, as they were raised on stone pedestals.  I studied the one on the left, which happened to be Saint Peter, for quite some time.  His face was very stern.  He looked powerful.  He looked like he could be the first leader of the Catholic church.

Then I realized: he was just a man.  Saint Peter wasn't a god who made his followers cower beneath him.  He had no wrath- no matter how much the statue of him indicated it.  He was just a man like any other man.  He must of felt pain and sorrow and regret.  He wasn't immune to the passions of humanity.  In the end, we're just people.

I hate to pull a Batman quote but... it's what you do that defines you.

What defines me then?  I feel like I don't do much of anything.  At least anything of worth.  I am definitely not Saint Peter.  And thinking that someone accomplished so much astonishes me.  I look at these churches and basilicas- at some of the incredible sculpture and detailing- and I find myself wondering what I'm here for.  I am no master sculptor.  I can barely even draw.  And here I am amongst Michelangelo's paintings, the world's greatest works of art.  It makes me think of where I'm going in life.  I don't know where that is.  I feel I'm at a turning point but everything around the bend is still out of sight.

Definition.  I had that once.  Rome has muddled it even more.  I don't know if I'll ever have it again.