my life
22 May 2012 Leave a Comment
in poetica, remembrance Tags: amore, breath, breathe, dance, ecstasy, estasi, fire, fuoco, life, love, respiro, stelle, vita
now that it’s finally time,
the only moment that is really guaranteed in life,
I have just a few minutes to think
or stop myself from thinking by chanting,
“intanto, da sempre. rifanno il disegno le stelle…”
and so on, to remember and connect
to prepare to forget…events, ties.
I force myself to breathe.
it’s the only thing to do, the only thing that counts anymore.
with gratitude in my heart for every breath.
I breathe in deeply, hold,
exhale, out…it’s a good thing I practiced all this time
for this moment when breath has become metratura.
all these years constantly breathing
as an initiate, healer, teacher and guide.
have I finished? have I closed everything I needed to?
bank accounts?
books after reading to the last page?
conflicts suspended in the air for so long?
and all the things, everything
there is and that was
that there is and has been
to say, scream, paint, learn and create
dream.
with gratitude for the spectrum of emotion
every feeling from fury to ecstasy
lived fully.
I leaves traces of creations, writings, few possessions.
I am grateful for every fire. the Sacred Fire
the one for my birthday, the nucleo
the one from Spiritual Healers School and Ecstatic Dance
the one to light the bonfire and the ones for every New Year,
Purification of the People, days for honoring the elements,
Day of the Dead,
the one to burn leaves
and the ones of the sun and the moon
offered during Solstice and Equinox,
a chain of moments
fixing my imprint of awareness
in the territory of time.
closed. did I turn off the faucet in the bathroom this morning?
did I turn off the iron after I ironed this outfit?
which I selected as the last expression of fashion and choice
fluorescent kimono and cowboy boots
to express my Texas-Asian ethnic roots
until the last breath.
ah, yes. I need to remember to breathe.
did I say it all?
did I say “I love you” to everyone I love?
saying it while looking the person in the eye without using
the compromise of “ti voglio bene” in Italian,
which doesn’t even exist in English,
either “I love you” or “I don’t.”
then, all the other words aren’t so important.
all the novels that I wrote,
that will live beyond me.
if people will read them, if they won’t,
they will read the stars, which I will become.
did I dance every chance I had?
enjoying the body while it was here
while it’s here.
now with my final breaths,
beautiful trascendental music,
and I dance with the lungs,
with eyes that peek open and take in
clouds and fog,
with the heat and the cold that alternate in my veins,
with my toes, which I don’t feel anymore
even though I move them with the will of my mind.
all this. now. whether I am prepared or not.
I enter into the door that brings me to the threshold.
to fly, onward to the next adventure,
toward enlightenment,
beyond eternity.
la mia vita
Adesso che é proprio il momento,
l’unico momento veramente certo nella vita,
ho pochi minuti per pensare,
o allontanare i pensieri,
attraverso il canto:
“intanto, da sempre, rifanno il disegno le stelle…” More
Routine
14 May 2012 Leave a Comment
in community life, poetica Tags: calendar, calendario, daily life, Damanhur, dormire, fuso orario, giugla, jungle, pianificare, planning, predictability, prevedibilità, routine, sleeping, spontaneity, synchronicity, time zone, traveling, vita quotidiana
Before coming to Damanhur, very few routines in my life had survived. I was in a period of demolishing all predictability. Brushing my teeth twice a day, that yes. But, getting dressed in the morning…usually, though not always. I could eat breakfast at 6 am just as likely as 2 pm, not really because of sleeping in late, although that also happened at times, but rather to give the body time to detoxify when it called for it. Loosing myself in the project of the moment and doing nothing else not even sleeping for 36 hours. Not having a cell phone or computer for
four months while getting lost in the tropical jungle, then resurfacing in Los Angeles and posting tales from the voyage on my blog for three weeks, before selling the MacBook again and using the money to buy the next plane ticket, this time to Istanbul. Falling asleep in one time zone to wake up shifted into one two hours ago. Yes.
Now. If you ask me what I’ll be doing at 5:45 pm on Saturday, November 13, 2012, I can already answer you. Everything meticulously programed and color-coded in iCal, the routines for every day, the weekly ones to do by Friday and those not to be done before Tuesday, bi-monthly, monthly, at the first of the month, by the end of the month, trimestral, semestral, annual, every 15 months, every 18 months, every 2 years, crossed reference with the ones every second Sunday of the 
month, not to be confused with the one every two weeks alternating Wednesday and Thursday and those from 11 to 11:30 Monday and Wednesday the week before the full moon, but not in July.
Daily journal writing, prayers, programming. When my Virgo personality is at the wheel, I can pass the entire day planning to perfection. Although, I find that it’s all useful. I read my journal and I retrace landscapes of memory, the valleys and clouds, little signs that otherwise wouldn’t have left a trace in the mind. That which is renounced with spontaneity returns 10 times over again with directed thought and the force of constancy, steps forward toward the objectives already sketched with dotted lines. With all this structured and programmed living, does synchronicity still work as a vehicle for amazement? Yes, but it’s much more subtle, clandestine, collective. A sea with pulsations and orchestrated rhythms, and in one way or another, the unexpected always finds its way in.
Prima di arrivare a Damanhur, sono sopravvissute poche routine nella mia vita. Ero in un periodo di demolizione delle prevedibilità. Lavarsi i denti due volte al giorno, quello sì. Ma, vestirsi la mattina, di solito sì, qualche volta no… More
images from Alchemical wedding in Colorado
26 Apr 2012 1 Comment
in events Tags: alchemical, clothing, Colorado, Damanhur, Steve Z Photography, wedding
Photos by Steve Z Photography
Timm’s custom grey cashmere and silk suit by Tartaruga Cavolo and Damanhurian artists
Sychronic wedding adventures, Ecstatic Dance and Damanhur in Colorado
17 Apr 2012 5 Comments
in events Tags: artisti, artists, Boulder, Damanhur, Denver, Ecstatic Dance, esoteric, esoterico, Fusion Factory, Guildwerks, Italy, marriage, matrimonio, Starhouse, tarocchi, tarot, Tonic Herban Lounge, wedding
It all began in the Temples of Humankind. I was the guide for a couple, Timm and Meredith, for their first visit to the Temples, and then they came to Ecstatic Dance at Damanhur, which I facilitate. They hosted me at their place in New York when I went to Omega last October, happy to have another contact with Damanhur after an enchanting visit.
Then, Timm contacted me months ago because he was asked to officiate a wedding for dear friends in Denver, and he wanted a special outfit for the occasion made by Damanhurian artists. I put him in contact with the right person and facilitated the order, with the effort of conversion from inches to centimeters and various Italian vocabulary for clothing measurements. A grey suit set in cashmere and silk, the perfect mix between eastern and western style. With great distrust in the Italian postal system after precious things have already been lost between Italy and America, I told him that I would hand deliver the outfit from Damanhur to Denver.
He enthusiastic about the idea, so I said, “If you help me to organize some events that I can do while I’m there, I’ll come!” Right away, we were activated. Timm introduced me to friends and friends-of-friends, until we had manifested a schedule of activity in Denver for the week before the wedding, all through Facebook. The organizers at the Fusion Factory for the Friday evening event hadn’t really heard of Damanhur until they met me online, did their research and put everything together: the art, music, film, invitations, in less than a month.
Wednesday evening, I facilitated an Ecstatic Dance session at Guildwerks, another Denver community art space, with a visual journey through the Temples of Humankind in video projection. The theme of the dance: union and synchronicity, seeing as how Amber and Mike, the bride and groom were present. Thursday, I went to Rhythm Sanctuary, the weekly ecstatic dance event at Denver, and there were more than 300 people there! Waves of joy and movement. Ahva, the founder of Rhythm Sanctuary, had followed the conversation on Facebook for our event organization, and she presented me as a Damanhurian that evening, announcing the Friday event. Like on Wednesday, many people came up to me after the dance to talk about Damanhur with interest and curiosity.
We were hosted at Muse’s place, and Michael came out from California to Denver for the Damanhur infused events. Muse and Michael are two friends of Timm and Meredith, and they all had met each other at Damanhur. So, in this beautiful house with Asiatic and gothic-violet decor, there was a kind of class reunion from their group at Damanhur.
Saturday, the wedding was held in a sacred space called “The Starhouse” in the Boulder hills. Consecrated land, round wooded structure designed with sacred geometry. Every tree was asked if it wanted to be part of the temple. Before the wedding, Timm was almost as anxious as the groom, and we went to Tonic Herban Lounge in Boulder, an oxygen bar with Atlantean paintings on the walls, where even the proprietor Mark was fascinated by Damanhur. We were nourished by healthy elixirs and delectable raw vegan desserts. While all the raw cacao from the dessert probably didn’t help Timm’s nerves, the aromatherapy infused oxygen did.
The wedding was conceived as an esoteric ritual, with dedicated texts and prescribed gestures, and the outfit made in Damanhur added value and magic. There was also a multicultural aspect, with the Mexican grandmother and the German one reciting prayers in their original languages. The close relatives offered blessings and strips of colored cloth placed over the hands of the couple. At dinner, planetary symbols on the candles indicated the tables for the guests, and each guest had a Thoth tarot card synchronically chosen. Mine was “Completeness.” To balance out all the spiritual seriousness, there was also a rock n’ roll side to it all. During the ceremony, the bride entered to an instrumental rendition of Guns n’ Roses’s “Sweet Child of Mine,” and after dinner, a live band played classics from the Beatles to Michael Jackson while we danced in a rhythmic pulse of celebration.
~
Tutto è cominciato nei Templi dell’Umanità. Ero l’accompagnatrice con una coppia Timm e Meredith per la visita nei Templi, e poi loro sono venuti alla Danza Estatica a Damanhur, che guido io. Mi hanno ospitato a casa loro a New York quando sono andata ad Omega in ottobre, felici di aver un ulteriore contatto con Damanhur dopo una visita incantevole... More
a poem about sewing
12 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in poetica Tags: artista, blanket, coperta, cucire, fili, light, love, seamstress, sewing, threads, universe, viaggiatrice, Vidracco
I realize that I am a seamstress,
along with all the other things that I am, and I am many.
my favorite ones: artist, dancer
student of life almost as much as teacher
healer, traveler, lover and catalyst.
I sew with threads of light, words
threads of breath, movement, codes and colors.
I sew with a pair of wooden chopsticks instead of metallic needles…
with the heartbeat directing the orchestra of the hands.
I sew just one thing: a blanket.
This blanket grows, covers my entire bedroom
wrapping around and warming up who is there.
expanding to the nucleo, over the entire territory
caressing and nourishing every leaf and ant.
then, beyond, it covers Vidracco, over the gardens and grandmothers,
the streets and sculptures, the watermill and apparently solid mountain.
beyond…Piedmont, the Alps, all of italy.
to the west over the oceans until the California coast.
toward Asia, Turkey, all the way to Thailand.
the entire planet covered with subtle threads of pure love.
beyond! the solar system, galaxies, universes
that I can’t remember anymore or even imagine.
with all of space covered, it expands through time,
until the beginning, which is only and still an end.
even here, the end comes to an end
and rebirth brings me to the first woven thread,
going back to the complete potentiality of every moment, every cell
the potential of action, creation, weaving a fabric of gold.
una poesia per cucire
mi sono resa conto che sono una cucitrice.
insieme alle altre cose che io sono, e sono tante. More
Another memory of Gabbiano, living in the moment
27 Mar 2012 4 Comments
in remembrance Tags: Damanhur, fretta, Gabbiano, gioia, hurry, joy, light, living in the moment, luce, presence, presenza, rush, Somachandra, vivere nell'attimo
Once I was at Somachandra, passing through between Terrazzatura devotional work and food shopping at Tentaty, or an appointment to verify my Tecnarcato program and a work meeting, or my cooking and cleaning turn at the nucleo and Meditation practices … anyhow, I was in movement and in a bit of a rush, with the day’s schedule scrolling in front of my eyes while I exited through the glass door and passed in front of the tables. Gabbiano was sitting there, back after a long absence. I stopped to salute him.
He looked at me with the most brilliant eyes and a smile that emanated peace and happiness. Time stopped for a moment, and all the hurry that was fogging over my mind disappeared. From his eyes, I felt the heat from the light of absolute presence. Gabbiamo was delighting in being alive, as I should have been if i weren’t so behind on emails. Here again, just a few minutes together, so dense that they transmitted the world to me. A way of being, living every moment with joy, celebration … while we are here, while we are together, here and now.
Una volta ero al Somachandra di passaggio tra la Terrazzatura e le spese a Tentaty, o la verifica Tecnarcale ed un incontro di lavoro, o il turni di nucleo e le pratiche di Meditazione … More
gratitude for Gabbiano
23 Mar 2012 2 Comments
in remembrance Tags: Damanhur, danza del fuoco, Dreams of Damanhur, Falco, fire dance, Gabbiano, lesson, lezione, performance, rito, ritual, telefono, telephone
Damjl. twilight hour. in the living room of the former nucleo Tesan. low light. leather covered sofa. seated with several New Damanhurians. a little distracted and anxious about the fire dance for the film Dreams of Damanhur that I was about to do immediately after the lesson with Gabbiano. In fact, I was already in costume, red skirt with dangling strips of cloth and performance makeup. Gabbiano treated the scene as if it were all status quo.
a ritual is like a telephone, he said. to call and communicate with the beyond, with the divine… he shared other thoughts, wisdom, cracked a few jokes, saying very little in the end. he wanted to emphasize this metaphor of the telephone with respect to rituals.
outside. Piazza del Nuovo Popolo. under a cloudy dark gray sky. preparation. a flurry of white gas and poi, spun off to remove the excess, fire fans, adrenaline, music, videocameras, guest fire dancer Marisa, the lighter … lit … go! fire in motion, blurred vision of golden illuminated faces, of fire reflected by the eyes. fire in the heart, fire of the soul.
the next day, during Falco’s Friday evening question and answer session with the guests, during his response to a question like, “As an artist, how do you find time for inspiration if you’re always so busy?” Falco spontaneously thanked us for the fire dance performance, saying that he had a creative problem to resolve, and while he was watching the dance, a solution arrived to him… thus illustrating to he guest that by participating in many events, one can also find useful ideas and inspiration in unexpected moments. nothing is wasted.
thinking about that night, I am very grateful for Gabbiano, who passed me a kind of key during his brief and focused lesson, with which I opened a dimensional door, whether or not I was aware of it. during the rituals to come for Gabbiano, to honor his luminous and profound soul, I hope he hears us, that his voice arrives to us like an infinitely precious telephone call.
Damjl. la sera ore blu. dentro il salone del ex-nucleo di Tesan. luce bassi. divano coperto di cuoio. seduta, con Nuovi Damanhuriani vari. un po’ distratta ed ansiosa…
memories of Damanhur Get
04 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
in poetica Tags: A citizenship, community, Damanhur, Damanhur Get, New Life, Pangea, ritual, temples
This morning, I am going to the Damanhur Get ritual for the Spiritual People of Damanhur, as representative of the Community Region Pangea. It seems like a lifetime has passed since the last time I went to Damanhur Get Sunday morning, as I am usually busy with Tiglio, my nucleo community, Sunday mornings being our time for working together on the land.
I remember when I had just arrived in Damanhur three and a half years ago, with the initial intention to stay here a year or two, learn and absorb as much as possible, then go back to America or continue traveling the world, find the right situation and potentially found a community. It was the epoch before the New Life project. When I expressed this intention, I heard responses like, “but that’s just not possible…no one has done something like that yet…people who live here as citizens join the School of Meditation and stay here a long time.” Being intolerant of limitations on principle, I was determined to find a way to have the experience I desired and the exchange that would be useful.
Soon after my arrival, one Sunday morning under the hot August sun in a clear and intense blue sky, I went to the Temples for Damanhur Get. In the Hall of Mirrors, surrounded by reflections of light from the candles and the chalices, sounds and singing. Prayer. The monks with lucid and focused eyes. I closed my eyes and went inside, beyond, into an empty space of listening, and I heard a simple message. A mysterious, wise, perhaps divine voice said to me, “You will be here for much long than you think.” Then, the letter ‘A’ appeared, incisive, almost visible. ‘A,’ as in Damanhurian A citizenship. Ah…no! Really? And with these messages, sinking into me like a seed rooted in fertile earth, I understood on many levels that I was at the beginning (or maybe only the beginning of a next phase) of an unimaginable adventure, something much bigger than me.
Then, a cascade of events that almost guided me more than I was guiding them, feeling aligned and at the same time nervous for all that was about to change… interviews with Husky for the new citizens program called “100 Citizens” which then became “New Damanhurians,” meeting with Testuggine, a Queen Guide at the time, talking with Nautilo, who helped me to understand many things and to correct the Italian in my letter of intention for A Citizenship, enough corrections to make it fluid and understandable, but not too many to seem strangely perfect coming from an American. “And the rest … is history.”
Oggi mattina vado a Damanhur Get … come rappresentante della Comunità di regione Pangea. Sembra che una vita è passata dall’ultima volta sono andata a Get domenica mattina, essendo di solito impegnata con il nucleo. More
Spiral in the snow
19 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in poetica Tags: colori, colors, Damanhur, DNA, landscape, Milte, neve, paesaggio, past lives, snow, spiral, spirale, vite precedenti
white. sparkles of light reflected like stars in a night without horizons. spiral under the snow. every step recalling me to the present moment. firm, stable, adequate support for moving always forward, on the ice, to the center, arrived – eyes closed, five breaths, then departure, exiting. everything around a landscape of nothingness, cancelled white and asleep. time is a vague illusion, and I am in another world, so different from the spiral of summertime illuminating the world within, memories with indescribable colors ignited by the sun, nostalgia for a forgotten lifetime – told by the dance of emotions and the birds who sing the score of my DNA. finished, salutation. another cycle closed, until the next one – always in ascension.
bianco. scintille di luce riflesse come stelle d’una notte senza orizzonte. spirale sotto la neve. More
A New Life journey at Tiglio
10 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in community life Tags: community, Damanhur, New Life, nucleo, Tiglio
