great compassion and great suffering

templeHere is one of my favorite sketches from China. The Buddhist temple that my great-grandmother founded. It was converted to military barracks by the communist regime for a period of time, then restored to its previous function as a sacred space of service and chanting, presence and compassion.

“breathe in the hardship and pain of others and gain liberation of the spirit”

It reminds me of my origins and mission.



Today. Damanhur Year 39° day 3. Quaglia new year day 2.

Nia! You are so luscious and good, I am grateful to be in your community embrace again! Fire and Air. ferocity and joy. tears and sunshine. Somehow I always seem to be surrounded by beautiful women: this time, elders and a pregnant mother, like-minded community, from cellular to global, body wisdom alive at Dance Space in Ashland, Oregon.

recupero serata giovedì, all caught up until I miss another one this Thursday driving south to San Francisco again… so many delights in the coming month! reports to come.

at the Imagewellsprings, quiet non-festival time, under a tree, pranatherapy – flower essence healing trade with Julie Heather, met in ‘random’ conversation… yes, it’s just a coincidence that I met someone with my childhood name while returning to the womb in the hot water last night nude at the lithia baths… every birthday, remembrance of my origins. stellar contract signed in starlight, dive-bombing into birth outside Cleveland Ohio, then midwest to Texas… a long way from the horizon with two suns.

Falco. Popolo.

FalcoI smile, because somehow I feel you closer than ever… I see you in the eyes of my spiritual sisters and brothers, the intensity and presence of your gaze gleaming from pairs of eyes so diverse from one another, always shining. I laugh, because the divine and human sense of humor that you always cherished is alive in the words that are shared and the feeling in the air, the lightness of the soul flowing though it all, the highs, the lows, the waves and planes. I dance, because it’s all a celebration, of your intensely full lifetime, every moment saturated with creation, action, magic, Temples and dreams, of our interwoven and interconnected lives, living Popolo reawakening and expressing itself, the wisdom and centeredness of the sages and elders, the enthusiasm and purity of the youth, the playfulness and velocity of the children. Artists, warriors. Symphony in movement, in time. Even if it’s easy to cry these days, if you were to alchemically analyze our tears, you would find emotions full of love, color, vitality and strength. With gratitude, con te sempre.

Sorrido, perché in qualche modo ti sento più vicino che mai… Ti vedo negli occhi dei fratelli e le sorelle, l’intensità e la presenza del tuo sguardo brillando da occhi diversissimi, sempre luminosi. Continue reading

radically inclusive video montage

I clicked the option in iMovie that makes thumbnails of all the video clips in my library. As I was watching them, I was moved to see how many events fade from memory over time.

I was thinking if in the end, I were to edit together a video montage of highlights from my life, I would have a hard time selecting and cutting footage. How do I decide? The everyday moments, sweeping the floor, hammering, preparing tea in the morning, are they less significant than the ceremonial ones and oaths? Is there less action in the silence and harmonization than in the shows and Popolo celebrations? I would leave it all in.

nailsI think I would just increase the saturation a little during the rituals, the elaborate and spontaneous ones, and turn up the red hue for the dances too. Let’s see how many times different scenes in costume and makeup reappear—they are rituals too, of beauty, transformation, joy.

I would slow motion the most firepressing moments to dilute them, transform even those into a dance. The unstoppable tears and fears, those of stage fright, when in the wings, courage negotiates to compensate for preparation, and I feel the hand of the first Questio pushing me from behind.

I closely observe the order of operations after the alarm clock: putting on the personal self again, then prayer, bracelet on the head and a sip of prana charged water, pausing on the card of the day. I take note of how many times the slippers placed in a ‘T’ before sleeping really brought fortune the next day.

Let’s fast forward through the depressive phases, flat grey differentiating itself with contrast adjustment, and add a filter to soften the most furious and manic peaks.

Go in for a close-up on the most beautiful exchanges, emotions and gazes, whispering of poetry in other languages, heartfelt stories that trigger a fade out into flashback, obliterating every geographic and temporal distance.

Turn up the volume for the songs and the birds, and activate the subtitles at the misunderstandings.

Where is the temperature control? Can’t I heat up that first winter under the snow in Perugia, or turn down the humidity for the sweaty summer adventures?

With videocameras from different angles, I see things that I have never seen before: unobserved shooting stars, things that were lost, princessthings that escaped, things that were thrown away but anyhow continuing a trace of existence in the trash heap. All the invisible help received—if I could see it now, I would never feel abandoned or alone.

I add a golden filter to every gift created and exchanged. The moments of totality in the creation, writing and dreaming, painting and traveling, depicted in Miyazaki style animation.

As director of this work of art, the most important step is tying the last scene to the beginning, because every resolution of the plot brings us to a sequel, another episode.
breakfastHo cliccato un’opzione nel programma iMovie sul computer e si sono messi in fila tutti i videoclip che c’erano nella mia biblioteca. Mentre li guardavo, mi emozionava vedere quanti eventi svaniscono dalla memoria…

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my life

termenow 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
with gratitude for the spectrum of emotion
every feeling from fury to ecstasy
lived fully.
I leaves traces of creations, writings, few possessions.

fire at the Open Temple

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.

dance freedomdid 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…” Continue reading