Open up lives, stories of different eras and morals. Days of the hunt, the green of the leaves, pines strong and centred. Animals, bearers of messages and companionship, nourishment. Sacred alliances. Rhythms of nature. Encounters and ecstasy. Silence. Fire. Reading stones and clouds. Stars speaking in winks. Codes in the flowers, in the colors of clothing that identify: Roles. Relations. and every emotion is truth because every gesture, every word comes from the spontaneous purity of being. Gold in the rays of the sun touching the fertile land. Silver in the reflection of the moon. Fire concentrates all eyes toward a great unified vision, of life and victory.
written on Mount Shasta, California, 2 September 2013
Aprire le vite, racconti di epoche e morali diversi. Giorni di caccia, la verde delle foglie, i pini forti e centrati… Continue reading →
not all spiritual beings fly. some are grounded, really rooted with their feet heavy like rocks and hands colored with earth, because they need to see the planet and its inhabitants from close-up, not from the sky. with open eyes, beaming like rays of sunlight through glass, coloring inner vision, lines, shades of red and yellow. the poetry of forms in matter, in the imperfections. with heart radiating the rhythm and pulsations of blood… they need to be so close that the exhalations of divine breath create fog on the window that looks out to the field where animals live according to their instincts, fog on the camera lens, on the contact lenses, on the skin in contact. bodhisattva, welcome to our world. the wind of your breath – slow as the ocean – brings messages, sighing together with the waves of human events, small and pretty like stones, rounded and carried by the river to the ocean with the water always in movement, nuances of eternal blue.
for Piovra Caffè, written in the Esalen Art Barn, September 2013
gli esseri spirituali non volano tutti. alcuni sono atterrati, ben fondati, con i piedi come rocce e le mani colorati di terra… Continue reading →
blue light color of the goddess, dissolving all resistance, indicating the way out, toward victory.
the blue of the sky saturated with imaginative stories, a cultivated frequency nourishing the flight of the birds, flying in spirals and chasing the sun in a synchronized flock. moving together is an instinct faster than thought.
the color of the sphere that illuminates the path, along it, you find the answer, not the one written in words so simple to decode, but those sung by the imprints in the sand, in the memories that align in a synchronized dance. the nocturnal light growing from the deep of night toward the dawn in imperceptible increments, the moon, the stars from asleep to awakening.
dawn. icy air and visible breath. tree branches that extend in a tangle across the colors of the sky, a backdrop of pink, orange, yellow, light blue. sparse clouds. Damjl. I climb. salute. sun painting the columns of the Open Temple with a golden sheen. breathing. waiting. another beginning of another day, but this time, it’s different. I feel it. it’s different from all the other days already past, traced, burned and forgotten, because this morning, divine in an everyday way, I make a precise choice to love life. every moment, every being that accompanies me along this not eternal but anyhow continuous voyage…continuing until sunset, when everything slips backwards toward the unknown of night with a sigh and silent smile. earth, moon, dancing with the sun, rhythm of the universe constant and always new.
un mattino come tutti gli altri
alba. aria gelida e respiro visibile. rami dell’albero che distendono in grovigli attraversando i colori del cielo… Continue reading →
Gargano. your waters have a special vibration of some kind, an almost audible melody. I can feel it when I wade into the gentle waves, sand dispersing in an underwater cloud with every step, and I know that it’s not just the purifying effect of the sea, but something invisible, a history to be told, sweet, subtle, feminine magic. floating free without destination, I look around and gaze at a heavenly sky with Pangolinesque clouds, Orango diving from the rocks, Civetta Bianca close to the water’s edge chatting with Pellicano, Goral searching for a lost child’s slipper, a strategically positioned sandcastle constructed by the kids. and in the distance, blurry without my glasses, the green tent with the yellow flag and the pink one, transforming a summer scene into a territory time-space, one that is ours, conquering it with intention, directed thought, the will to return – in this synchronic squad with tribal numbers – to a kind of purity. enchantment. enthusiasm. a living people, creative, ignited by love, sun, life.