This time, for my Apprentice Befana sharing, I choose to communicate through an image.
It might seem like a banal image, but for me, there is an entire world behind this pattern of interlocking blocks on the ground that we contact almost every day at Damanhur. For me, they are the symbol of an emotional experience that I’ve been wanting to share for some time, although I hadn’t found the right occasion until now. Let’s see if the Apprentice Befana can transmit this feeling from a few years ago…
I had just come back to Damanhur after a long period in America. I was drifting through everyday life with open eyes observing everything with a deep sense of happiness and amazement. I am at Damanhur, at home. Here I am again, finally! Seeing things, seeing you. Touching you. Touching with the hands, the senses, without the digital or astral filters of distance. Everything was real, present, a tremendous gift.
I was walking through the Damjl parking lot, gazing downward with slitted eyes due to the brightness of the summer sun, and all of a sudden, I stopped. For the first time, I saw these interlocking blocks that I had ignored for so many years. I observed their uniform rectangular shape, with colors ranging from brick red to orange-grey. They – the blocks that is – started talking to me. Some had sweet voices. Others were more enraged. Each one reminded me that someone had put it there, someone who had worked up a sweat. I saw a vision of wheelbarrows full of blocks, emptied and filled up again. Every piece in its place, one after the other, gradually completing the covering on the ground.
I felt such a strong wave of emotion in my heart that tears came to my eyes. I was struck by how much love and effort was invested in building this parking lot ground cover, so simple, essential and taken for granted. I felt as if I were in the Temples of Humankind, in the Hall of Mirrors, with feet planted on the ground, neck craned and mouth agape, astonished by the stained glass dome above, appreciating every color, every piece of glass that had been traced, cut, broken, ground down to the perfect shape, covered with a strip of perfectly balanced copper tape, and bound in liquid metal, slipping and densifying.
In that moment, I understood. They are the same: the thousands of blocks underneath my feet and the thousands of glass pieces above my head. As above, so below. The only difference is that the glass is gazed upon and admired every day, and the interlocking blocks are hardly ever noticed. Although, they are the same because the love, attention and devotion that is in each piece is the same. I quickly started walking toward my office again, to avoid the embarrassment of having to explain why I was standing there crying in the middle of the parking lot at Damjl.
Sometimes, when the everyday efforts of constantly moving forward and building Damanhur start to weigh on me, and I feel tempted to stop, retreat, fly away with my imagination to a less demanding reality, I think of those parking lot blocks. I think of the anonymous hands that have placed them there in perfect right angles. I am strengthened by this image and the certainty that one day, every piece that has been built in whatever material will speak to someone who is listening.
Questa volta per la mia condivisione da Apprendista Befana, scelgo di comunicare attraverso un’immagine. Potrebbe sembrare un’immagine banale, ma per me c’è un mondo dietro questo intreccio di masselli che contattiamo quasi ogni giorno a Damanhur. Per me è simbolo di un’emozione che volevo raccontarvi da tempo, ma non trovavo l’occasione o le parole giuste. Vediamo se l’Apprendista Befana riesce a trasmettere questo sentimento da qualche anno fa… Continue reading