breathe in.

It’s time to inhale.

So… I admit. I’m exhausted. Not like in a totally heavy or empty sort of way. More like drifting into stillness at the tail end of a so-many-months long exhale of uninterrupted movement, play, service, love. Fire, offerings, performances, camera lenses, gazes, in the temples and under the starry night sky open fields. So much dance. Dancing in every way. On every occasion. Birth, death. Equinox. Two steps forward, three steps back… breathing deep and flying right over the obstacles and the letting go.
Magnetizing the tappi.
Italian driving adventures. Velocity, autostrada. Torino. Ivrea. Milano Malpensa after midnight.
Going to new places, ancient ones too, coming home. Healing, dreaming, building. Making, art. Orienting, trees. Harvesting.
Cleansing. Alchemy. Ritual magic. From Solstice and back again, from one full moon to the next. Every week, repeat.
Translating, everything.
Writing, in stellar and human languages. So many voices and stories insisting on coming through the filter of my body, mind. voice.
Connecting the dots… communicating, with everyone, the Dutch TV personality wandering around our kitchen and interrogating me about my love life and future children, all the hundreds of people who ask me the same questions about how long I’ve been here and how I did I end up here in the first place and what do I do and what is my ‘typical’ day like and and where on earth am I from anyway? …
Escaping. Sun-bathing.
And now … it’s the darkness of new moon and time to breathe in again. Refill and filter through. In solitude, in the shadow of the mountains, in the starlight always nourishing me.



memories of Damanhur Get

chalicesThis 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 longer 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. Continue reading

the Temples: home sweet home

when I travel around the world and come back to Damanhur,
I don’t feel like I’ve really come back…
even if I return to all the daily rituals and mechanisms of connection,
forehead to tree trunk, plates in the dishwasher, recuperating meetings,
saluting Horus from the gazebo next to the Open Temple with a wink…
until the moment I enter into the halls of the Temples.
a deep sigh, finally… home.
a wave of fresh air that penetrates the skin,
refreshing the muscles and caressing the bones.
finally I can breathe, let go, really breathe.
not a breath that descends to the sternum
and rises back up in a fit of anxiety,
but the breath that cleanses the entire universe,
beginning with the spheres on the altars in the chambers within,
the small, hidden ones full of brilliant treasures
veiled, sometimes brought out and shown,
when the planets and stars are aligned and friends with each other.
finally, protection, a bubble of pure time and atmosphere
defending me from the disharmonious radiation and confused thoughts outside.
underground. salvation. blessing. sensation of electric soul-belonging.
the rock walls, the living sculptures, every figure and symbol speaks to me,
sings a love song to me, divine music that guides the eternal invisible dance.

quando sono in giro per il mondo e torno a Damanhur… Continue reading