Happiness is only real when shared

I must have used this quote by Tolstoj from "Family Happiness"many a times. In the whole idea of God, community, self discovery, emotions, love - I have always found the concept of shared life ever so captivating. Having spent most of my teen-age years as a misunderstood-self-condemning little nerd, I discovered in the deep sense of community an incredible release of warmth and energy. Needless to say, those years of solitude taught me invaluable lessons regarding self-management and contentment under all type of circumstances. However, in as much as it taught me of to be well by my-self, it also showed me that with other(s) it is better, everything is better.

There are times when solitude and asceticism are still to be preferred and sought after - like fasting in preparation for an event which requires higher levels of commitment than our routine life - but on our day-to-day life having someone by your side caring and sharing, and loving and looking after is so precious. And for all this, I am truly grateful. Everything is more beautiful with you.

"I have lived through much, and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor--such is my idea of happiness. And then, on top of all that, you for a mate, and children perhaps--what can more the heart of man desire?" - from "Family Happiness" L.N. Tolstoj.

Grace

I am beginning to embrace that it is a big part of the maturing process in one's life to be willing to admit the things we have always been too fearful or afraid to speak out loud before. Like my dream to become a paediatrician for fear of stepping into a clique.
When I was in my first year at uni I read a book that spoke to a book that spoke to me in a very profound way, "What's so amazing about grace?"by Philip Yancey. From that moment I dreamt that had I ever had a little girl I'd call her Grace,there I said it! "GRACE is receiving freely something we could have never done enough to earn". Over the past few months I have realized more than ever that I am at the receiving end of grace. I have so much,besides from the Grace of God alone who sent His son to die for me even though he knew I could have never repaid him. In the Sound of Music,Maria sings "Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good". I am not sure I have,Maria, but God's grace has blessed me and I am grateful.

As You Really Are..

Typing on the notes of Giovanni Allevi, a young musical genious if you ask me, I am going through the emotions of the past few hours..of the past few days..the past few months..years even.. it all feels like a flow; an unstoppable, alternate flow which sometimes feels like a flood..at times like a dry river bank in the hottest season..sometimes its flow is nice,smooth,constant; others it is rough like a stormy sea..and I may feel like the boat that floats and sinks and sails and harbours..or feel like the river itself which, to people's not noticing, feels and sees and hears and cries and smiles and lives. Learning. Learning that even to the most righteous, intentions must be examined before expressing judgement on one's actions. Learning that the people we put the most expectations upon are the ones who, rather predictably, are most likely to fail those expectations and, viceversa, those we sometime overlook, may be the most suitable canditates to amaze us. There is a lovely analogy in the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun" where a rather odd lady tells the story of her being a little girl desperately looking for a ladybird for hours and hours until she fell on the grass, started to despair and eventually fell asleep. To much of her surprise, by the time she got up she was covered in ladybirds. We are often too busy looking for something that is right under our noses. Another really good line is in the follow up from "Bruce Almighty" when the "Noah" of the situation talks to God and God tells him that He does not answer to our prayers by giving us something other than what he has already provided for us, but rather by offering us situations which will enable us to take what we have asked for. It's only movies, they are only words, but I am beginning to learn to embrace whatever beautiful surrounds me in this unlikely beautiful world of ours...thus embracing the life which was not so freely given to me.

To Stay Focused...

...without ever depersonalising people,situations,variables around you. Staying true to what you believe whilst keeping interested and attentive to the issues and needs of those around you. To stay focused on the goal whilst keeping a 360 degrees view. That's my desire.

Tickled by a Gentle Soap Bubble

When my mother was still undergoing treatment, she wrote me a text message to encourage me throughout a time of great emotional and existentialist turmoil for me. Yap. How strange? She was sick and I was disconforted! Anyway. My phone broke the other day and I am now using an older phone where some dated messages were stored. The message read: "I love you. When one is serene and accommodating of other people's needs it means that you appreciate the gifts God gives." It didn't make much sense then. Now it is perfectly clear. Don't get cross; don't try to make justice for yourself; don't torture your mind with neverending "why's?". Love unconditionally. Love will bounce back at you as a gentle soap bubble, a soft breeze on a spring day, a lighthouse out at see at night.
(Matthew 13:1-23)

A Deeper Way of Loving

"How do we befriend our inner enemies, lust and anger? By listening to what they are saying. They are saying "I have some unfulfilled needs" and "Who really loves me?". Insted of pushing our anger and lust away as unwelcomed guests, we can recognise that our anxious, driven hearts need some healing. Our restlessness calls us to look for the true inner rest where lust and anger can be converted into a deeper way of loving.
There is a lot of unruly energy in lust and anger! When that energy can be directed towards loving well, we can transform not only ourselves but even those who might otherwise become the victims of our anger and lust. This takes patience, but it can be done."
Elsewhere he also says that patience it is not waiting for something out of our control to happen, like waiting for it to rain, but "Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are. We act like as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later or somewhere else. Let's be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand."

I found this quite inspirational and I thought I'd share it with you all. Words from my most cherished late author, Henry JM Nouwen, "Bread for the Journey".

How To Save a Life

I am a former theology student - now embarked upon a long journey of medical studies. In theory, I should know all there is to know about saving lives. This theme, concept, has been meaningful to me for a number of years. I wrote my first BA dissertation on the possible intersession between medicine and theology and I long to be living out those ideals in first person. When I wrote that paper, I quoted a simple, yet explicit, line from the movie "Patch Adams"; that movie and the real life character of Dr Adams have been a source of inspiration for me over the years. The protest against unfounded accepted stereotypes, not merely for argument's sake, but for the reinstatement and affirmation of sacrosanct humane and godly values such as compassion, unconditional love, kindness, overall justice. The quote is that when Patch Adams reminds his friend who is afraid someone may eventually die, even after receiving the necessary medical aid, to which he replies that a doctor's job is not to prevent death, but to improve the over-all quality of people's lives. Just today I have been pondering on the subject of suffering, death. Unfortunately or actually not that unfortunately after all, we cannot prevent death; death is part of life and I guess life would not be equally as valuable, precious, worth fighting for if we were immortal in this skin of ours. Nonetheless, we must strive to make it better, to make the most of what has been given to us not just as individuals, but as a whole of people associated by a common humanity. Saving lives is what doctors try to do day in day out, but ultimately I believe only God can truly save one's soul, hence their eternal life.

I have been wondering a bit recently over the gigantic internal changes that have been happening to me. In as much as I have tried to deny it for so long, I have grown harder, more cynical, less loving. I have loved someone so much that I guess all of the love I was capable of feeling has now combusted and now dedicating my life to other people's problems seems like a much more viable option. Caring for other people's children in order to avoid committing wholly to someone again and choosing to have children together; choosing to live in a tent not to pay a mortgage; saving lives in order to avoid facing my own.

"How to Save a Life" (The Fray)

Facing the Demons

When I was seven, a little girl found the skeleton of a homo-sapience lying on a beach somewhere along the Northern African coast. An archeology enthusiast back then, I was totally thrilled by the news and sat closely by the telly in order to see the presenter unveil this remarkable historical discovery. Little did I know at the time that putrefied skeletons are not much of a pretty sight and I spent the evening being terrorized by flashing images of the once cave man. At night, I reluctantly waved my parents good-bye, made my way upstairs and walked into the darkened bedroom. Lying in bed I kept on being haunted by those images I had seen earlier on the screen. I shivered, I was scared then, I vividly remember, I sat up in the middle of the bed, turned my wee side table lamp on and gave myself a little declaration about why I shouldn't have been afraid of a dead man. For a dead man cannot do me any harm; same reasoning went for beetles, who are too small compared to me, ghosts, insects, animals, monsters and all sort of creepy creatures. The same reasoning goes for most things still now. Guess in many ways Faith has helped me exorcise a lot of fears and made me a much braver person. Time changes us, man, doesn't it change us. I have now returned to an old reality, to the things I loved and I had forgotten I did, to the places I always liked, the mentality I could never embrace, the people I disagreed so much with, but never felt adequate enough to confront. Now a much older, hopefully wiser, woman I face the world with very little fear. It doesn't mean that I have the answers to everything, nor that I am fearless or invincible. It is just that with the light on, even in the middle of the night, it becames much easier to face monsters, demons, life.

Water Every Growing Seed

You have heard me say that journeys, and bus journeys especially, offer me an opportunity to reflect. Sometimes it is as shallow a thought as "did I take the chicken out of the freezer this morning" or "how about capers and black olives in the sauteed aubergines?"(I am a deep kinda lady, ya see)..sometimes I read a book, and totally get absorbed by it. Other times, I simply sit there, observing strangers' every move. I often wonder whether I have a 'stalker's strike' in my genes, I am a good observer of life or I am plain nosey. I sit there - normally on the luggage storage box - don't ask: I know I am weird.. Guess Freud would have something to say about that one too! I observe people coming in, people walking out, how they relate to the bus driver, how they smile, how they graciously squeeze in, how frantically they push their way in, how happy they look, how weary their eyes are, the boys listening to their i-pods out loud, the girls talking on their mobile phones. Last night the bus home was rather empty. I sat down, just on the chair near the entrance. At the next stop a seven year old, a five year old and a one year old boy in a pram got in followed by their young father. Shaved head, track-suit-bottoms, heavily tattooed arms, bitten nails, hoarse voice, unsteady pace. Sits the five year old, still wearing his school uniform (happy-faced because his daddy had just bought him a small bottle of pop and a chewing-gum with a sticker in it), places the pram by a group of senior men; the seven year old maturely makes his own way to an empty seat. The dad goes and sits at the back, engrossed in his text-writing. The youngest one is a little smiler: smiles at every face in his sight. Smiles a little more. The middle one observes the world around him, often calling for his father's attention. The eldest brother offers them both the attention they crave: experience has taught him that their father will not respond. He has seen him like this before. As soon as those boys get a little attention from us, mere spectators, their eyes brighten up ever brighter than they had before. Bright lads indeed; craving for an attention that they may never receive and may constraint them to follow the same path, the same self-destructive pattern, the same destiny. I wish they could see how wonderful they are. I wish they could make the most of the life that has been given to them. I have worked with children all around the world. More and less disadvantaged ones. It always saddens me when in a world of plenty, not all growing seeds are watered.

To Be Brought to the Light

Today, it is a wonderful day! This morning at 6 am (2 pm local time) my best friend Rie gave birth to their second child, Saku Luukas Sinivirta ... ok, ok, I may be biased, but you've gotta admit this baby looks gorgeous and incredibly sweet!!! Mommy and baby are well and daddy and big bro Riku were happy to meet the new addition to the Sinivirta family! So proud of you guys. Love you more than words can tell. Auntie, Ivonne xx
"To be brought to the light" is how the Italians call birth. Never paid much attention to it until I watched "Under the Tuscan Sun"..beautiful expression, isn't it?

Anger MaNaGemenT!?! Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Nosing about a number of other blogs, I have noticed that a few of us have been having issues of anger recently. Alongside that, I have also discovered that the lovely Mrs Heasely used to be an "anger management therapist". Ever since I moved to England, I am a changed woman. My friends and neighbours may tell you different, but I truly believe I've come a long way from my fiery, quick-tempered days. Maybe it's got something with God shaping my character, maybe it's all about maturing, growing up, or possibly I have acquired something of that beautiful "English phlegm" as the Italians call it.. together with that, however, I also seem to have acquired an irresistible urge to complain about everything wrong and stump my feet at injustice. Prime example of this is yesterday. I rang up my bank about a week ago to make an appointment with the bank manager to discuss the arrangements related to closing my account when I am gone. 1 o'clock pm on Tuesday 12th June, we established. So at 12.50, I am there, firmly determined not to be late. I cue up at the custumer service desk to be announced to the manager I had an appointment with. The custumer service fresh-faced young lad looked at me blank and politely gave me the same answer he had been giving everyone: "Please take a sit, a customer advisor will be with you shortly". First of all, I had made an appointment so that I wouldn't have to wait together with all the 18 year old foreign students who have only just landed at Manchester airport, hungry, inexperienced, jet-legged and not very fluent in English as the alleged thick Mancunian blond prison-warden-like bank manager bosses them about shouting at them louder and slower ('coz that way they will certainly understand better) ... together with all the old ladies with thousands of penny coins to be counted .. I am sitting there, tapping my right foot on the lilac coloured dirty carpet, drumming my fingers on the table, starring in the empty space, turning my head a heck of a lot, puffing a lot, pulling weird faces and throwing angry looks at every customer that goes before me.. after all, I had booked an appointment!!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! Getting up off the chair, walking up and down, cuing up again to speak to the same clueless guy who gives me the same answer again, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, I am going insane, 12 minutes, 20 minutes, my temperature is raising, I can feel it, raaaahhh. 21 minutes later the manager calls me in to then leave me with the only person who knows what she is talking about in that branch - an unassuming young customer advisor who has always impressed me for her humble professionalism. I am out in 3 minutes. She tells me what to do and I am happy again. I suddenly don't feel like killing the patronising blond manager anymore. Does this make me a rage-aholic?

Spiraling into Costant Universal Flux

Remember good old uncle Heraclitus? Despite the terrifying nastiness of my classical Greek tutor in school, the woman who made three years of my life an utter misery, I have always manifested a respectful fascination for the ancient Greeks and their philosophical efforts. I don't remember a great deal about Heraclitus really, but his Πανθά ρέϊ (Pantha Rei, apologies to the Greek scholars here present, but I don't have a spell check for Greek characters..) everything changes, everything flows, the universal flux (as some have interpreted it), is a concept that has stayed with me and has acquired increasing significance over the years. At a youth camp few weeks before I left for England and Bible college, a newly met friend gave me a passage of Scripture from Isaiah which loosely translated is "You will set forth with joy and return in peace". At the time, that verse gave me a lot of encouragement because somehow I felt like as if God himself was commissioning my departure and sealing a pact of constant vigil and protection over my experience and development. I look at the past five years and I can so very definitively see that. I left home aged 19, with a great deal of passion, zeal, enthusiasm and, yes, overpowering excitement and blissful happiness. However, I was very much like a caterpillar.. I felt ugly, unworthy of love, crooked,inexperienced, unfinished, arrogant in her ignorance, strong of her smallness, overwhelmed by possibility, scared by opportunity, incredulous of dreams. That ever changing, moving, passing of time forces that caterpillar to shake, shiver, evolve..I wonder if caterpillars actually ever wonder if all that pain is worth it in the end..how many times even when people around us encourage us by giving us a picture of what all the hardship will be "worth in the end", it is still hard! Five years later is still 'me', just an adult version of me. Despite the trials and difficulties, the joys and the sorrows, the good, the bad and the damn right ugly, it is still I, still the ugly caterpillar, now enabled to spread my wings to fly. Many times have I complained over the past five years why had I been endowed with the gift to fathom the possibility of flight, a big blue sky to fly, but no ability to actually fly; how many times have I actually felt that my wings had been cruelly plucked out by some unkind giant..what I had not yet realised is that I was still a caterpillar and my wings had not yet developed enough to fly! "Every thing changes, everything flows", and now grown, reinforced, changed and hopefully matured, I venture back to the parental nest as a daughter, as an adult, as a woman.

Moving back to Italy six weeks from tomorrow, can you believe it?

Changing the World over a Cup of Coffee

Predictable. Tired of reading my blog for the past 8 months, you will all be expecting an article on fairtrade. Wrong. Or, at least, partially wrong. Last night I came home early, trying to rest my voice and recover from this terrible laryngitis. As you do, I thought I'd treat myself to a cup of caramel macchiato from Starbucks (small,skinny, no cream, of course!). I have had issues with Starbucks last year, before their fair trade choice, Estima; I did not pay enough attention to understand their "fairer option".. Starbucks is an American multinational with a gigantic turn over each year - let's say that life as Mrs Starbucks must be pretty pampered! As such, we are talking money, not ethics. Ethical consumerism is often, in my opinion, a contradiction in words. Nonetheless, public pressure on coffee shops is the evident proof of how the individual can, collectively, impact society in a positive way. Mr Starbucks charged me £3 for a small cup of coffee - that's roughly five coffee grounds, half a cup of skimmed milk, a splash of caramel and some hot water..obviously that three quid needs to pay for the girl at the till, the lad who wrote on the plastic cup, the lady who actually made me the drink and the young chap who is sweeping the floor around me..that's not to count the landlord who owns the place, the suppliers, the energy suppliers, the coffee growers, the shipping company and, of course, some profit for Mr Starbucks - after all, it's his business we are talking about! But this discussion will be for another time. Perhaps, just give a little thought to the coffee growers who has never even tried a cup of coffee and gets paid £3 a week (best possible scenario). But that's for another time.. What I wanted to draw you attention upon is that as I was about to pay for my coffee, I noticed a couple of charity boxes for the Lymphoma association. Isn't it bizarre how much more sensitive we become to issues when they touch our lives personally? I felt like a hypocrite. Nevertheless, if it wasn't for cancer research associations such as this, funded exclusively by people's generosity, my mom may not be here today. So when you buy a fairtrade cup of coffee, or a charity wrist band, or give spare change to someone..you are virtually changing the world. Just think.

An Ache of the Heart

Dear fellow bloggers,
Considering that a number of you have never even met me in person, I feel like I owe you all some explanations.

First of all apologies for Friday's depressing post. I am not a compulsive winger. I am generally an incredibly bubbly and happy person. I wake up every morning (most days) with a big grin of joy on my face; I don't really walk: I tend to bounce a lot. I laugh rumourously (my wee sis is so embarrassed of my 'heartily' laugh). I am honest; I am outspoken. One of my ex-boyfriends always used to say that for all my love for talking, when it comes to emotions, feelings, I needn't really have to say a word because my face and my eyes in particular are like a mirror to my soul; guess that you could say that 'what you see is what you get' with me. Throughout life's heart aches, hard times and disappointments, I have been renown for lifting my head up and carrying on. However, the last six months have thrown a lot at me, more than I sometimes think my heart can bear. I am bubbly, in-your-face, self-confident (cocky?!?!), but it doesn't mean that I don't hurt!!!!
Since my upheaval first started, I feel like I have made steady progress; I feel like I have re-discovered a passion for Life in all its fullness, rolled up my sleeves again and continued to strive. Nonetheless, behind that self-motivation, aspirations, optimism, Faith and dreams, there is a very fragile heart. Despite all the gains, I walk about the streets feeling constantly bereaved, lost. My mom is doing a great deal better; we are now waiting for the results from her final tests to see how well she has responded to treatment. Despite not getting into med school first time around, I have been offered to do an Mph in pharmaceutical research which will be contributing greatly towards my future medical studies; with the loss of my uncle, I have seen God's comfort being generously poured over my auntie and family. In feeling rejected by the person I thought I loved the most in this world, I have been hurting a lot but I am also experiencing a surreal dispensation of divine grace : I have chosen not to beg, not to be miserable, not to be nasty, but to do right by and keep on loving that person unconditionally (even when that means to get nothing in return or to occasionally and involuntarily be trampled over emotionally) I have good friends; a job; a home; family, clothes to wear and food to eat; I have Faith. . But I guess we have all been there - such is life and I will soon be back to full strength, blogging about music gigs, humanitarian enterprise, happiness, movie reviews, holidays. My only concern was that I did not want to 'bottle it all up', pretending that everything is alright whilst feeling subconsciously and emotively shattered, exhausted. That's why I blog. Writing is a cathartic expression of my soul. Often the expressing itself, represents the cure. Other times your thoughts inspire me to be a better person, to love others more and also to love myself a bit better. SO, apologies for the whining and please, do keep on reading and commenting, even when I write a lot of bull! Your honesty may help to keep me sane!!!!!

Stuck in a Moment...

3.37 am. I came home early tonight, even skipped youth (so out of character for me to dishonour my commitments), opted for a relaxing night in and the opportunity to catch up on some long yearned sleep. Vain efforts, of course. Chris Martin’s words from “Fix You” are tormentingly resounding in my head, yet nothing seems to be able to fix me. After three chamomile teas, a hot bath, two movies, prayer and endless tears go and explain to my old pastor back in Naples that Christians don’t have trouble sleeping! Of course, there is something profoundly calming and peaceful about living in the knowledge of God’s care and protection (Psalm 5 springs to mind ‘in peace I will lay down; and in peace shall I sleep because you, oh Lord, make me rest in safety’) Nevertheless, this truth does not change our human condition. As real people living in a real world, religious and non-religious people alike experience an often painfully tearing dualism. Don't take this harshly, but I am not looking for answers and empathetic support. Guess I am simply trying to articulate what is clouding my blessed, wonderful life. Baring my soul, feeling as naked and vulnerable as a desperate woman bent on her knees, sobbing and crying in the middle of the street at night as her mascara is running down her face and a malevolent cold breeze is blowing her fine dress, which feels like dirty rags, away. There is no pity in that wind, so she feels yet the cool breeze is a wispy awakening call of an inner sense of Hope that speaks Life even in the lowest pits. That's what tonight feels like.
I first bought the album X&Y, which includes the song 'Fix You', around about the same time I moved to Manchester. I had only just graduated and I felt on the top of the world. I was an idealistic day dreamer who believed that if you work hard and honestly and honour God in all you do, life will be good. I suppose you could say that I haven't changed an inch over the past two years. Despite an increased sense of cynicism and sarcasm, a natural defence mechanism perhaps, I so desperately want to believe that 'there must be more than this'. For all the failiures, I want to learn to stand up again more and more quickly; for all the disillusionment, I want to become even more loving; for all the tears, I will seek to smile my heart out; I will learn to continue to love even what is lost, because it is only things which break beyond repair. On the contrary, hearts and emotions can be mended; therefore I shall persue unconditonal Love; for all the sleepless nights, I will post about it - express my fears, insecurities, self-perceived sense of failure and persue Beauty, pant for Grace.

*At the top of the page, Salvador Dali "The Persistence of Memory"(1931)
On the left, an iconic image of Sofia Loren in Vittorio De Sica's "La Ciociara" (1960) based on a wonderful novel by Alberto Moravia.

51 days,11 hours, 42 minutes and 20 seconds

...to the Big Day, 100th Post and 5000 Ways to Change the World! ...

This is my 100th post! I have written a lot - mainly gibberish, but also a lot of outpouring of my little soul and introspective analysis, helped by your inspirational comments. One of the evident outcomes of this is that I know to be nothing but convetional, so I choose not to write a commemorative article on blogging. Instead I would like to send you all an invitation.
In 51 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes and 20..ops 19 seconds now, it is the BIG DAY (aka my 24th birthday) - the 1st of July for your diaries, thanks. The day however is "big" for a number of reasons:
1. I was born on that day: a little respect, would you mind?
2. Viva the Smoking Ban! England will celebrate the first day of SMOKING FREE PUBLIC BUILDINGS!!! Yuppy!!! Thank God: no more concerts, dinners, pubs and clubs filled with deadly and stinking fumes! Alleluja!
3. It will be my first "Random Acts of Kindness and Senseless Acts of Beauty" themed birthday.
It basically consists of this: whether you were planning to or were not remotely thinking about being kind enough to buy/make me a present, then, don't. Instead, in the likes of "Pay it Forward", do something good and beautiful to make three people's world, day, life...well...better. Whether it involves buying a homeless person a cup of tea, donating money to charity, giving blood, telling someone how special they are, walk instead of driving or wherever your creativity and kindness takes you, do it! The sky is the limit! Sure enough I shall be reminding you of this initiative closer to the time meanwhile, the title of this post is how long you have to think about how to make the world a better place on my birthday! Call it a "Hippy Birthday Meme Tag!"

An Arabian Night

Back, I am back, I am back! After a brief pause from the blogworld I am back with the tales of one of the best nights out of the past few years.
We change; we grow; we mature and evolve, but I believe that deep within we all crave for an unaltered desire to be at peace with oneself, with the grown-ups we have become and to still laugh wholeheartedly, like little toddlers. I think that is what Sunday was all about. Despite having had a late one the night before (simply to accommodate my friend's urge to watch Spiderman 3), I woke up early to a beautiful sunny day, went for a short-lived jog, had breakfast, went to church, talked to people, had lunch, preached to a lovely group of senior citizens (a captive audience of fifteen 90 odds!). Went to the pub to watch the Chelsey-Arsenal match (even cheered Arsenal for the first time in my whole life! - congratulations, Man Utd!), leisurely walked to a coffee shop for some tea, had an Indian in Rusholme, then headed to the local Arab cafe for some mint tea. We did not have a single drop of alchol yet were as giddy as one can be - we even got told off by the owner..it was like being back in second grade! Class. Drinking mint tea throughout the night. I suddenly felt like an adult, like a proper little person yet with comparable energy, laughter and joy to that of a little child who does not worry or reminisce about yesterday and has no fear of tomorrow, who at the core of her innerself knows her blessed state. Indeed I am truly blessed.

**thanks to Titi', Lily, Dr Cipolla and Stefano!** the girone of return in London, babe!**

You Can Never Hold Back Spring

"You Can Never Hold Back Spring" is a simply wonderful song by Tom Waits. I was listening to it yesterday morning in the car, on the way back from Cambridge, shortly after my friend informed me of Lindsey's sudden departure. I was devastated even though I never met her in person..I felt my friends bereavement and pain, which painfully added upon my own grief and suffering for all the heart ache I have gone through over the past few months. Paradoxically, all around me looked so beautiful. The sun was high in the sky; the flowers in bloom and even the birds in the air were singing. A huge contrast with my contrite and overcast heart. Like as if the angels were rejoicing whilst I was in outer despair because I could not see beyond my own pain. C.S. Lewis wrote that "Pain is God's megaphone to a deaf world"... Through my pain, Tom Waits reminded me of what I think God would want to wisper in my ear: despite the harshness and devastation of the icy cold winter, spring can never be held back, neither can the re-birth of joy and wholeness a broken soul so desperately longs for. Spring will be back, eventually.

'You can never hold back spring', Tom Waits (introduction to Roberto Benigni's "The Tiger and the Snow", 2005)

The Pursuit of Beauty

The spring season is upon us and, despite the expected sprees of cold weather, the days are getting longer, the birds are singing and the daffodils are in blossom. All this idyllic imagery inspires me and reminds me of how artists from the past expressed the vibrant bloom of life that occurs at this time of the year. I am Italian and of course the first picture that comes to mind is La Primavera, the Spring, by Botticelli. From there my mind trail takes me to the Venus - a symposium of eternal, ethereal beauty. In his Symposium, good old Plato identified the keys of ideal beauty in the context of love, attraction and attractiveness. It's a beefy piece of work (especially if you've gotta translate it from ancient Greek..), but it has always stimulated me to consider and reconsider the concept of Beauty. Following my previous post, a number of you have raised the question of what defines beauty - a concept that, despite the apparent homogenization of standards ( ei: everyone aspires to resemble the cover page models from fashion magazines) it's actually as varied as the colours of a cubist painter's pallet! The Italians say, "Il mondo e' bello perche' e' vario", the world is beautiful because it is varied, and thank God for that: it is different tastes and preferences that make life interesting and enables us to establish human contact with people who will like,hate, love us. It always astounds me to see how different cultures perceive a range of physical traits. Like the Brazilians and the Africans who love their women's big buts whilst us Europeans often starve ourselves in fear that our bum may 'look big in this'. Or the Far East Asian fascination for prominent noses and here we are willing to pay anything to have our noses made smaller..go figure! Whatever the circumstances, we all appear to conform by a set of aesthetic standards, whether we would like to confess it or not. My cultural background has imposed onto me from a very young age that I should pursuit to be slim, ideally measuring 90-60-90, the 'perfect' hourglass measurements (think Sofia Loren, Monica Bellucci, Gina Lollobrigida), to look pristine and colour coordinated at all times. In as much as I have always tried to escape from aesthetic compromise, I can't help but feel the pressure. In as much as I accept myself for the person I am and the way I look, I keep on wishing I was better, looked better, sounded better...
Expectations can play a nasty game. In an old article on jealousy I quoted Joseph Addison about how it is the fear of not being reciprocated by the ones we love that makes us insecure. Insecure about ourselves, what we wear, how long is our hair, how firm our butt, how full our lips are and so on..Advertising campaigns do not help either as they make a living out of our insecurities..
But without me rambling on for much longer, what do you think defines beauty? and is there a universally accepted 'ideal beauty'?

'Go, Conquer the World With A Towel!'

As a follow up from my last post, I realised that my most recent entry lacked of substantial depth - ye, right Ivonne, you wanna change the world, but how exactly? Last night I was catching up with the news. Apparently yesterday the people of Northern Ireland and the world witnessed history. The leaders of two antagonistic extremist parties sat down together in the same room to plan a better future for their country. As I was watching that, I couldn't help but feel patronised about a condescending piece of news and vague promises I feel like we have heard before... In his most recent entry,Wiggy mentioned the apparent lack of forgiveness and Christian attitude which could be potentially jeopardising the political reconstruction process within the N.Irish context. Also yesterday a group of infuriated university students from Rome protested against Fausto Bertinotti, historical leader of the communist party in Italy, in contestation of his false promises and his failure to stick by the ideals that got him into power in the first place. The caricature on the right (which allow me to say, does not massively differ from the original..) depicts Bertinotti, a man who portraits ideals, values, power which are, the more I think about it, like dust in the wind..fragile,imperfect and failing. Parallel to this, I have been reading up the Naked Pastor's sermon from last week-end about how, in front of the failure of human philosophies, secular theories, religion and scientific discoveries, God's perfection exceeds them all by far (Psalm 119:96)
John Newton's familiar lyrics are piercing my mind and heart this morning.

'Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now I am found

Was blind but now I see! '

The author obviously knew that beyond physical slavery, we all are or we have been slaves to our own consciences, selfishness, vices, sins, fears. I am often astounded by the many radical and life changing paradoxes about Christianity. The poor who end up be
ing the richest; the humble who shall be lifted up; the paradox of being blind when you have perfect sight and to be able to really see even if you are blind.. The more I think about wanting to change the world, the more I realise that Jesus oughts to be my icon and inspiration. He acted out what some would call, "an invisible revolution" where people's lives, cultures and societies were radically transformed by a touch on the hand, a communal meal with wrong-doers and a washing of the feet of a bunch of dirty, illiterate and quick tempered fishermen. "Go, and conquer the world with a towel" is a brilliant command which masterly encompasses the essence of Christian 'revolution'. Unfortunately, it ain't my creation. John Glass, the top man in Elim in the Uk, preached this on my first day at Bible College.. five years later, I am beginning to understand the power of the paradoxal truth of Christianity more and more. Beyond philosophy, religion, politics, science,theories, I believe, the essence of Christianity is still the key to world change. Go and change the world not with a war, a cruisade,a big slogan, but with humility, kindness, compassion, grace, Love. (Of course, shout if you must!)