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".

Scarlet

I often find myself reminiscing about my childhood. Maybe because it was a carefree, happy period of my life – the best dare I say. Possibly because deep down I am disappointed with the way I have turned out to be as an adult…do I really match up to the woman I dreamt of becoming as a little girl. Maybe I just find it hard to accept the fact that, in reality, I don’t seem to have changed that much. Tonight, for instance, I feel lonely and rejected like that one time when I walked over the lizard all the boys were playing with, thus ending the ‘game’, I guess. They hated me at that particular moment and made sure I knew about it too. Fair enough everything was soon forgiven and forgotten, but their refusal upset me a great deal. I remember I cried for hours…even ended up vomiting on my parents costume-made silk sate. They weren’t impressed either but, like today, they were understanding of me. Parents. Shortly after the lizard episode, we were climbing up trees again, but that period in between my peers rejection and one of them knocking on our front door whilst the others were waiting on the landing trying to look the least mischievous they could (useless attempt must say..), hurt me, like this self perceived distance is hurting me now. Even though we are not climbing up trees anymore, I am still waiting for you to knock on our front door, hold my hand again and hear you say, ‘She is my best friend!” – with pride, joy, nostalgia, awe.

“Teach a child the way that he should walk, and even when he will be old, he shall not depart from it” Proverbs.

Farewell

Farewell it's a word that I cherish. It is not as harsh as 'adieu' nor as semplistic as 'good-bye'. Nevertheless, I still don't like good-byes. I have learnt to be less emotive about it, I am contineously seeking not to get too involved emotionally..but I still don't seem to have learnt how to be detached, emotionless. I get attached, I love, I care, sometimes I love people so much I can't help but overwhelm them with affection, thus, to pull them away from me..and that kills me from the inside, it rottens me like a worm slowly consumes an apple cork, like a burning fire painfully consumes a log of wood..reducing it to ashes, mere dust, easily swept away by the gentle breeze.. Why couldn't love be easier?

Sophia - from the album, De Nachten...
If only
hand in hand we spend the night
love comes easy by candlelight

we lie about our past to make each other believe
that this is the love that will last for eternity

if only, if only
if only, if only
if only I could believe that tomorrow
when I wake from my sleep
that you'll still be with me
oh my love
my love will always be

A Year...

The changability of life is an issue that will possibly never cease to intrigue me. Life that moves,changes,evolves somehow. As most people, I have a little "End of the Year" ritual - I assess the year that has just gone by and ponder upon valuable or less significant changes I would like to see in the coming year. In other words, I think...way too much. Nevertheless, I have always found this sort of meditation on life really handy in giving me better direction, more precise goals, aim better and, one would hope, make things better each year. Sometimes I manage,sometimes I fail, sometimes I learn from it all. This year has been incredibly difficult on so many levels, but I stand here with a smile on my face, a tranquil and serene smile, because I now know for a fact that what doesn't break us, makes us stronger indeed. A year ago I made a set of good intentions and resolutions for 2007. I randomly stumbled upon them again this morning to discover, to much of my surprise, that, with the exception of improving my French, all of them did come true!! May be not in the way I had thought those things would take place, but eventually they all happened and I am much better off as a result! But this is certainly not meant to be a paternalistic, condiscending message of victory, but an attempt to keep on trying to improve. If I could give a title to this year like one gives a title to a book, it would probably be "The Year of the Second Chances" - rarely does it happen at my young age to be given an opportunity to be transferred back to their life when they were half the age they are now and facing people and circumstances with a newly acquired sense of maturity, stability, experience and self confidence. I feel truly blessed for this. I truly do not want to mess it all up this time around. So here it is to second chances and the experiences which have made us the people we are!

A Movable Feast

Only Hemingway, in his linguistic confidence and exquisite intentness with words, could have coined such a sublime, perfectly describing title for his book, A Movable Feast. "A Movable Feast" it's an expression which encompasses a great deal of significance; narrating the author's Parisian years through the bohemian 1920's, one is transported into life through Hemingway's eyes - the cafes, the places, the people, even the smells which intertwine, encounter, cross, enrich and mark his life. In the opening chapter, it is described the scene of a man, sitting outside a Parisian cafes on a cold autumn day... I can't remember exactly how the story goes, but I have this picture vivid in my head of a middle aged man, sat by a small wrought iron table, longish going grey haired, wearing a long beige rain-coat, a gray woollen scarf, intellectual looking tortoise-shell specs, black hat on the spare chair, writing onto his Moleskine notebook whilst smoking a cigar, his coffee cooling down on the table...As he writes, people stop by, meet up with him, are noticed or ignored, stories are being born. As I sat on the train on Wednesday, a man kindly gave up his seat for me. Instead, he had to go and sit opposite another man, pretty much his age. They started to converse under the most banal circumstances to then end up discussing roughly everything under the sun - politics, philosophy, society, economics, justice, love, stereotypes, life. A feast that can be movable. How can lives so diverse from each other, so varied, so different, be shared, reinterpreted, discussed, expanded upon, in strange contexts. All this is the alchemy of our common humaity where, on the journey of our lives takes us to all sort of places, even without ever moving.

Captive Markets

Like hot chocolate in a small mountain cabin after a long day skiing, like a bottle of fresh water during a walk through the desert, like shops opened all day on Sundays before Christmas. We have all been in certain situations where, by choice or obligation, we have become victims of the so-called "Captive Markets". By definition, capitive markets have a much more specific meaning. A web sites offers this comprehensive definition: *A captive market is a group of consumers who have limited choice in terms of the products they can select/purchase (no choice)! This type of market was common during the production era when there was a limited supply of goods (and great demand). It occurs when the market is monopolistic, thus there is only one supplier in the marketplace. This is more likely to occur with digital products (Microsoft is a good example of this). It can occur when a marketer has achieved significant lock-in for its installed based. Thus the switching costs for the consumer to try a competing product become prohibitive.* In' my book', a captive market is when the "producers" know exactly that you will need their product, hence they will make it available to you at prohibiting conditions: if you can afford it, good for you; if you can't, on the contrary, too bad. In "developing" countries, this form of dispotism is, renownly and shamefully, common practice. Liverpool John Lennon Airport has got their own take on the matter. Given that only 'economy flights' land and take off from there, one assumes that they are saving on their travelling costs...big misunderstanding! The mere price of the shuttle from Manchester to Liverpool has gone from £5 to £10 in a mere 6 month! That's like a 100% increase, 100%!! And how do you explain that one set of scales indicates one is 2.5 kg overweight and the other check in set of scales indicates 3 kg less than the first?! (every kg overweight is charged at a price, of course!). Then there is the cue for the compulsory security check - 25 minutes long. Long enough to miss a flight. But, at the accessible price of £2 per passenger you can soar through the cue and get priority. What kind of message are we preaching? Money as a tool for priviledge even in a context, security, where everyone should be the same? It's £2, I know, but it is the principles that concerns me. And makes me cross.

Only one hundred steps away...

I recently re-watched a beautiful movie called "I Cento Passi" (One Hundred Steps). It reached international acclaim a few years back together with more popular movies about organized crime, a denunciation of Mafia and its effects on the lives of many people who coexist with it. "I cento passi" (one hundred steps) was the distance between the Impastatos' house and the house of Tano Badalamenti, an important Mafia boss, in the small Sicilian town of Cinisi. The movie is the story of Peppino Impastato, a young left-wing activist that in the late seventies (when almost nobody dared to speak about Mafia, and several politicians maintained that Mafia did not even exist) repeatedly denounced Badalamenti crimes and the whole Mafia system using a small local radio station, with the arm of irony. In 1978 Peppino (30 years old) was killed by an explosion. The police archived the case as an accident or a suicide, but his friends never accepted this thesis. Note: This is a true story. More than wenty years after Peppino's death, the case has been re-opened. Tano Badalamenti, meanwhile, has been convicted in USA for drug traffic. I thought again about it this morning, whilst stuck in a traffic-jam caused by an abandoned vehicle on the side of a narrow city road. The car hadn't properly been abandoned by its owners. The car had previously been stolen and, under the owner's refusal to pay money to get it back, the robbers burnt it and left it on the side of the road, a so called unpaid "cavallo di ritorno" (return horse). You see I often wonder what you think about this. As a southern Italian, even if from a rather privileged background, I am aware and accustomed to all these idiosyncrasies. Weird. Weired that one can live so close to injustice, those physical hundred steps that suddenly become conceptual, ideological, moral and back and be accustomed to it.


"I Cento Passi" - Modena City Ramblers

Happy

I know you are already hearing the legendary song by the Rolling Stones resounding in your ears right now as I mentioned "Happy" (that's of course, if in the Beatles/Rolling Stones diatribe you were not a Beatles fan!) Rock on! The young lady in the picture, on the contrary, is my wonderful dog, Happy. She is the 'daughter my father never had', the life of this house and the cause of a heck of a lot of laughter. Jeez, I mean we are not stereotypically "pet-people", but ever since we have had her as a family pet we have experienced so much...well...happiness! Doh! Happy is also how I feel right now. Do you ever fear that changes are going to kill you,that if life takes a different turn from what you had expected you'll die of remorse and heartache? Well,not necessarily. Sometimes it's true: what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Happier. So here it is to change and life unexpected twists!