I see me

Ok. So I told you a lie today. It wasnt a lie, as such, it just kinda came out all wrong. And in retrospect, I understand now that it wasnt what I meant.

So I told you that I am waiting for that being to emerge. The one that you were able to so easily access when you were on the essences. Thats not true. I was honoured to see her and delighted for you to be able to have that experience, but she is not who you are, nor is she who I think you want to be.

What I meant to say was... was something I havent said before... Im not sure what it is or what it might sound like. Its something like... I am excited by who you are becoming. Watching you face your physicality is a powerful and difficult journey, I just hope you dont miss the rest of the picture... your other dimensions.

You are damaged. Yes, ok, we all are. But the difference is, I care about YOU... not everyone else. I know your history, some of your past experiences... and I cant help but let you know that I hope you really get to the nuts and bolts of you.

So much of what we do is based in fear, sadness and grief. Today I understood how completely pissed off at the world you are - its people. I saw your grief at a dying planet and your resentment at being human. ...

I have that too. It is only recently that I have really recognised it as a very real fear of the future, hatered of mankind and resentment that I was born into this body, at this time, feeling angry and ohh so very helpless. Put simply - it sucks.

I wasnt wrong when I said that I want peace for you. I see underneath your rage a glimpse of the potential for peace that you had all those years ago, in that moment, at that time.

Its OK to be sad at whats happening, to be enraged, to feel helpless. Its OK to recognise it, feel it and allow it to pass. Letting it pass won't mean its gone, just that your experience of it has.

The grief is part of who you are, as it is me. Its the part that says "I want a better world. I want people to get along and respect eachother, I am part of the earth and she is me. Yes, I AM sensitive. And yes, I am a Warrior. I stand in the face of all those things and I will feel, and let go. But I will NOT hide anymore".

The grief and rage will come back. Its what you do with it that matters. What you put it into - like composting newspaper - turning bad news into good news. :)
Action is the most important thing. It's the ONLY thing.


Do-ing is where peace lives.


I can feel your rage. I can feel your fear and your sadness. And it doesnt frighten me. It gives me hope. Fuck BEing peaceful. Lets be enraged and put that into PEACEful action. Loving ruthlessly, Releasing old shit, taking out the garbage... and above everything FORGIVING. Fuck it! Lets slosh forgiveness around like wine.

You are an extraordinary being. The intensity of your love for your planet and the people in your life is incredibile. Its time to use that love to cut old ties, to forgive. The being using that love as her tool, as her power... the woman who is fighting to get through the mess of the world which is the mess within herself. That is who I saw today. That is who I am excited about getting to know all over again.

That is the part of you who is in my heart. And, finally, she is the part of you who will NEVER leave you. x

The End. :)

Adele

Its absolutely no secret that Italians have, shall we say, a certain way of speaking.

To someone who doesnt understand the language, it sounds like they spend their time trying to bite eachothers heads off, or taking the piss with long drawn out cries of "Ma, Noooooooo!" (But nooooo!) "Ma cosa dici?" (What the hell are you saying?).

Gesticulating madly, flailing hands and purposeful fingers, as if communication was for the deaf. Comfortably talking over, not stopping to listen, this way of communicating is designed for the deaf.

Lovers, seemingly busting up through my anglo-eyes, she explains to me that she just gave him a defiant no after he asks her to go to town (again) to buy a single blank CD. A group throwing blankets of words over eachother to suffocate opinion and win arguement. A thunderous storm of words and chatter - that surely someone will storm out of the room at any second - but no, they're discussing the football or the price of petrol. And they'll do it again at dinner next week. "Telling you something for nothing" a friend once called it.

They are rarely softly spoken. That is, apart from Adele.

Adele is a woman scripted carefully, it would seem, by Edin Blyton. Ageless, but I'm guessing around 60 years of age with high cheekbones, soft honey-coloured skin, wide pale blue eyes and blonde whisps of fine curly hair; she moves slowly and purposefully, with a smile and a knowing glance.

And her occupation is also her passion and is no less whimiscal. Adele is an artist and, in particular, a Weaver. As a Weaver, she combines materials out of wool, cotton and silken thread, binding and threading, stitching. Her angled digits work quickly to bind and sew. Carefully colouring them by hand, she uses naturals dyes from herbs and spices she collects herself from her jungle-like garden or the rolling miles of forrest which surround her home in the hills of Monferrato.

Her home, brightly coloured in pastel pink, blue and yellow sits among ancient trees and patches of forgotten herbs is filled with rooms of carefully placed ornaments, seemingly haphazardly thrown together but incredibly creative or gifts from children - they display their simple beauty unpretentiously. Large windows light up cuttings of cloth and reams of recently stained wool.

Her studio holds a giant loom - a wooden machine from a time before automated machinery holding in its stringy fingers the beginnings or endings of a work in progress. A seamstress' model is draped with colourful patches of hand-crafted felt and a giant wooden desk cradles prints and patches, drawings and plans and the promises and dreams of things to come.

She is a softly spoken woman who speaks with gentle tones, gasps and awes and often,a hand which clasps your knee or hand in emapthy or enthusiasm - an understated delight. She leans into you; perhaps to hear, perhaps to be heard and you can almost feel her eyes searching your face for every twitch of expression, reading your lines, searching for your truth, for your meaning.

It is incredible to think that I have met her only twice. And although difficult to understand, I feel that she knows me. She has left we with an example for my life, of how I would like to be - creative, expressive, gentle and eager to look behind the person and see the meaning.

That's Adele.