an autumn day

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an autumn day

warm sun on my face

traveling back in time

scrolling through the remains of a revolved past

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puisque tout passe

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« …Passons passons puisque tout passe
Je me retournerai souvent
Les souvenirs sont des cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent »

Cors de chasse, Guillaume Apollinaire

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a habit

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It’s not about luck

It’s not a goal to attain

It might seems difficult but is it really

Maybe it’s just a habit

A parcel of soil to tend

Day by day

Where you choose to plant thankfulness

Because it’s a lovely seed

And then you tend to it, through summer and winter

in order to see it grow and bear fruits

And while you’re there, so very busy,

you might notice

that an unattended regret has withered

and all those worries suddenly look way smaller.

It’s not much, really

it’s just a habit

Just a slight change of perspective

that maybe it’s enough

***

 

the wild woman

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Several years ago, my Argentinian friend offered me a book, without saying anything but with a special light in her eyes.  Twenty years have passed and « Women who run with the wolves » by Clarissa Pinkola Estés is still on my night table.

Tonight, while opening it casually, it offered me this timely sentence:

« I know many writers who keep a sentence posted over their desk, and a woman who has written it on a piece of paper that she keeps  folded in her shoe.  It contains a line from a poem by Charles Simic which represents the key prescription for us all: « Those who  cannot howl, will not find their herd ». If you want the wild Woman back, refuse to be captured ».

 

 

half a year

 

 

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In three days, it will be 6 months. Half a year.

My first birthday and Gabriele’s have gone by without your phone call. And the first summer without seeing you, without you telling me how you enjoyed the images I sent you. Winter will be here soon and it will bring your birthday with it, the first where I won’t get the chance to ask myself what would make you happy. And the first Christmas without going present shopping together. Then spring will come and Chiara’s birthday with it, without you enquiring about her party. After that, the bulbs you offered me will bloom.

When March comes, the circle of these first twelve months « without » will be complete. Day after day we will have learned – more or less lightheartedly – to live with your absence and to let go of our habits together in order to make room for learning how to feel your presence differently.

In 6 months, the second « life-after » circle will begin, then the third, the fourth and so on, without us noticing. Day by day we will live our lives with your renewed presence by our sides and together, we will create new memories.

Everything will be different on the surface, of course, but maybe not so much so on the inside. Because to me it is cristal clear that you, who have taught me to love the changing seasons and their cycles, you are most certainly there, somewhere, smiling at us as you witness each new leaf sprout in our lives.

holi

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Even more so, after the recent sad news, let us celebrate this amazing, fleeting gift that is life. It’s a drop in the ocean yes, but there’s nothing more one can do than to try and lead by example in one’s life.

 

 

rome

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This light that I would recognize everywhere

This unique atmosphere

and these two persons who call me mama.

Much has happened ever since

But it’s enough to remind me

of the boundless grace I am blessed with

there are moments when

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There are moments when words become heavy stones sinking to the bottom instead of reaching the surface, which remains perfectly still. Looking down, you can see them laying down there.

Let it be silence then. Giving time to time. Stitch by stitch, tracing back the original thread. For what it may mean, that’s where I’m at now.

a new cycle

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May the start of this new year bring you:

« …the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and wisdom to know the difference »

the time of

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There is a time of calendars, fixed and immutable. The time invented by man and his watches.

There is a rubber-band time that goes faster or slower,  depending on whether we’re happy or not.

And there is a secret, unfathomable time. An invisible clock that synchronizes the seasons of every living being that is born, lives and one day, dies.

Marveling at how these times click in different ways as we run about in a frantic way while the tiniest leafs silently sprout.