He who creates does not produce. Who creates is not seen. Everything that is not produced by companies goes unnoticed. What is created and is not a product of capitalism is as if they do not exist. And so in the same way creators are non-existent for society. They're on the sidelines. In their creative corners where they despair and cry. Their creations are not products and they are not existent. Capitalism has made them useless. In the past, creators such as Leonardo, Michelangelo and others were welcomed at court, well-liked and in demand. But today's creatives and artists stay out of every door, unless they produce something "salable". This dead company is based only on earnings and money is killing the imagination.



You know when you went to the bottom of your sea?
I mean when you've been right in your abyss.
When everything you've done, fought for yourself seemed for nothing?
First of all don't blame it on others... No dear friend or whoever you are. The fault was only yours.
Yours because you allowed it.
But remember...
When you hit the bottom of your abyss, you have a choice.
Or stay there mouldering and feeling sorry for yourself.
Or by touching the bottom you give yourself the push to get out of that abyss.
No, no one will come to save you, we are not in fairy tales here.
It's you who decides whether to save yourself or leave you there to cry over yourself, complain and get stuck.
But I'll tell you one thing.
When you succeed (if you want) to get out of your abyss... It will be like a rebirth.
And you will see green and it will be light and you will see the sky and it will be light and you will see how long you lived thinking it was all grey.
You can get out of the deep sea and you can rediscover all the colors of your soul.


Being yourself exposes you. 
Being yourself with time you realize that it makes you helpless because misunderstood. 
To be yourself is to show your true essence, your true soul, and after trusting the outside world. 
You realize that he leaves no way out for real people. 
From that moment you really learn that it is better to build a mask and face life with a smile even if it is not true.
Even if it's not yours. 
And behind that smile you suffer.
You are too unique and precious to give yourself at this point to the world that does not deserve you.
But only to those people who you will recognize as you are profound and unique.
Like you. 
Life and its teachings are unpredictable.
Like the calm sea in appearance.
But it hides an intensity and a disarming passion.
My essence is part of it.
And nobody can control it. 
But it can only lives me. 



Often events occur in our life that can hardly be attributed to chance. It is those striking, indisputable coincidences that seriously question the fact that there is nothing beyond what we perceive with the senses. Rationality - so proudly flaunted by Westerners - and the materialism of our times does not highlight the deepest feeling which cannot be described with crude words. Certain facts make you think that perhaps there is someone who is thinking of you, who is watching from above and trying to guide you on your path. We do not know what it is, whether our soul, God, or the angels, or the Devas, but we do know that there is a Truth that acts within us.

Coincidences are often underestimated, misinterpreted, and frequently ignored. Often and willingly, the secret side of what one has just experienced is not grasped and therefore the lesson to be learned is not grasped. Maintaining an open, silent attitude and therefore proposed to listening to this feeling allows you to perceive more and more easily this inner voice that is expressed in such a subtle way that it is difficult to distinguish it from our revolving, unstoppable and repetitive thoughts.
The inner voice (if we want to call it that) is the one that the sages (that of Socrates!), Philosophers, mystics, and religious (the real ones) listen to. It is our connection with true reality, with the complete picture of reality that we still cannot perceive. Following the inner voice means having Faith (not in the "Christian" sense) that is, having Trust that that voice will guide you and give you the best for you.

It is quite possible to see that the inner voice manifests itself most clearly when the mind is silent and the trust placed in it is complete. We must not be carried away by doubt and fear.
Letting oneself be guided should not be a blind act, but a conscious one. By "letting yourself be guided" we mean to stop going against the flow of life, it means to stop being afraid of the future, because you are aware that the things that happen to you are the most useful for you. We must stop going against the current or we will continue to suffer. We suffer because the water that comes from the river crashes on us and we are unable to leave the rock with which we remain still so that we are carried away by the current of life. Let go!
One should try to leave oneself in complete abandonment.


I often hear people say that you cannot think about everyone's problems and that you cannot love indiscriminately, and that, nowadays, personalities like Gandhi or Jesus are just a utopia. I often hear it said: “One cannot love the whole world indiscriminately. You cannot love a stranger ”. Yet there is nothing more foolish: any friend, boyfriend / girlfriend, distant relative that we have never seen, before knowing him was none other than a stranger. So? The interaction between our soul and that of other people leads us to unite with each other and share the same emotions, sensations, pleasures, moments. 
This is how a complete stranger becomes someone. Why, therefore, we should not do the same. with the rest of the world and send love unconditionally to everyone, preparing us for a possible meeting, even if it never happens? Why should I give my love only to the people I know, when I know that there are so many in the world who would need a thought of affection that I can send them? Love is the only feeling in the world that never runs out of a soul's "batteries". Indeed, if anything, it recharges them. 
Love makes the world a better, brighter, stronger place. Love overcomes all barriers and boundaries, all obstacles of war, hatred, pain, anger. Love surpasses even death. It is the most powerful and liberating feeling, the greatest. And yet, although it is the feeling we give most to the people we know, it is also the one we give the least to everyone else. 
Almost ashamed of us, almost as if we had to hide. But hide from whom? From what? We were born to be in the world and be happy, and love. Above all to love. Yet we get scared when we love so much: we think we are weak and that it is wrong. What a terrible mistake: love is the richest feeling in the world and we deprive ourselves of it with our hands, trapped in fruitless thoughts in our own mind. Love is not an animal that can be kept in a cage (like no animal, on the other hand). It should be given as a gift, not begged for. 
It should be shouted and not fearfully whispered. It should be sighed with a smile and not a grimace of pain. We have the greatest gift that has been given to us in the world and every time we see it delivered in our hands we don't know what to do with it, we don't even know how to behave with those who give it to us. We should learn to thank every day for knowing how to love, because when a man does not know how to love "It is only a man who cannot see, it is a child who cannot play, it is a sunset that has no color".



There is this story that my grandmother told me some time ago. Of her who was close to marriage with her great love, who was later my grandfather, and of his family who searched far and wide for a photograph of her to deliver it to a maara in the country so that she could curse them and separate them for always. Fortunately, my grandmother, and despite her beauty, had only been photographed a few times.
The maare, village witches and mysterious women, were therefore nothing but great bitches. They destroyed marriages and bent men to their will. They drove them crazy, they made them worse than soulless puppets. They even managed to force them to have feelings: a drop of menstrual blood in the coffee was enough and the game was done. Imagine how many poor males have been ruined by the unbridled power of women.
How bad, what fear.
But it is something that sounds quite familiar to me, this of hatred towards the female gender. The idea that women are evil has been around since the dawn of time, and it is not necessary to bring up the history of witchcraft to prove it. It seems that the woman instigates to sin regardless: it is something inherent in her forms, so most say, in the sharp look or in the refinement of her intelligence. Whatever you touch becomes bad, dies, withers. Here in Sicily to say, and this is a land where we do not send things to say eh, here we say them exactly as they are without any fear, here in Sicily until recently women with periods were prevented from touching their plant. “You will make them die, you are unclean”, they said. We are daughters of the devil, not for nothing: we bring life and, if we want, even death.
But isn't this the ideal context, the one that sees us women as inferior beings but endowed with extraordinary abilities of manipulation, the ideal context in which to turn in our favor what instead would like to demote us? In Sicily, fifty years ago - and perhaps still today - women had no other function than that of procreating and nursing their own children and those of others; clean the house, serve the men of the family, keep your eyes down and cancel your identity within that of the father, brother, husband. It was like that for all women, but only one category was saved. That of the witches. Essential figures within society, they interceded between earthly and out-of-control things, and were just one step lower than the priests, but they were much, much more fearful.
The Sicilian maare were women who were not satisfied with living by inertia, who did not passively accept destiny and instead tried to change it, with magic, spells, prayers and all that was in their possibilities. And they had no scruples, yes, but who had scruples with them?

From the mythological Circe to the girls burned in the fires of the Inquisition, passing through the seas of the South and ending with me, the witches have been the resistance in a society that has always looked at women with distrust and superiority. And that's why I'm not ashamed of my identity as a witch. Indeed I want to tell you all here, in black and white.


Since the eighteenth century, the area that today belongs to the National Park of the Belluno Dolomites was a destination for visits and studies by some of the most important botanists of the time. Even today, the area preserves an extraordinary natural heritage, with a flora rich in rarities. The famous Codex Bellunensis, a precious figured herbarium from the early fifteenth century that describes the plants collected by scholars in the mountains that are now part of the park, is kept in the British Library in London.

A heritage of colors and scents that is renewed every year on the mountains overlooking Belluno and each year offer wonderful spectacles among the woods, the peaks and the waters of this corner of Veneto. From the red lily to the golden lily, from the mountain lily to the alpine poppy, from the red nigritella to the alpine buttercup, from the edelweiss to the squat, from the Moretti bellflower to the alpine cochlearia, from the silvery geranium to the iris of Monte Cengio, the flora of the park is a succession of botanical wonders.
I define myself as an ecologist rather than a botanist. I have always loved the natural sciences as a whole. But plants, with their surprising and exciting evolutionary dynamics, have always taught me something. Every day I learn from them. They are dynamic, they adapt to the environment with incredible strategies and, above all, contrary to what happens in human society, they implement a form of collaborative competition, aimed at the best use of available resources. All have a role, from the smallest species to the largest tree, and contribute to a better reality.

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