I would like to take advantage of spring to be reborn too, imitate the flowers that patiently leave frost, cold, short days and persistent rains behind and forget how far away the time when they could have shown themselves seemed.
I would like to dress myself in color and beauty, to be like a sunny day that everyone greets with a smile, sinking my eyes into an intense blue sky, without borders.
I would like to strip myself of the gray afternoons, of the dark thoughts, of the shortcomings that have clouded my heart and take back the life I deserve, to sprout like an insignificant blade of grass, to break the monotony like a poppy in a cornfield, spontaneous and impertinent, lonely yet so essential.
I would like to be waited for and welcomed, like a sunny spring, like a season that instinctively makes one think of the beauty of simple things, of daisies, of perfume... of life.
The truth is that spring doesn't care. He doesn't care if you're sad.
It flaunts all its colors in front of you, its perfumes, and the first warm rays of the sun catapult upon you... whether you're ready or not.
Spring can be very indelicate with those who are sad. It flaunts its laughing beauty, as if to make fun of those who still have snow on their hearts. Indeed, to those people who linger in the winters of the soul, he seems to say: "I made it and you didn't.", "The whole world goes on. While you stay behind".
Whoever is sad is sadder in spring.
Because spring is like this, intrusive and pretentious. He knows how to give you everything he has, but in return he wants absolute devotion.
She is an aware woman, a refined lover, who however demands attention and admiration.
It is an opportunity to choose. An opportunity to be seized.
Spring is not waiting for you. She passes you suddenly, and wants to be chased.
It looks like happiness. It looks like love.
The truth is, spring doesn't care if you're sad. She arrives. It comes anyway.
And you just have to choose it.
Because it's not a right moment, but the right decision to make at all times.
In the wind that tells the air,
I am surprised to stay still,
not to fly away,
to anchor myself to the roots of the restless earth.
The waking hours, at night at 4,
when the kitten meows,
the hours out of the dream of the stairs that go down and up,
they are so white, so stellar.
A distant movement of clouds, noises, hisses and breaths,
while I imagine the night as a light traveler,
without baggage, without destination,
towards a horizon there,
behind the mountain peaks.
I got up,
with a candle in hand,
as in dreams,
like someone who wants to see in the dark,
and I saw the air, clear, very clean, transparent,
but I saw it and I was inside that air,
as if you were something touched, caressed,
and I had no fear of death.
What purpose would I exist if I were all contained within myself?
But I am contained by the air and this invisible container
I saw it for the first time last night.
Like looking through a transparent, crystalline glass.
The world is immensely foreign to me,
because I look beyond the peaks and see,
I see through the rock,
I see the breath of the animals in their burrows,
the men in their shelters, doubtful and insecure.
A dove's wing moves,
his presence sounds in the silence.
I go back to bed, I blow out the candle,
I get back into the air and sleep.
It doesn't matter who I am.
It doesn't matter what my name is.
I have seen the air and the fire of the eternal soul,
inside a breath of wind that was going away
but I stay here, on the bed,
and I dream of being able to save trees.
Yesterday I went to cry by a stream. There was a dragonfly that inspired the poem I wrote on the spot. I sat down and took pictures afterwards. I was very sad and looking at the trees I felt in company. I took some pictures tomorrow so I can show you the video of this place where I live.
In my area, farmers have been taking water from canals for weeks now to water the vineyards. When the water runs out, what will we drink? Prosecco?
They cut down entire areas of trees to plant vines and take European funds. Now they cry because there is not enough water. Maybe it was better to leave the trees where they were?
In my area, farmers have been taking water from canals for weeks now to water the vineyards. When the water runs out, what will we drink? Prosecco?
They cut down entire areas of trees to plant vines and take European funds. Now they cry because there is not enough water. Maybe it was better to leave the trees where they were?
There is a beautiful English word that I love: “wallflower” means when a person is shy and stands aloof. Indeed it is just like that, no one notices a flower on the wall, yet it stands there to observe the way and think that it is in the wrong place. Who is right, who would want a simple flower when the world is full of strong and wonderful trees, capable of such high self-esteem that they allow them to compete on who gets taller?
I didn’t think something like this could happen. To me, then. And how amazed I admitted it to you, asking you nothing more, not asking yourself if it was the same for you, if you had felt what I had felt. I wouldn’t share such a thing with anyone else. I wondered if I was afraid of never trying it again. And yes, I replied, I’m afraid, even if you gently stroked my hair, reassuringly. But the memory, oh no, nobody takes that away from me. Suddenly I was dragged into a forest, with a faint glow looming in the trees. When I arrived in an open space, a small pastel-colored clearing, I was surprised by a mountain of water that submerged me dramatically. But I soon understood, when the water enveloped me like a warm blanket, I understood that that tender numbness that I felt as mine, it was you, it was me in you, it was you in me, and all that you feel for me, and all that I feel for you. It was different from other times, I was safe, protected, cloaked in clear water, and the image described is the transfiguration of what I felt: I was not an I, I was not a we, but with you a single entity.I have met many women in my life, some more women than someone else .. But the real women that I have met and that have remained in my heart, I can count on the fingers of one hand. One of these is my grandmother, who has always had extreme strength in moving forward, has always had the courage to never give up … And so it was until the last. Like my mother, who has always taught me the true values ​​of love and family. He always had the world against him, but he never gave a damn! He always had the strength to get up, is to be able to raise others when my father died prematurely, and of a disease that changed him into a skeleton in just one month. They are women, all those who have never given up. All those who know how to respect and above all know how to respect themselves. All those who know what it means to be polite. All those who instead of insulting come there and talk to you. All those who know how hard a mother’s life is. All those who, despite the thousand misadventures, are still standing. I will love my women forever. Because more than women, they are warriors.I regularly am amazed at the psychological superficiality of those who conceive the ego of man as a simple, permanent, affable and unitary entity. For me, man is a being with a myriad of lives with a myriad of sensations, a multifaceted and complex creature that carries within itself strange inheritance of thoughts and passions, and whose very flesh is contaminated by the contagious diseases of the dead.
The Sanfratellano dei Nebrodi horse (or San Fratello breed) is an Italian breed originally from the Messina area. Majestic and rustic, docile and proud, the Sanfratellano horse has been the undisputed master of the Nebrodi mountains for centuries.
The ancient Greeks called this area “the land of roe deer”, and it is precisely from “nebros”, roe deer, that the name of the park was born. The Nebrodi Park, which with more than 80 thousand hectares of surface, is the largest protected natural area on the island, represents a breathtaking spectacle of unspoiled nature. Through its paths and paths there are different types of vegetation to discover and a rich and complex wildlife community.An ideal place to indulge in a dream trekking during your Sicilian holidays. Formed by the rushing waters of the San Basilio stream, at a height difference of 30 meters carved by time, the waterfall is located in the territory of Galati di Mamertino in an area full of charm that offers numerous ideas for pleasant walks.A small corner where you can also relax by offering a prayer to the Madonna present in the icon placed by the citizens of Caronia Montagna to consecrate the wood to the Lady of Nature.
This is the icon of the Madonna present in the green area.Lake Maulazzo is a suggestive artificial reservoir of about 5 hectares on the north-eastern slopes of Monte Soro, the highest peak of the Nebrodi. The path leading to the lake proceeds through hidden and unusual paths. You can admire streams of clear water, small mammals, diurnal birds of prey, griffins and, with a little luck, even the golden eagle. There is no shortage of plants, flowers and mushrooms typical of the undergrowth. Lake Maulazzo is an important lake environment: although it was born as an artificial lake, over time it has naturalized, offering shelter to many animal and plant species.The Sicilian Black pig, also called Nero dei Nebrodi, Nero delle Madonie or Nero dell Etna is a native breed with very ancient origins. It is a very fine breed with a strong and highly recognizable meat flavor. Sicilian black pigs are raised in the wild and semi-wild state in the wooded areas of the island, free to feed according to nature, guaranteeing the goodness of their meat thanks to proper nutrition consisting mainly of acorns and chestnuts.It is enclosed between the borders of Randazzo and Tortorici. It is a natural alpine lake and is the highest in Sicily (1435 m asl). Its waters besides quenching the thirst of numerous herds, attract numerous avian species, including gray herons, coots, moorhens and mallards.If you are looking for adventure in contact with nature, if you are attracted by the unknown or if you (simply) like walking, you cannot miss this Sicilian stop, to be added immediately to your “to do list”, that is to the list of 1000 things to do on the weekend. The next one, for example.Birdwatching of Nebrodi griffins. From the educational laboratory “La Tana delle Idee” you can watch the griffons thanks to dioramas and cameras present in the nesting sites of the Griffons. These large birds with their wingspan of over three meters, can travel hundreds of kilometers in one day.Three pairs of golden eagles live in the area of ​​the Nebrodi Park and one of these, the one that lives in the stupendous landscape of the fortresses of the Crasto di Alcara li Fusi, is linked to a singular and fascinating legend. It is said, in fact, that a hermit, San Nicola Politi, who lived in a cave among these inaccessible mountains had established an exceptional relationship with the Golden Eagle and every day provided for his sustenance receiving the blessing of the sacred man. This tradition finds testimony in the paintings that can be observed in the town of Alcara li Fusi and the relationship of affection of the locals towards their eagle is still alive and testified by the good health of this couple, which is among the most fruitful and productive of the whole Sicily.
Walking in the woods is a fantastic thing, it recharges you, it makes you feel your true nature, it gives you life again. We belong to nature and not to concrete. But we forgot about our green heart, which is why we are all sick now. The forest is our home. An environment made up of meadows, shrubs, trees, wetlands or not, welcomed primitive man. Being in nature, crossing the woods, was useful for our ancestors to get food. A primary need fixed in our genome. Despite a sedentary lifestyle and a safe home, our body, our immune system, invites us to be in nature, to take a walk in the woods. Our body knows that all of this makes us feel good.Terpenes, this is the secret of the forest. Terpenes are chemical molecules that plants produce to communicate with other plants. There are about 40,000 of them. They use them to defend themselves from parasite attacks, to send odorous messages. Through the terpenes the forest speaks the language of smells. And our body buys it up to strengthen the immune system. And not only. Our mood improves, we move away from any states of depression and we know, if our mood is high, our immune system also works better. The terpenes in the air come from the leaves and needles of the trees and again from the bark and trunk. They are released from shrubs, grasses and undergrowth bushes. And again from mushrooms, mosses and ferns. Everything in a forest emanates terpenes, precious and incredible biomolecules that we assimilate through the skin and through breathing, therefore from the lungs. Now you know. So you stay in the woods for a few more minutes. Are you OK. Fill your lungs with air. Breathe and this time really, breathe and choose to feed yourself with a dose of air full of what makes you feel good. Your immune system reads, decodes and copes with any external attack just like a tree would because it is in the woods that you have your roots. Home.All fables take place in the woods, the best known and the individual ones, of each of us. Those who choose to walk in the woods want to live their own fairy tale, looking for that inner freedom that makes them the master of their own life and dreaming of acting like trees, birds and deer, which in their simplicity live above everything. When you go deep into the woods you leave behind the noises of civilization. Venturing completely alone is a unique experience that we can offer ourselves, with that mixture of fear and a state of alert that are mixed with the pleasure of daring to challenge the atavistic fears that we carry within us since we were children. Going deeper and deeper into the trees, and closing your eyes, you can hear the heartbeat of the forest play in unison with your own.Human beings become inhumane when they turn away from nature. They become numb. They become sad and bored. Living in concrete houses has killed the energy of human beings. They have shelter but no longer feel any joy. They are trapped in sterile cages and become sterile. Nature is destroyed and man does not understand that destroying it means destroying himself.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 