Where Is My Cosmogony Gone?

This is perhaps one of the most frightening things to do, to pull away the curtain of habitual stability and look directly into the bloody beating mess of character. To shed the false skin and walk naked to the face of conflict. To slip from the constriction of fear and hammer the skull to shards and bone dust. It requires and returns the active valuing of life, and you can feel the blood rushing to your head and movement slows as the adrenaline throws fits in your veins and you exit your body just so much to get out the words or acts that were crammed so tight in your head and now sound like thunder and look like the tsunami, like something natural and terrifying. I am trying to keep the curtains parted and my eyes fixed and tongue-pen electric. I continue to say I'm trying because I am continuing to try; and without marked goals--live in flux, not limbo.

Each day is still different than the others. I am generally feeling pleased, relaxed, focused, unfocused, voracious, directed, content, structured enough to feel free. Yesterday was my birthday and like all other days, only I felt more loved (imagination or not, I felt it). After dinner we had an apple cake Monica made, and champagne Serio brought. They added candles to blow out, gave me a bottle of sweet wine and a special foccaccia in light blue wrapping paper. It was overwhelming, the care and the smiles which meant, "this is good. we are glad for you and with you. you are not with your loved ones, so we will try to act as substitute. we want you to be happy; this day especially should be happy." I was a stranger on my birthday, and at the dinner table I began to cry.

Today has been a restful day. I finished lyrics for a song for Angel Band, saw off Diego, Sara, Giacomina, and Vittorio's mother, and had an interesting conversation with Vittorio about the Italian government, judiciary, feudal mindset, and the pragmatism and efficiency of the USA--all in Italian (he did most of the talking). Vittorio has already become more talkative and animated now that only he, Monica, and I remain at Orti di Mare, which is encouraging. Tonight or maybe tomorrow we'll bake bread. I'm still working on weeding the strawberry patch, and will probably be at it for the rest of the week. Here are some pictures: