Mi sento unicamente una "Cittadina del Mondo"
figlia, madre, amica, compagna, donna...
Ho viaggiato lungo rotte conosciute ed altre ignote, per lavoro ma anche per curiosità o solo per il desiderio di scoprire nuovi luoghi!
L'esperienza a contatto con altri popoli, religioni e culture, mi ha insegnato a venerare Madre Natura ed ogni forma di vita che ci conduce a valutare precetti inconfutabili, ma che purtroppo troppi ignorano nel più assoluto egoismo.
Vi apro le porte del mio mondo virtuale... seguitemi lungo l'itinerante scorrer d'acqua lasciando traccia di vissuto.
What to say about Claudine? She is passionate about living a present, balanced and authentic life, with a healthy dose of humor! She loves to travel the world, explore new places, people and food, but equally loves to retreat into silent solitude. She is a writer who follows a hidden path, into an unfamiliar world. If you just surrender and go with her on her eerie journey, you will find that you have surrendered to enchantment, as if in a voluptuous and fantastic dream. She makes you believe everything she sees in her fantasy and dreams. But as well you take a journey to the frozen mountain peaks of the north of Europe, to the crowded sweating streets of Mexico or Africa. Her characters are wonderfully real and wholly believable perfectly situated in her richly textured prose. She’s a lovely person and she writes with exquisite powers of description! She’s simply great! R. McKelley
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Chi è Claudine? Lei è appassionata nel vivere al presente una vita equilibrata e autentica, con una sana dose di humour! Ama viaggiare per il mondo, esplorare nuovi luoghi, persone e cibo, ma ugualmente ama ritirarsi in solitudine, nel silenzio. E' una scrittrice che segue un sentiero nascosto, verso un mondo sconosciuto. Se solo vi arrendete e andate con lei in questa spettacolare avventura, realizzerete che vi siete confidati all’incantevole, come in un sogno fantastico ed avvolgente. Vi farà credere ad ogni cosa che lei vede nei suoi stessi sogni e fantasie. Ma inizierete anche un viaggio verso le cime ghiacciate del nord Europa, verso le strade affollate del Messico o Africa. I protagonisti sono magnificamente reali e totalmente credibili stupendamente inseriti nella ricca trama di prosa. E’ una “grande” persona e scrive con uno squisito potere descrittivo. E’ semplicemente magnifica.
Unless otherwise indicated, the images and multimedia products published are taken directly from the Web and are copyright of the individual authors.Their publication does not intend to violate any copyright;in the event that a violation has occurred, please report it to me and I will arrange for its immediate removal.
In the specific Poesie * Multilingual Poetry section, there are the direct links to Swans.com where you will find the multilingual poems written with Guido Monte and commented by Francesca Saieva, two dear friends from whom I learned to give a new guise to poetic emotions. Sadly, Guido Monte died on December 5, 2017, he leaves to me a very special memory that will remain indelible in my heart. Here, I like to finally insert the whole textes but please note that these are more than ever linked by copyright, for any permissions please apply the requirements of the Swans.com site operator.
by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni& Masarwas (Swans – October 18, 2010)
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thora dhe kwa che che spirit, awake to
entre tú y yo under the same sky… miroir les yeux où j’ai lu douleur et désespoir, come especho los ojos de los infants je pleure en réalisant mes limites
“africa souls from sea and earth africa spirit africa destruction murder africa soleil africa soleil de ténèbres africa lost forgotten people africa échos de tout”
appears the voice of night, cries of the awakening earth, détras del sonido llega la aurora soften the glimmering sky, now silenced, i lean and listen
by G. Monte, C.Giovannoni & C. Orff (Swans – August 23, 2010)
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… and the existential needs: mundus ac inferi transeunt world and hades pass over because all is in everything…
Nihil restat nisi nunc, solo l’adesso ci resta, the clock of time stops im Strom, on the stream Portas cerradas detrás de las ilusiones, aveugles les yeux von wem nicht sehen will! mais rien ne s’oppose à ton deuil y lo que perdió, carnal life, se encuentrará de nuevo will be again… nel mentresolo l’adesso ci resta, in the meanwhile only the present for us. Keep close this door! And Time will be prisoner… alas just for another existence. Wenn keiner will gegen Zeit kriegen, le Temps, entlicht will nicht mehr bestehen. Without end or beginning, both are One only.
by D. Walcott, G. Monte & C. Giovannoni(Swans – August 15, 2011)
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“then all the nations of birds lifted together the huge net of the shadows of this earth in multitudinous dialects…”the brother derek says, unity of cada cosas, of all the tongues unity: a way of compassion, tambien mi vista se vuelve sincera, canción del océano! Language of water without boundaries bercés dans son flux, flowing without time. E noi siamo ogni cosa e nessuna, being Everything and Nothing… as one Come isole isolate — secluded islands Islas olvidadas… drifted away long ago. E sarà acqua che dal cielo si riversa, water nourishes life of Earth and Oceans avec sa force qui tout submerge, abrumando el sentido de los dèmas.
by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & P. Handke (Swans – August 25, 2011)
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¿Quién tiene el derecho de juzgar? Who has the right to judge? Para el color de la piel, para el sonido de palabras — lenguas extrañas, extrañandose da la apariencia humana…
Writer who writes words ink over pages of humanity searching for freedom disperazione de la guerre diserzione à la recherche de soi-même Qui a donc le droit de juger… si la désagrégation porte à la désertion, à la destruction… absurdité de l’Homme!
Detrás, aún más detrás todas las palabras pensadas, escritas, habladas…
peter says: Warum bin ich ich und warum nicht du? Warum bin ich hier und warum nicht dort?
deux corps imparfaits, unis — cette image a été gravée sur les pierres par un peuple presque disparu; dans tous les facettes de l’image on voit l’empreinte de quelqu’un que tu n’as pas reconnu dans son voyage secret: un écrivain de quatre sous, un schizophrène paranoïaque et un ausländer turc que seulement l’esprit pénètre, dans les corps tuméfiés de quelques cliniques psychiatriques, jours après jours parmi les tas d’ordures et les fausses fêtes. dans le ciel les bombardiers s’avancent dénués de sens; il lutte en secret sans se reconnaître, sans ressentir sa vie mystérieuse.
Behind, utterly behind, this is the real sense of our presence… here.
I wish I wasn’t me while the wheel of time turns… warum hast Du deine Rücken gezeigt ohne Gefühle… showing your back and keeping moving on? Ages come and go, wir leben und sterben, vivons et mourons… Without pondering the boundaries of flesh mais pas au-dehors… nicht draussen… Inside you have to search deep
l’absence de choses et d’idées pour se regarder en soi même: dream of a crowd, of nothing, of vanity rapetisse en devenant lui-même néant.
Nothingness… and without meaning
How can you doubt above an unwritten destiny… which take shape again and again toujours nouveau, immer anders, over and over. Un coffre-fort sans clés, where we are all kept prisoners.
noire de fumée dans une terre mouillée : des visages effrayés et des verres brisés.
Smoke on the waters of a wet earth… weil fliegen ohne Flügel a flight without wings,
“kat’asphodelion leimona” said homer, on a grey prairie of asphodels no light, only black and waste darkness
am ende we’re thoughtful stardust
sígoura
apó ta váthi
Sluggish gaze upon Hades’ flowery meadow: But how is the color para aquellos no familiarizados con su forma for anyone unsure about its shape? Blind, ciego and unaware… only human con pensamientos críticos y autodestructivos de vez en cuando, de temps en temps self-defeating thoughts. Ciechi e privi di forma sablier aveugle bougie sans lumière en la oscuridad de las sombras only tonalidades de gris.
Homer’s Odyssey quizás se desmenuza, crumbles into empity but en réalité nous sommes que poussière d’étoiles…
Sipping from the blossom of Time: soledad sin imagen, sed sin labios. Schau mal deine Hande para acabar con todo: hands without Macht, sans pouvoir
who with us the dawn, ezra, ngirrwat, ngirrwat dreaming “perchance to dream” said hamlet, i vanished avec le soleil blind i’m ningún, y todos, vanitas, and all is vanity black visible shantih en bro a constructed bridge in the palm of my hand am ende, when you’ll say: come and “così è, se vi pare” dear luigi pirandello, and it’s so if you think so
Worte im Wind, mots dans l’orage: tierra de piedra ardiente. Como camina el tiempo entre la muerte und über mir bebt Lippen ohne Farbe. Finally, here she waits… monotone et solitaire, into the depth solitudine senza volto, soif sans lèvres.
je me trouve encore at home, mais maintenant mon esprit poursuit des étoiles lointaines.
Vele bianche, white sails entre sombras de cielo y mar, unfold the sails white presences of reality… Bring me to the Horizon Déjenme borrar las ilusiones: busquedas perdidas, suave caricia de su isla lejana,
le rêve d’une maison au bord de la mer en été,
where the eye follows those sparkles of white,
dreaming the verses of brother derek dans ma vie, perfect verses like
“island water”
Or is my dreaming hecho come el agua de su mar y los oscuros deseos? Pasos sagrados dejan huellas de agua over beaches,
and i see his verses where derek sees the sail that,
La forteresse est l’âme qui aperçoit le continent de sable, a fortaleza é a alma que mira ao continente de area. Derrière le rocher que je suis en train de regarder par la fenêtre (évident par le mot magique) je sens le coucher du soleil, et je remets le départ à cause d’une lueur de neige sur les cailloux blancs. Forêts, tours blanches, volcans fumants, genèse primordiale, évocation de l’âme archétype.
Em la alma, assim… forte crença… alà, dónde están todas los espectros antiguos. Y yo, aquí encarcelado, I keep my eyes upon the changing colours. Soleil couchant, remuant les ombres, feeble glaze of amaranths and peaches. São as cores da paixão, mas talvez, a ameaça da Terra ruím. There is need of a heavy desert’s storm in which sand may flow as water, falaises où la mer des émotions trouve ses confins. Just there, where dreams start y donde la magía de la Vida termina, and where the magic of Life ends.
le monde présent, un seul temps ordinaire: deuil faim soif pleurs
lacrimae rerum agony of everything
that never ends, não se esqueça sua pequenez e fraqueza largo los rios lágrimas de vidas tears of lives concepts of majestic glory into the waters— silence et suplice reflettent l’avidité e fosco rimane lo sguardo and obscurely we glance up ecce homo, sunt
i’m a tunisian woman, a migrant this is my only travel to the sicily, along a sea that i call mediterranean channel.
“tís d’oiden ei tò zen men ésti catthanein… who understands if life is death or death is life?”
true words on this death-boat this night,
comme les navigateurs de l’antiquité,
and i feel lonely here, in front of black waves they leave me to my fate. unha boca sen respiro, ollos sen visións inside the darkness, but esperando una oportunidad.
Si je ferme les yeux, enfin je peux voir la réalité qui m’est occultée… seulement les yeux du cœur peuvent distinguer la multitude de ces subtils enchantements qui passent près de nous comme des gouttes d’eau.
Je peux seulement sourir, avec doucer et dignité, à la mort qui s’approche. dans ma vie, c’est ça le seul sens, le plus grand qui reste, maintenant que, tout sens s’évanouit à jamais dans le brouillard.
“who understands if life is death or death is life?”
Rescatandos los deseos dreams et rêves mémoires d’autres vies. Sencillo humano y divino Entres corazones et chansons subtiles. Forgotten archetype views Takes shape, into our minds… Cuando mano los pónen De forma forma explícita But then a sorrow; where personas analfabetas les pensées restent piégées tra rami e ricami
books: only return of fragments, of emotion on words’ communion along gesti e sguardi quotidiani common gestures and gazes also if in far places and far times
And there was the human above absurdity Along ages and behind understanding…
And Dante: “Halfway along our life’s path, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita” Guided across the Acheron by Charon through the limbo of the Unknown… Where was the Polar Star, showing the right path to follow? Comme les navigateurs de l’Antiquité dans la nuit, deep into the night Navigators of the Past reaching for the present of memories gone… Where? This far is your Home où défile l’oubli de la Terre promise? How can you find answers if nobody can ever ask the right questions…
If I close my eyes I see je regarde avec les mains qui touchent le désespoir agony over the sea where death embraces life.
can you tell me where my country lies?
well,
every land can be the centre of the world,
black elk said, black elk,
scrittore analfabeta
deep
illiterate writer
far, but
far from where? lontano da dove
(archetypal words-roots from our brother claudio) and leaves and seashells from death-boats.
by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni(Swans – June 28, 2010)
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De las profundidades rien de nouveau, mesmo respiro of forgotten ways
¿Que mas profundo? The force of Spirits? When they achieve… immortality? Aber es gibt keine Verbindlichkeit, wirklich… Zeit ist vergangen… et toi, toujours sans espoir buscas a las sombras de tú respiro.
Beyond time and believing Derrière la passion des hommes et des femmes Atman Ego [sum]
Busqueda sin tiempo y lugares Achieving nothing but emptiness Into the core of our souls Adentro el corason espiritual Ta Tvam asi. That One you are Who search for the true himself? Duality reach meaninglessness Who am I? Ta Tvam asi… Atman Or maybe is there disbelieve Into believing…
“Warum bin ich und warum nicht du?”
¿Que yo no soy yo y tú no eres tú? Un sol respiro The flow of pure Energy Union dans les affections
tamah tamah, darkness too many men inside only to forget life and tvam, yourself
but seeing the atamanam, the unity of the whole you cannot hate, no more
i’m always in prison, ein nichts, but my mind is now at far away stars, a uma pessoa na beira do mar, but suddenly the river of the time, mto ya muda, o rio do tempo, hits me, and i realize that i won’t be able to arrive alive to the big chance of my life. many years will go by, just a few through the mountains, but too many through a man’s life. but how to resist to the thought that the clue moment still has to come? mas como se faz para resistir ao pensamento que o momento decisivo ainda esteja por acontecer?
now i’m sitting alone on a chair, nighttime. ni usiku… but all of a sudden, no quarto coberto de escuridão, i go close to the window, to look at the stars again, and i smile, i do smile, tenderly to the death that one day will come, that’s my last possible way of life, now that all has disappeared as fog sasa kila kitu kimetokomea kama ukungu agora que tudo esvaece como névoa.
Prisonnière dans mes pensées, même si mon esprit poursuit les souvenirs qui m’emmènent à toi. Slave of memories, hidden into the cosmic power of remembering. Flows down… aguas corrientes pesadillas estrañas, sin formas, que recogen polvo de estrellas y junto a ellas, con ojos mirantes la oscuridade, lloro lágrimas amargas. J’ai épuisé les demandes restées sans réponses… My trembling voice asking no more questions, y por último, dejar esta vida? Where am I? Si je continue, le long de cette tortueuse chaussée, esto ya estaba escrito, sin dudas, sin preguntas y tampoco respuestas. I’m human, indeed, alone and naked of all my dreams… And when the night’ll cover up my soul, jamais plus prisonnière de la vie, néanmoins embrassée à la mort… La noche ya está delante de las ventanas, sonrisas me llenan de felicidad y ternura, witness are the stars and the blur of thoughts alike fog, no more sand, for me, into the clepsydra of Time… Réveille-toi! Despiertate! Wake up!
wind gemidos of winter of yellow, and red leaves to a dark floor, and stop, nothing to say no palabra no volver nothing in front of perdute nuvole-clouds and vapours, rain, fire, burst chasms, segni another dead leaf another cloud and dead thoughts over my mind of a dying animal of desperate people of starvation of my times’ horror, no word to say in front of them
After dark, when all seems lost, we experiment the continuity of Light! Dualité indissoluble, busqueda de los seres viventes quest of humanity, since we are all striving recherche d’une raison le long chemins dangereux. Dia y noche day and night. Invierno followed by spring, l’esperanza ayuda la sobrevivencia! La condition humaine hooked on this frustrated flesh the only way to achieve freedom. Liberté que n’est pas ici not above this material world shouldn’t be so difficult every time I come across otra persona souhaiter en silence, without words, felicidad That could be the start poiché solo amore love can fight against todas las guerras, chaque conflict…
Think of a Better World, act accordingly, look positively and change your inadequate habits… the Future can be different, with Peace for all peoples, for a Nature and its protected creatures! There are many things that you can change yourself… Respect those around you, help the weak, always set a good example. We have “borrowed” the planet and animals from future generations… so behave appropriately, they don’t belong to us! To the list, add what you know is good and right, and this is already a good start… Serenity into 2021, Claudine.
Pensa ad un Mondo Migliore, agisci di conseguenza, guarda con positività e cambia le tue abitudini inadeguate… il Futuro può essere diverso, con Pace per tutti i popoli, per una Natura e le sue creature protette! Sono molte cose che tu stesso puoi cambiare… Rispetta chi ti sta attorno, aiuta i deboli, dai sempre il buon esempio. Il pianeta e gli animali li abbiamo “in prestito” dalle future generazioni… quindi comportati in modo appropriato, essi non ci appartengono! Alla lista, aggiungi ciò che sai essere buono e giusto, e questo è già un buon inizio… Sereno 2021, Claudine.
A blanket of dark clouds covers the sky of that gloomy afternoon, yet an indefinable joy drags my thoughts, through those same alleys where, a few weeks before, an autumn sun had radiated over our steps. The smell of wet leaves and grass, tickles the desire for a moment of intimacy in some bistro; the man winks amused as if he had read my mind. “Shall we have a cup of tea? I know a very special little place not far from here, I’m sure you’ll love it.” He holds me tightly against him, then ruffles my hair in an affectionate caress and, raising my coat collar, adds: “I am mortified, I had ordered for you four days of sunshine! I will have to work so that you don’t get bored. I’m so glad you agreed to come back so soon, you can’t imagine my joy!” His eyes contemplate my amused face, I feel his gaze pierce my boldness as in his voice I perceive an indefinable, tender but at the same time too rational bending. His face appears very pale, surrounded by long raven hair that with spite of every puff of wind descend to hide his eyes decorated with delicate and almost feminine eyelashes. His lips are dry; he moistens them with the tip of his tongue, gesture which brings a shiver down my spine. The song of the birds perched on the almost bare branches, and then further on the screeching of the tires on the wet asphalt, brings us back to the present. He smiles and two dimples on the sides of the mouth give to that man’s expression a touch of childishness. Along the avenue, the stalls selling caramel-covered apples or toasted almond brittle, remind me of the first time I visited Paris, about thirty years ago. Nothing has really changed. Only my mood has changed over time; but the young girl, at the time a little fearful and a bit shy, gave way to a woman who pursues dreams and reveries. Mistletoe garlands and other decorative objects with winter smells and colours attract my attention. I stop looking at the elderly seller who smokes a cigar, sitting on an old and worn straw chair. Every wrinkle is a story; the basque lowered on the forehead, hides a lively intelligence ready to confront the harshness of life. I could find myself anywhere, in any city in Europe, yet something is different from ranting sellers in a market in Rome or from the brusque shouting of shopkeepers in the squares of Hamburg. Here the faces take on a different expression: French is such a romantic language that it softens and appeases. Looking up, in the direction of the gray slate that gradually dyes the vault of the sky, the dome of the Sacre Coeur appears illuminated and shines as if a ray of sunlight had crept into the dark tents of the coming night. “Viens, je t’en prie… suive-moi, ont y est presque. Derrière la prochaine route, tu vas l’adorer, mon amour!” The words whispered in my left ear, with that deep and so sensual voice of his, tighten like crystal threads around my heart. I let myself be dragged along semi-dark corners where the light from the street lamps fails to make a breach: this is the Rive Gauche, the Saint German des Près of the artists. Entering the small atrium, I perceive the aroma of cinnamon and orange. It appears deserted: curiously amused I walk around; passing between the shelves filled with very old dusty volumes and certainly one more interesting than the other.
Oh yes! Joshua, in his most intimate, undeniably knows my every passion. For many months he studied me carefully reading all my writings, my every poem. Who could have thought of giving me this emotion by leading me for tea in a literary Café? Who would dare to rummage among the buds hidden in the fertile earth of my intellect, and do it in such a shamelessly delicate manner? “No, I don’t ask you how you did it – I miss a breath while with one hand I pull his scarf towards my face – you have stripped me of every secret… but now you deserve a kiss!” I feel reddened cheeks, with extreme gentleness I place my lips on top of his and remain motionless for a few seconds. “Thank you. It is the most beautiful surprise you could make me. Je t’adore… merci infiniment!” I follow him through a labyrinth of corridors then to the back, an old leather sofa crumpled by the wear of time, stands at the bottom of a large secluded room. Overflowing shelves of books are lost towards the dark ceiling, the light is tenuous and soft and next to the sofa a huge silver candelabrum releases golden flames. A large bouquet of white chrysanthemums and royal lilies decorates a corner; the scent of flowers is so intense that it eliminates the smell of cinnamon and orange that I initially perceived when entering that place. For a moment I close my eyes as I recall the immense bouquet that had accompanied the body of my beloved father on his last journey. I try to hold back the emotion that chokes my breath and I try to chase away the anguish. The man looks at me, surprised. I betray myself as water crystals fill my eyes and then overflow and descend along my already purple cheeks. With a polite gesture the man helps me to take off the cloak that he puts it on a chair: then he passes both thumbs on my cheeks holding my head in his cold snow-white hands. Serious, with a voice that is now worried, asks me: “What is it? Did something bring you distant memories? I perceive it in the soul that you suffer, come, and let me wrap you in my arms, so you can let the anguish out. I’m here, my love, you can trust me. Tell me your visions: I would like to share your feelings even if I later may suffer too. I can accompany you along that abyss that sometimes divides beings. I’m here for you. I’ve been waiting for you for so long, for so many years.” I don’t know how long I hang onto that rock that brings me shelter and comfort, the storm inside me subsides and I finally manage to return to the present. “You feel better? How beautiful you are… like that, with shining eyes… and with this dress you remind me of a lady of the early nineteenth century.” Then he still caresses my hair by passing his long fingers through it, I feel a slight tremor and feel a tightening in my heart. My God, but why this crazy devotion? Why did fate make it known to me? When in past lives did we share the same love and who were we? Everything repeats… as in the plot of a novel of mine, and here Thanatos releases visions and memories. But Joshua is here, as real as his strong arms, with his incredible tenderness, is not a dream but rather concreteness that drags me into the pure madness of not knowing who I really am and what I pursue. I feel so vulnerable, yet so human! “Can I order tea? Then I want to read you something special. I’m sure you’ll like it.” He bends down to kiss my forehead and then disappears behind an olive-coloured damask curtain with large black flowers in relief. I am blurred in perceptions, a part of me feels tightrope while the other wishes to accept its condition and temporal reality, with its obligations and its constraints. This strange place reminds me of something indefinable, the smell of old paper, printing ink and leather is mixed together and allow so many images to resurface in my memory.
I had always loved to spend hours and hours in bookstores, leafing through the books that attracted me the most or looking for a special gift to give to a friend. When I was studying in the United States, I discovered that in Boston there were several bookstores where you could comfortably stay and read for hours: nobody bothered by asking if you needed something specific. Sometimes I stayed there for a whole afternoon and so I ended up making friends with the people who worked there. Even later, traveling across continents, I had kept the habit of visiting, in every city, its bookstores. I had also known wonderful ones in Great Britain, places where a ghostly silence reigned and the lights were always too dim and did not allow you to sink into long readings or there was always the risk of falling asleep, curled up in some armchair. All in those places there was not the same atmosphere that was found in the squalid public libraries, where everything is arranged according to a precise scheme and everything is catalogued. Even the smell is not the same. But perhaps even this is just my feeling because I prefer the ancient, the antique, the strange, the particular. I close my eyes again but this time the memories are pleasant and I feel transported back in a few decades. When I open them again, I see before my eyes the figure dressed in black who looks at me with dreamy eyes: Joshua. “I found the volume where I left it last week! Madame Favre, the owner of this bookstore, will bring us tea with almond and honey biscuits – then he smiles at me again showing those two delicious dimples on the sides of his face – they don’t have Cantucci with Vin Santo. I am mortified.” In his hands, he holds a large book of black leather, bound and with gilt bands engraved in relief; strange doodles in shiny metal adorn the volume. Intrigued, I observe the hands of man caressing the skin of the book with an indescribable delicacy. I mentally feel the touch and feel my stomach tighten in a strange grip. “It is very old; it contains great mysteries that have remained hidden for centuries.” Again he smiles and his eyes shine in the light of the candles, I feel a touch of fear and the strange sensation begins to dilate like amber crystals left in the intense light of Sun. I don’t break the magic of that moment by asking the question that burns in my mind, I’m sure it will be something special. That’s what he did .. and every time he wanted to surprise me, he always left me appalled. His voice caresses and seduces me, leading me along a past filled with spells that become thinner like needles to finally penetrate my flesh. Every once in a while his eyes rise from the pages to stare at me, as if to point out the emphasis of what he is reading: a look full of mystery that touches me bringing my skin to feel disturbing sensations. His mouth whispers certain words, breathes and then for a fraction of a second damped in mid-air in the rickety candlestick light. Perhaps it is the beauty of this language that manages to weave emotions of infinite sensuality and sweetness, perhaps it is the pure passion that shines through every gesture of man, perhaps it is only the inescapable need of my Nature forced to seek its traces of Soul. It is difficult to tell every imperceptible emotion that touches on the most profound intimacy. Wrapped by the caress of his voice, I slowly slide along those crystal threads that lead the Being to vibrate with a desire for belonging. My mind runs following the plot of the story, pausing at each pause to catch my breath while Joshua, delighted, realizes my state of mind. “I knew you would love this text… it’s like it was written for you, by your nature, for your Research! I knew… I know… I have always known you… and I am immensely happy that you are here, with me, to share this magical seduction of words.” “Joshua – I try to answer, but my voice is full of trepidation and again, with difficulty, I can hold back my tears – please, don’t interrupt the reading… go on, seduce my Soul like you are doing! Je t’adore… oui, s’il te plaît, continue à lire.” He smiles at me but closes the book and lays it on the low table above which our tea has already cooled. He approached with a slow movement, at first I perceive his smell that reminds me of the woods of southern India, then it is his warmth that meets my hands and my face. In the background, the oriental melodies of Loreena McKennith fill my every sense: the breath is accelerated by the pulse of the heart that seems to want to burst in my chest. Then Joshua’s hands take my shoulders, I can’t hold his gaze for a long time and then I close my eyes. With the lightness of a flap his hair touches my face as I perceive his lips on the neck; they are warm and humid, they touch the jugular vein and then gently grasp the skin of the neck.
Everything is transformed, while with my thoughts I run beyond that place of magic that smells of ink and ancient. There is no longer the small road, there are no longer crowded bistros of shouting people and cheerful laughter, and there is no longer a shadow of the screeching of cars along the boulevards of Saint German des Près. I find myself embraced at Joshua in the central nave of Notre-Dame, and then along the ambulatory, while he tells me the story of that majestic temple of veneration built on the remains of a pagan one dedicated to Jupiter dating back to the 3rd century. The light that breaks on the apse windows projects its multicolored kaleidoscope, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Joshua recalls its true story… as if only he knew the existence and the reason for its construction. Then, in confiding that secret to me in that place of magic, he kissed me making me feel every molecule of my body as it had seldom happened to me. In that beautiful Cathedral, in the middle of the Seine on the Île de la Cité, I would have left an indelible trace that, secretly, I still guard in my heart.
(c) Claudine Giovannoni
Un manto di oscure nuvole ricopre il cielo di quel pomeriggio uggioso, eppure un’indefinibile gioia trascina i miei pensieri, attraverso quelle stesse viuzze dove, qualche settimana prima, un sole autunnale aveva irradiato sopra i nostri passi. L’odore delle foglie e dell’erba bagnate solletica il desiderio di un momento d’intimità in un qualche bistrot; l’uomo ammicca divertito quasi mi avesse letto nel pensiero. “Andiamo a berci una tazza di tè? Conosco un posticino davvero speciale non molto distante da qui, sono sicuro che l’adorerai.” Mi stringe a sé con più forza poi mi arruffa i capelli in una carezza affettuosa e, sollevandomi il bavero del capotto, aggiunge: “Sono mortificato, avevo ordinato per te quattro giorni di sole! Dovrò impegnarmi affinché non ti annoi. Sono così felice che hai accettato di tornare così presto, non puoi immaginare la mia gioia!” I suoi occhi contemplano il mio viso divertito, sento il suo sguardo trafiggere la mia baldanza mentre nella sua voce percepisco una flessione indefinibile, tenera, ma al contempo fin troppo razionale. Il suo viso appare pallidissimo, contornato dai lunghi capelli corvini che con dispetto a ogni sbuffo di vento scendono a nascondergli gli occhi decorati da ciglia delicate e quasi femminili. Le sue labbra sono secche, le inumidisce con la punta della lingua gesto questo, che mi porta un brivido lungo la schiena. Il canto degli uccelli appollaiati sopra i rami quasi spogli, poi più in là lo stridere delle gomme sull’asfalto bagnato, ci riporta al presente. Lui sorride e due fossette ai lati della bocca danno a quell’espressione d’uomo un non so che di fanciullesco. Lungo il viale, le bancarelle che vendono mele ricoperte di caramello oppure croccante di mandorle tostate, mi riportano alla memoria la prima volta che avevo visitato Parigi, una trentina d’anni or sono. Nulla è cambiato, in verità. Solo il mio stato d’animo è mutato nel tempo; ma la fanciulla d’allora, sbarazzina ed un po’ timida, ha lasciato il posto ad una donna che insegue sogni e chimere. Le ghirlande di vischio e altri oggetti decorativi dagli odori e colori dell’inverno attirano la mia attenzione. Mi fermo guardando il venditore in là con gli anni che fuma un sigaro, seduto sopra una vecchia e logora sedia impagliata. Ogni sua ruga è una storia, il basco calato sulla fronte nasconde una viva intelligenza pronta a confrontarsi con l’asprezza della vita. Potrei trovarmi ovunque, in qualsiasi città d’Europa, eppure qualcosa è diverso dallo sbraitare dei venditori in un mercato di Roma oppure dal vociare brusco dei negozianti sulle piazze di Amburgo. Qui i visi assumono un’espressione diversa nella parlata: il francese è una lingua così romantica che addolcisce e rabbonisce. Alzando lo sguardo, in direzione del grigio ardesia che a poco a poco tinge la volta del cielo, la cupola del Sacre Coeur appare illuminata e brilla come se un raggio di sole si fosse insinuato tra le oscure tende della notte che sta per giungere. “Viens, je t’en prie… suive-moi, ont y est presque. Derrière la prochaine route, tu vas l’adorer, mon amour!” Le parole sussurrate nel mio orecchio sinistro, con quella sua voce profonda e così sensuale, si stringono come fili di cristallo attorno al mio cuore. Mi lascio trascinare lungo angoli semibui dove la luce dei lampioni non riesce a fare breccia: questa è la Rive Gauche, la Saint German des Près degli artisti. Entrando nel piccolo atrio, percepisco l’aroma della cannella e arancio. Appare deserto: divertita curioso attorno, passando tra le scansie ricolme di vecchissimi volumi impolverati e certamente uno più interessante dell’altro. Eh sì! Joshua, nel suo più intimo, innegabilmente conosce ogni mia passione. Per lunghi mesi mi ha studiata leggendo con attenzione ogni mio scritto, ogni mia lirica. Chi avrebbe potuto pensare di regalarmi quest’emozione conducendomi per un tè in un ritrovo letterario? Chi avrebbe osato frugare tra i germogli nascosti nella terra feconda del mio intelletto, e farlo in maniera così spudoratamente delicata? “No, non ti chiedo come hai fatto – mi scappa un soffio mentre con una mano tiro la sua sciarpa verso il mio viso – mi hai spogliata di ogni segreto… ma ora ti meriti un bacio…” Mi sento le gote arrossate, con estrema dolcezza poso le labbra sopra le sue e rimango immobile per qualche secondo. “Grazie. E’ la sorpresa più bella che potevi farmi. Je t’adore… merci infiniment!” Lo seguo attraverso un labirinto di corridoi poi sul retro, un vecchio divano in pelle sgualcita dall’usura del tempo, troneggia in fondo ad un amplio locale appartato. Scafali straripanti di libri si perdono verso il buio soffitto, la luce è tenue e morbida e vicino al divano un enorme candelabro d’argento sprigiona fiammelle dorate.
Un grosso mazzo di crisantemi bianchi e di gigli reali decora un angolo; il profumo dei fiori è così intenso da sopprimere l’odore della cannella e arancio che avevo inizialmente percepito entrando in quel luogo. Per un attimo chiudo gli occhi mentre ritorna alla mia memoria l’immenso bouquet che aveva accompagnato la salma del mio adorato padre nel suo ultimo viaggio. Cerco di trattenere l’emozione che mi strozza il respiro e provo a scacciare il magone. L’uomo mi guarda, sorpreso. Mi tradisco mentre cristalli d’acqua mi riempiono gli occhi per poi traboccare e scendere lungo le guance già imporporate. Con un gesto garbato l’uomo mi aiuta a togliere il mantello che ripone sopra una sedia: poi mi passa entrambi i pollici sulle guance tenendo la mia testa tra le sue fredde mani candide come la neve. Serio, con voce ora preoccupata, mi chiede: “Che c’è? Qualcosa ti ha riportato memorie lontane? Lo percepisco nell’anima che soffri, vieni, lascia che ti avvolga tra le mie braccia, così potrai sfogarti. Sono qui, amore mio, di me ti puoi fidare. Raccontami le tue visioni: desidero condividere con te ogni tua sensazione anche se dopo soffrirò anch’io. Posso accompagnarti lungo quel baratro che a volte divide gli esseri. Sono qui per te. Ti ho attesa e cercata così a lungo, per così tanti anni.” Non so quanto tempo resto aggrappata a quella roccia che mi porta riparo e conforto, la tempesta dentro di me si placa e finalmente riesco a ritornare al presente. “Ti senti meglio? Come sei bella… così, con gli occhi lucidi… e con quest’abito mi ricordi una dama d’inizio ottocento.” Poi ancora mi accarezza i capelli passandovi attraverso le lunghe dita, percepisco un lieve tremito e provo una stretta al cuore. Mio Dio, ma perché questa folle devozione? Perché il destino me lo ha fatto conoscere? Quando abbiamo nelle vite passate condiviso lo stesso amore e chi eravamo? Tutto si ripete… come nella trama di un mio romanzo, ed ecco che Thanatos rilascia visioni e memorie. Ma Joshua è qui, reale quanto le sue forti braccia, con la sua incredibile tenerezza, non è un sogno ma bensì concretezza che mi trascina nella pura follia del non sapere chi veramente sono e cosa perseguo. Mi sento così vulnerabile, eppure così donna! “Posso ordinare del tè? Poi desidero leggerti qualcosa di speciale. Sono sicuro gradirai.” Si china per baciarmi la fronte e poi scompare dietro una tenda di damasco color verde oliva con grandi fiori neri in rilievo. Sono offuscata nelle percezioni, una parte di me si sente funambola mentre l’altra desidera accettare la sua condizione e realtà temporale, con i suoi obblighi e i suoi vincoli. Questo strano luogo mi ricorda qualcosa d’indefinibile, l’odore della carta vetusta, dell’inchiostro di stampa e del cuoio si rimescola e permettono a tante immagini di riaffiorare nella mia memoria. Avevo sempre adorato passare ore e ore nelle librerie, sfogliando i libri che più mi attiravano oppure cercando un regalo particolare da donare ad un amico. Quando studiavo negli Stati Uniti, avevo scoperto che a Boston c’erano diverse librerie dove si poteva comodamente rimanere a leggere per ore: nessuno ti importunava chiedendoti se necessitassi qualcosa di specifico. A volte ci restavo per interi pomeriggi e così avevo finito per fare amicizia con le persone che vi lavoravano. Anche in seguito, viaggiando attraverso i continenti, avevo mantenuto l’abitudine di visitare, in ogni città, le sue librerie. Ne avevo conosciute di stupende anche in Gran Bretania, luoghi dove regnava un silenzio spettrale e le luci erano sempre troppo fioche e non ti permettevano di sprofondare in lunghe letture o c’era sempre il rischio di addormentarsi, accoccolata in una qualche poltrona. Tutti in quei luoghi non c’era la stessa atmosfera che si trovava nelle squallide biblioteche pubbliche, dove ogni cosa è riordinata secondo uno schema preciso e tutto è catalogato. Persino l’odore non è lo stesso. Ma forse anche questa è solo una mia sensazione poiché prediligo l’antico, il vetusto, lo strano, il particolare. Chiudo gli occhi nuovamente ma questa volta le memorie sono piacevoli e mi sento trasportata indietro nel tempo di qualche decennio. Quando li riapro, vedo davanti al mio sguardo la figura vestita di nero che mi guarda con occhi sognanti: Joshua. “Ho ritrovato il volume dove l’avevo lasciato la scorsa settimana! Madame Favre, la proprietaria di questo salotto, ci porterà il tè con dei biscotti di mandorle e miele – poi mi sorride mostrando nuovamente quelle due deliziose fossette ai lati del viso – non hanno i cantucci con il Vinsanto. Sono mortificato.” Fra le mani tiene un grosso libro di pelle nera, rilegato e con fasce dorate incise in rilievo; strani ghirigori in metallo brillante ornano il volume.
Incuriosita, osservo le mani dell’uomo che accarezzano la pelle del libro con una delicatezza indescrivibile. Mentalmente ne percepisco il tocco e mi sento stringere lo stomaco in una strana morsa. “E’ molto vecchio, racchiude grandi misteri che sono restati occultati nei secoli.” Nuovamente sorride e i suoi occhi brillano alla luce delle candele, provo una punta di timore e la stranissima sensazione inizia a dilatarsi come cristalli d’ambra lasciati alla luce intensa del sole. Non rompo la magia di quell’attimo ponendo la domanda che mi brucia nella mente, sono sicura che sarà qualcosa di speciale. Così è fatto lui… e ogni altra volta che ha voluto sorprendermi mi ha sempre lasciato sgomenta. La sua voce mi accarezza e seduce conducendomi lungo un passato ricolmo d’incantesimi che si assottigliano come aghi per infine penetrare la mia carne. Ogni tanto i suoi occhi si sollevano dalle pagine per fissarmi, come volesse rilevare l’enfasi di ciò che sta leggendo: uno sguardo pieno di mistero che mi sfiora portando la mia pelle a provare conturbanti sensazioni. La sua bocca sussurra talune parole, respirate e poi per una frazione di secondo smorzate a mezz’aria nella traballante luce del candelabro. Forse è la bellezza di questa lingua che riesce a tessere emozioni di sensualità e dolcezza infinite, forse è la passione pura che traspare da ogni gesto dell’uomo, forse è unicamente il bisogno imprescindibile della mia Natura costretta a ricercare le sue tracce d’Anima. E’ difficile poter raccontare ogni impercettibile emozione che sfiora la più profonda intimità. Avvolta dalla carezza della sua voce, scivolo lentamente lungo quei fili di cristallo che conducono l’Essere a vibrare con un desiderio d’appartenenza. La mia mente corre seguendo la trama della storia, soffermandosi a ogni pausa per riprendere fiato mentre Joshua, deliziato, si accorge del mio stato d’animo. “Sapevo che avresti amato questo testo… è come se fosse stato scritto per te, per la tua natura, per la tua Ricerca! Sapevo… so… ti conosco da sempre… e sono immensamente felice che tu sia qui, con me, a condividere questa magica seduzione di parole.” “Joshua – cerco di rispondere, ma la mia voce è carica di trepidazione e nuovamente, a fatica, riesco a trattenere il pianto – ti prego, non interrompere la lettura… continua, seduci la mia Anima come stai facendo! Je t’adore… oui, s’il te plaît, continue à lire.” Mi sorride ma richiude il libro e lo posa sulla bassa tavola sopra la quale il nostro tè già si è raffreddato. Si avvicina con un movimento lento, dapprima percepisco il suo odore che mi ricorda i boschi dell’India del sud, poi è il suo calore che incontra le mie mani e il mio viso. In sottofondo le melodie orientaleggianti di Loreena McKennith riempiono ogni mio senso: il respiro è accelerato dalle pulsazioni del cuore che sembra voglia scoppiarmi nel petto. Poi le mani di Joshua prendono le mie spalle, non riesco a sostenere a lungo il suo sguardo e quindi chiudo gli occhi. Con la leggerezza d’un battito d’ali i suoi capelli sfiorano i mio viso mentre percepisco le sue labbra sul collo; sono calde ed umide, mi sfiorano la vena giugulare per poi morbidamente afferrare la pelle della nuca. Tutto si trasforma, mentre col pensiero corro oltre quel luogo di magia che profuma d’inchiostro e antico. Non c’è più la piccola strada, non esistono più i bistrots affollati di persone vocianti e di risa allegre, non vi è più ombra dello stridere delle auto lungo i boulevards di Saint German des Près. Mi ritrovo abbracciata a Joshua nella navata centrale della Notre-Dame, poi lungo il deambulatorio, mentre lui mi racconta la storia di quel maestoso tempio di venerazione costruito sulle vestigia di un tempio pagano dedicato a Giove risalenti al III secolo. La luce che s’infrange sulle vetrate dell’abside, proietta il suo caleidoscopio multicolore creando un’atmosfera da sogno. Joshua rievoca la sua vera storia… come se solo lui conoscesse l’esistenza e la ragione della sua costruzione. Poi, nel confidarmi quel segreto in quel luogo di magia, mi aveva baciato facendomi percepire ogni molecola del mio corpo come poche volte mi era accaduto. In quella cattedrale, nel mezzo della Senna sull’île de la Cité, avrei lasciato una traccia indelebile che, segretamente, custodisco tutt’ora nel mio cuore.
The water flows. With it time, which only leaves traces on my body, in my spirit. While indelible memories re-emerge in the dreams of the night that is always too long. The long walks along the sea where the waves carry to the beach the tiny shells with such strange shapes… We were dreaming for hours, looking at the infinite blue and the whitish edges of vigorous waves that crashed against the coral reef. Even now, it seems to me that everything followed a precise pattern: you and me in an earthly paradise. Our Eden, discovered by chance during a sailing trip. You always filled me with sweetness, you shaped me with your infinite tenderness… and I drowned in the green of your cat eyes. – Who are you? – you always wanted to joke when you asked me seriously. Your mind was always racing too fast, like when you maxed out the sails and took the peak waves. You liked the sea. You compared me to your sea that you discovered inch by inch, while with trembling hands you walked the inlets of my body to reach your forbidden beach. You were like the undertow, in the full moon, when love took on the contours of your big body on which the moon was reflected in silver flashes. You appeared immense to me, and I was so small and fragile. But you were sweet. From the taste of the sea, a taste of salt that stopped at the sides of the mouth, on the moist and warm lips that were waiting for you palpitating. – Where will you go one day when you get tired of the sea? – you always wanted to dream. Unaware that I always adore the sea, as I adore the sky, and the earth, as well as I cannot live without fire. The same fire I feel inside, just thinking about those moments, the green of the prairies reflected in your loving gaze. We returned several times to that beach, we knew that it took so little to be able to be together in heaven, on earth and in the sea. You were beautiful, charming… then when I adjusted your uniform’s tie, you always teased me: – Look, I’m in control of you, from here. You don’t have many passengers today and I, don’t forget, I’m always your superior! – Feelings shared at ten thousand meters, as speed blunted the distances between continents and new frontiers opened up before us. It was love. A feeling of pure madness. Both were aware that everything was like a dream. Like the New Year in Hong Kong and the honeymoon in Sydney… while the water flowed and with it the time. – Will you love me for eternity? – you asked in a voice broken by emotion, squeezing me tightly against your body. I remember the softness of your raven hair, while with my fingers I played with your nape with lips that sought yours. – Until death separates us – I remember having answered you…
Italian translation
Scorre l’acqua. Con essa il tempo, che solo lascia tracce sul mio corpo, nel mio spirito. Mentre i ricordi, indelebili riemergono nei sogni della notte sempre troppo lunga.Ricordi? Le lunghe passeggiate lungo il mare dove le onde portano sulla spiaggia le minuscole conchiglie dalle forme così strane…Stavamo per ore a sognare, guardando l’azzurro infinito ed i bordi biancastri d’onde vigorose che s’infrangevano contro la barriera corallina. Anche ora mi sembra che tutto seguiva un disegno preciso: io e te in un paradiso terrestre. Il nostro Eden, scoperto per caso durante una gita in barca a vela. Mi hai sempre riempita di dolcezze, mi hai plasmata con la tua tenerezza infinita… ed io affogavo nel verde dei tuoi occhi da gatto. – Chi sei? – avevi sempre voglia di scherzare, quando con serietà me lo chiedevi. La tua mente correva sempre troppo veloce, come quando tiravi al massimo le scotte e prendevi le onde di punta. Ti piaceva il mare. Mi paragonavi al tuo mare che scoprivi centimetro dopo centimetro, mentre con mani tremanti percorrevi le insenature del mio corpo per raggiungere la tua spiaggia proibita. Eri come la risacca, nel plenilunio, quando l’amore assumeva i contorni del tuo grande corpo sul quale la luna si rifletteva in guizzi argentei. Mi apparivi immenso, ed io così piccola e fragile. Ma eri dolce. Dal sapore di mare, gusto di sale che si fermava ai lati della bocca, sulle labbra umide e calde che ti attendevano palpitando. – Dove andrai, un giorno, quando ti sarai stancata del mare? – avevi sempre voglia di sognare. Ignaro che io adoro sempre il mare, come adoro il cielo, e la terra, come pure non posso vivere senza il fuoco. Lo stesso fuoco che provo dentro, al solo pensare a quei momenti, al verde delle praterie riflesse nel tuo sguardo innamorato. Siamo ritornati diverse volte su quella spiaggia, sapevamo che bastava così poco per riuscire a stare insieme in cielo, sulla terra e nel mare. Eri bellissimo, affascinante… quando poi aggiustavo la tua cravatta dell’uniforme sempre mi prendevi in giro: – Guarda che ti controllo, da qui. Oggi non hai molti passeggeri ed io, non scordarlo, sono sempre il tuo superiore! – Sentimenti condivisi a diecimila metri, mentre la velocità smorzava le distanze tra i continenti e nuove frontiere si aprivano davanti a noi.Era amore. Un sentimento di pura follia. Entrambi consapevoli che tutto era come in un sogno. Come il capodanno ad Hong Kong e la luna di miele a Sidney… mentre l’acqua scorreva e con essa il tempo. – Mi amerai per l’eternità? – chiedevi con voce rotta dall’emozione stringendomi forte contro il tuo corpo. Ricordo il morbido dei tuoi capelli corvini, mentre con le dita giocavo con la tua nuca con labbra che cercavano le tue. – Fino a che la morte non ci separerà – ricordo d’averti risposto…
It was a decisive weekend for biodiversity in our little Switzerland. This doesn’t mean that the problems for some species of animals are over. There will always be hunters aware that in order to practice their bloodthirsty “sport”, they will kill pregnant ungulates or undersized one’s mistaking them for some other species… they will kill the dog of the fellow hunter by confusing him with a boar or worse, they will shoot at another hunter. A fatal mistake, which unfortunately happens all too often even at our latitudes. There always will be poachers of all kinds, even those who are game-wardens by profession, which happened and which caused a scandal in western Switzerland a couple weeks ago. Therealways will be the bloodthirsty on the hunt for trophies: coveted by personalities who love the macabre ornament, the horns to hang in the farmhouse or domestic living room. There always will be those from abroad who are ready to shell out a lot of euros, which go into the pockets of unscrupulous municipalities. There will be the usual bastards who will set traps or shoot at random, and perhaps not mortally wounding their victims but leaving them to wander for days in abominable pain before dying.
Nobody likes to talk about that. It spreads over the usual veil of silence. It is a truth that sporting hunters, taking up a nice rifle complete with a telescopic sight that allows you to identify the prey from miles away, will not admit. Just as they will not confess to foraging their future prey by putting food and salt in selected areas, to make sure that the animals get used to it. It will then be an easy task, at the opening of the hunting season, to return there no longer with forage but with a rifle and bullets. Although with a small “gap” since the “most cruel canton’s in terms of tolerance towards animals” accepted the changing of the Hunting Law by a large majority, and the list of these cantons was clear even before the count was made. But, at least, for this time, common sense prevailed. The Federal Council will already be planning a rematch: they will be angry by this setback; I dare to say, “bestial” mad.
I was surprised and disappointed by the arguments of many people who, perhaps out of naivety or ignorance, still believe in the “danger” of certain animals towards humans. I can understand that the beaver with its dams floods the cultivated fields and annoys the farmers, or that a swan to protect her offspring attacks the tourist with a camera, creating a moment of panic. We humans are the problem, with our arrogance in wanting to believe ourselves masters of the world! If we tried to respect all species (even plant species) by observing an appropriate conduct, there would be no absurd problems, apparently in some isolated cases. The same thing goes for large predators: there are rules and behaviors to consider in how to properly protect farm animals, as well as ourselves when we are in presence of predators. Man is not the master of the world. We have stolen the territories of many species, many already extinct at the same time. We are in a catastrophic situation where the threat of extinction affects us personally; biologist and scientists have calculated that in 15 – 20 years 70% of all species will be extinct. Is this what we want? Isn’t it better that humanity finally pay the right respect to a planet that gives us nourishment, without asking for anything in return?
È stato un fine settimana decisivo per quanto concerne la biodiversità nella nostra piccola Svizzera. Questo non significa che i problemi per alcune specie di animali siano conclusi. Ci saranno sempre cacciatori avvidi che pur di praticare il loro “sport” sanguinario, ammazzeranno ungulati gravidi o piccoli sotto misura scambiandoli per qualche altra specie; che uccideranno il cane del compagno cacciatore confondendolo con un cinghiale o peggio ancora spareranno ad un altro cacciatore. Un fatale errore, che purtroppo accade fin troppo spesso anche alle nostre latitudini. Ci saranno sempre i bracconieri di ogni tipo, anche quelli che di professione fano i guardiacaccia, cosa accaduta e che ha generato uno scandalo nella Svizzera occidentale qualche settimana or sono. Ci saranno sempre i sanguinari alla caccia di trofei: le corna da appendere nella cascina o salotto domestico, sono ambite da personalità che amano il macabro ornamento. Quelli che dall’estero sono pronti a sborsare fior di euro, che vanno in tasca ai comuni privi di scrupoli. Ci saranno i soliti bastardi che metteranno trappole o spareranno a vanvera, magari ferendo non mortalmente la loro vittima ma lasciandola a vagare per giorni in preda ad abominevoli dolori prima di morire.
Ma di questo, non se ne parla. Si stende sopra il solito velo dell’omertà.
Sono verità che gli sportivi cacciatori, imbracciando un bel fucile con tanto di mirino telescopico che permette di individuare la preda a chilometri di distanza, non ammetteranno. Come non confesseranno di foraggiare le loro future prede mettendo in zone prescelte cibo e sale, per assicurarsi che gli animali vi prendano l’abitudine. Sarà poi un gioco, all’apertura della caccia, ritornarvi non più con il foraggio ma con fucile e pallottole. Anche se con un piccolo “scarto” visto che i cantoni più crudeli in fatto di tolleranza verso gli animali hanno accettato a grande maggioranza, e la lista di questi, era chiara ancora prima che si facesse lo spoglio.
Ma, almeno per questa volta, il buon senso ha avuto la meglio. Il Consiglio Federale starà già pianificando una rivincita: saranno incavolati per questo smacco oserei dire “bestiale”. Sono stata sorpresa e delusa dalle argomentazioni di tante persone che, forse per ingenuità o per ignoranza, ancora credono nella “pericolosità” di certi animali verso gli umani. Posso capire che il castoro con le sue dighe allaghi dei campi coltivati ed infastidisca gli agricoltori, o che un cigno per proteggere la propria prole assalisca la turista munita di macchina fotografica creando un attimo di panico.
Il problema siamo noi umani, con la nostra arroganza nel volerci credere padroni del mondo! Se cercassimo di rispettare tutte le specie (anche quelle vegetali) osservando una condotta appropriata, non ci sarebbero problemi assurdi, a pare qualche caso isolato. Stessa cosa vale per i grandi predatori: ci sono regole e comportamenti da osservare per come proteggere in modo corretto gli animali da allevamento come pure noi stessi quando ci trovassimo al loro cospetto. L’Uomo non è il padrone del mondo. Abbiamo rubato i territori a moltissime specie, in parte nel contempo estinte. Ci troviamo in una situazione catastrofica dove la minaccia d’estinzione ci tocca personalmente, scienziati biologi hanno calcolato che tra 15 – 20 anni il 70% di tutte le specie sarà estinto.
È questo che vogliamo?
Non è forse meglio metterci una volta per tutte a portare il giusto rispetto verso un pianeta che ci dà nutrimento, senza chiedere nulla in cambio?
In queste settimane, gli animi si sono accesi parecchio, e a far discutere è la modifica della Legge sulla Caccia! Quale ecologista amante degli animali, non sono l’unica ad essere stata più volte attaccata verbalmente come pure su scritti apparsi sulla stampa del cantone Ticino. Sono piovute parole spregevoli e ai limiti della denuncia… Ma si considera da quale fonte provengono e si sorride.
Sono molteplici le ragioni per RESPINGERE votando un secco NO, ma i cacciatori, gli agricoltori e altre cattegorie “non meglio definite” stanno gettando sabbia negli occhi dei cittadini.
Bugie e pretesti inverosimili che solo confondono le idee di chi ancora non ha capito che ne va di mezzo l’intero ecosistema. Quest’articolo, in sostanza, porta alla luce la vera natura di alcuni cacciatori (ma quanti, in verità?)
Il bracconaggio dilaga… stiamo parlando di linci, animali protetti, ma anche di altri.
In recent weeks, tempers started to flare, and the topic is the modification of the Hunting Law!
As an ecologist who loves animals, I’m not the only one who has been several times verbally attacked, and into writings that have appeared in the press of the Canton of Ticino. Quite few bad words have being poured, which were bordering on denunciation… But you always must consider from which source they come and than, you smile.
There are many reasons to REJECT by voting a sharp NO, but hunters, farmers and other “not better defined” categories are throwing sand in the eyes of citizens.
Lies, unlikely pretexts that only confuse the ideas of those who have not yet understood that the whole ecosystem is involved.
This article (unfortunetely in German language) essentially brings to light the true nature of some hunters (disgusting, but how many are they?)
Poaching is rampant… we are talking about lynxes, protected animals, but also of others of the protected species.
Il littering ti disturba e vuoi fare qualcosa per combatterlo? Venerdì 11 e sabato 12 settembre 2020, hai la possibilità di dare il tuo contributo: organizza assieme al tuo comune, alla tua ditta, alla tua scuola, ai giovani esploratori o alla tua associazione un’operazione di pulizia a livello locale, lanciando così un segnale durevole contro il littering e in favore di una Svizzera pulita. Quante più saranno le operazioni, tanto più grande sarà l’impatto: assieme alla popolazione puoi dare un contributo attivo alla qualità di vita e al senso di sicurezza nel tuo comune. Uniti e con rispetto reciproco possiamo fare la differenza.
Registrati e vinci: registrando la tua operazione di pulizia qui, hai la possibilità di vincere – con la tua associazione, la tua scuola o il tuo comune – un’escursione del valore di 500 franchi, una coppa itinerante Coop e un buono Coop del valore di 1000 franchi. Inoltre, sosteniamo le operazioni registrate per quanto riguarda il lavoro con i media e provvediamo a informare la stampa, la radio e la televisione. Le notizie diffuse dai media aiutano a mobilitare ulteriori partecipanti e rappresentano un riconoscimento per tutte le parti coinvolte.
***Giornata Clean-up e coronavirus***Alla luce delle misure di distensione decise dal Consiglio federale a fine maggio, si presume che il Clean-Up-Day possa svolgersi come previsto l’11 e il 12 settembre 2020. Per garantire che il Clean-Up-Day sia un successo completo quest’anno, abbiamo elaborato delle raccomandazioni per l’organizzazione di una campagna sicura. Le raccomandazioni sono disponibili a questo link. Inoltre, le raccomandazioni vengono regolarmente adattate alle condizioni attuali.
Inoltre, quest’anno, tutte le persone che al momento si sentono più a loro agio in piccoli gruppi possono iscriversi alla categoria speciale «Piccoli gruppi». Le famiglie e i gruppi con un massimo di 5 persone possono registrarsi nella categoria speciale «Piccoli gruppi» e vincere un buono FFS del valore di 150.- franchi. Ulteriori informazioni sono disponibili qui.
Uniti possiamo fare la differenza: ecco la panoramica delle operazioni Clean-up 2020 in programma.
Il 27 settembre è una data importantissima per il futuro della biodiversità svizzera. Abbiamo bisogno del voto di tutti voi, di tutti quelli che hanno a cuore la natura e gli animali dei nostri boschi!
NO a una legge confusa e inaccettabile che mette a rischio di abbattimento preventivo molte specie ora protette tra cui la lince, il castoro, il cigno e l’airone!
Next September 27th is a very important date for the future of Swiss biodiversity. We need the vote of all of you, of all those who care about nature and the animals of our woods!
NO to a confused and unacceptable law that puts many now protected species at risk of preventive culling, including the lynx, the beaver, the swan and the heron!
The global extinction of many species of flora and fauna, or a reduction / loss of the same in a specific natural environment, can be a temporary or permanent phenomenon depending on the situation. In the case of deforestation, the disappearance of the habitat of many species, without the possibility of restoration, generates an irreversible loss of biodiversity. Small changes within a balanced ecosystem can have a dramatic influence on the food chain that would lead to a reduction in biodiversity. This, in turn, leads to reduced ecosystem services and ultimately poses an immediate danger to food security, even to humanity itself. Currently, the global loss of biodiversity is estimated to be between 100 and 1000 times greater than it naturally occurs, and worse, a further increase due to anthropogenic pressure is expected. About 70% of the loss is caused by agriculture alone. 1/3 of the cultivable area of our planet is used for crops and for grazing livestock, therefore largely destined for the breeding of “slaughter meat”. The relative deforestation to increase forage production, monocultures and urbanization are man-made, and not always for vital reasons. Added to this is the greenhouse effect mainly caused by agriculture which in addition to destroying biodiversity by converting natural habitats into “intensive cultivation systems”, uses highly polluting agents such as pesticides or fertilizers that contaminate the air and soil. And so far, I think most readers are aware that the danger is imminent, despite the / negativists, / who still claim that all is well, continuing to follow a disrespectful lifestyle towards the problem that is collective. We are in a democratic country, where freedom of thought (and writing) is given to each of us. My obstinacy in trying to get a specific message across obviously creates resentment and grudges. We are not all tuned to the same wave, and there are many “vibrations”, however I can only invoke common sense and the fundamental awareness that each of us should do. Each of us can change our “ecological footprint” by reducing or eliminating, for example, the consumption of animal products, or by preferring the use of public or non-polluting transport. For many it is easy, for others more difficult but not impossible. In this context, we must also in Switzerland safeguard the different ecosystems and biodiversity, allowing all the species that populate our plains, mountains and plateaus, to coexist as Nature itself foresees, giving each other their own space. Given the above, we cannot accept an amendment to the Hunting Law which will provide the Federal Government with “carte blanche” or the ability to modify the list of protected animals at will (for example, lynx and beaver, given the favorable votes of the commissions) and without more faculty to intervene by means of popular votes. Unfortunately, the trade associations are making a big anti-wolf propaganda, bringing up every possible absurdity and trying to convince the people to carry out a wicked act by approving the amendment of the law. It should be emphasized that the current content of the law already provides for the elimination of problematic wolf specimens. Considering that the attempt to restore the atavistic fears towards the Bad Wolf did not work, some people have begun to take it out on the protection dogs of the herds but failing to provide true information and trying to pass a single message: let’s kill all the great predators that are dangerous.
I am of the opinion that it is important to provide correct information, not to provide misleading information with an attempt to confuse the reader. Shouldn’t moral righteousness be above one’s interests?
Like many other citizens, I defend our ecosystem, Nature with flora and fauna, as we wish to bequeath to the next generations a livable world, where everything has its living space… already very limited due to the presence of Man.
…oOo…
Lottando per loro: le creature senza voce
L’estinzione a livello globale di molte specie di flora e fauna, oppure una riduzione/perdita delle stesse in un preciso ambiente naturale, può essere un fenomeno temporaneo o permanente a differenza della situazione. Nel caso di deforestazione, la scomparsa dell’habitat di molte specie, senza una possibilità di ripristino, genera una perdita irreversibile della biodiversità. Piccoli cambiamenti all’interno di un ecosistema equilibrato, possono avere un’influenza drammatica sulla catena alimentare che porterebbe ad una riduzione della biodiversità. Questo, a sua volta, conduce a servizi ecosistemici ridotti e alla fine rappresenta un pericolo immediato per la sicurezza alimentare, anche per l’Umanità stessa. Attualmente, la perdita globale della biodiversità è stimata tra le 100 e 1000 volte superiore di quanto non occorra in modo naturale, e peggio, è previsto un ulteriore aumento causato dalla pressione antropica. Circa il 70% della perdita è causato dalla sola agricoltura. 1/3 della superficie coltivabile del nostro pianeta è utilizzato per le colture e per il pascolo di bestiame, quindi in gran parte destinato all’allevamento di “carne da macello”. La relativa deforestazione per accrescere la produzione di foraggio, le monoculture e l’urbanizzazione sono originate dall’uomo, e non sempre per ragioni vitali. Si aggiunge l’effetto serra principalmente causato dall’agricoltura la quale oltre a distruggere la biodiversità convertendo gli habitat naturali in “sistemi di coltivazione intensiva”, utilizza agenti fortemente inquinanti quali pesticidi o fertilizzanti che contaminano l’aria ed il suolo. E fin qui, penso che la maggior parte dei lettori sia consapevole che il pericolo è imminente, malgrado i /negativisti,/ che ancora affermano che tutto va bene, continuando a seguire uno stile di vita irriguardoso nei confronti della problematica che è collettiva. Siamo in un paese democratico, dove la libertà di pensiero (e di scrittura) è data ad ognuno di noi. La mia ostinazione nel cercare di far passare un messaggio specifico, evidentemente, crea astio e rancori. Non tutti siamo sintonizzati sulla stessa onda, e di “vibrazioni” ve ne sono tante, comunque posso unicamente invocare il buonsenso e la fondamentale presa di coscienza che ognuno di noi dovrebbe fare. Ognuno di noi può cambiare la propria “impronta ecologica” riducendo o azzerando ad esempio il consumo di prodotti animali, o prediligendo l’utilizzo di trasporti pubblici o non inquinanti. Per molti è facile, per altri più difficile ma non impossibile. In questo contesto, dobbiamo anche in Svizzera salvaguardare i diversi ecosistemi e la biodiversità, permettendo a tutte le specie che popolano le nostre pianure, montagne e altipiani, di coesistere come la stessa Natura prevede, fornendo gli uni agli altri il proprio spazio. Visto quanto sopra, non possiamo accettare una modifica della Legge sulla Caccia che fornirà al Governo federale “carta bianca” ovvero la possibilità di modificare la lista degli animali protetti a piacimento (ad esempio lince e castoro, visto i voti favorevoli delle commissioni) e senza più facoltà di intervento per mezzo di votazioni popolari. Purtroppo le associazioni di categoria stanno facendo una grossa propaganda anti-lupo, tirando in ballo ogni assurdità possibile e cercando di convincere il popolo a compiere un atto scellerato approvando la modifica della legge. Va sottolineato che l’attuale contenuto della Legge già prevede l’eliminazione di esemplari di lupo problematici. Considerando che il tentativo di ripristinare le ataviche paure nei confronti del Lupo Cattivo non sono funzionate, alcune persone hanno iniziato a prendersela con i cani da protezione delle greggi omettendo però di fornire informazioni vere e cercando di far passare un messaggio univoco: ammazziamo tutti i grandi predatori che sono pericolosi.
Sono dell’avviso che è importante un’informazione corretta, non fornire notizie fuorvianti con il tentativo di confondere chi legge. La rettitudine morale non dovrebbe essere al di sopra dei propri interessi?
Come molti altri cittadini, difendo il nostro ecosistema, la Natura con flora e fauna, poiché desideriamo lasciare in eredità alle prossime generazioni un mondo vivibile, dove ogni cosa ha il suo spazio vitale… già molto ridotto a causa della presenza dell’Uomo.
The Casa Camuzzi in Montagnola – Collina d’Oro – Ticino, was built in the middle of the 19th century by the Ticino architect Agostino Camuzzi and was completed in 1853. The Nobel Prize winner Hermann Hesse from 1919 to 1931, as well lived there. The Glass Beads Game is one of Hesse’s notable works.
I walk with bowed head, looking at the tip of my gym shoes smeared with mud, as I fear that my steps might awaken the souls of the past who have stayed in this magical place. But I just leave confused traces where the grass does not cover the passage, which overlaps with those of a dog or perhaps a plump cat.
The scents of grass and wet earth are tinged, but most of all the acrid smell of smoke emerges. The clock overlooking the stairs to the park marks 2:00 but it is almost night. Who knows for how many years has stopped working? With the imagination I can imagine the noble women who were facing from the balcony, to spy who wandered down below in the park philosophizing. I smile at this bizarre idea while I try to remain vigilant, ready to flee at any sudden noise or shadow.
The yellowish façade’ plaster is crumbling, eroded by centuries while ivy is a reddish patch that looks like stale blood, violently clinging to the iron bars of the windows with half-closed shutters. Who knows what else is hidden from view of the curious sparrows that have woven bushy stems under those baggy parapets! Fragile nests, unusual homes of winged and ephemeral dreams. Those of once, those that will be, the same as ever, those of everyone.
And here everything is decadent and deprived of its original beauty: those Baroque frills are now just a tangle torn in several places. How could it be so neglected in the last century? What will become of this park? What will succeed in pursuing the thirst for wealth of those who wanted, even here, to speculate on a property even on the list of cultural heritage? The thought flows around and without effort sees the previous facts in the region… so many… too many!
The evening sun is hidden behind thick clouds dark and menacing, ready to be torn to unleash their liquid fury above the ground already soaked and slippery. The swallows fly low, almost to verge on the top of the old trees that will be soon cut.
I realize I’m shaking, sadness, anger… maybe. Or fear. Fear of what or whom? The demolition company doesn’t works on Sundays and certainly no one else would dare to infringe peremptory orders that dominate the large sign: a warning to the wicked, or nostalgic. I hold in my hands the camera; I realize that the tremor became more intense.
I managed to get through the hole in the wall, where the twisted iron fence has already started to rust. It was an act dictated by the impulse, the desire to see it, once again, the mansion, despite the sign on the gate that prohibits the entrance to the non-professionals.
The big oleander wood and unpruned plane trees hinder the passage: I wonder how long a gardener has not set foot in this park, but Camuzzi house was a meeting place for enlightened minds, intellectuals forced into exile, artists in search of inner peace and, perhaps, were also frequented by madmen. My grandfather used to tell me a story, when I was having fun sitting on his knees pulling his mustache to see how long they were. It was a strange story, for a child of six years old. He said, my grandfather, since 1919 had lived in that property a man who wrote stories full of wonderful humanitarian ideals and utopian visions.
He had known him, my grandfather, and a few times he met him walking below, toward Agra, in the woods which at that time were still immense. Since then it has been over century! Later, grandfather said, that gentleman was confined to his property isolating himself from the world.
They did not speak the same language, but understood each other because both were very wise. My grandfather knew the names of all the plants, all the birds that hovered in the air and all the fish that swam in the lake! My grandfather knew how to read the clouds and perceive in the wind if rain would come and he knew what was good for the land which he cultivated with great love. Of course, my grandfather was a very wise man… he loved animals and plants and respected them.
Many years later, when the memories just brought me back the words of my grandfather, I thought back to the writings of this man so special that he lived in this villa. I keep a particular booklet, gift of my grandfather for my twelfth birthday. A story that is somehow imbued with memories and adventures of the writer himself… and maybe these are the same that I now want to touch with curious and greedy eyes.
I turn around and the look runs along the wall, down below, to the side of the road. I want to make sure that no one has stealthily followed me: what I’m doing is cruel and at the same time prohibited. I’ll steal archetypes images, the universal ones, the same written in the Siddhartha, whom represent the dark side of the collective subconscious, as they were defined by a well-known psychoanalyst who upset Freud’s theories. These will be images to witness the abandonment and destruction of this shrine, wanted by the sacrilegious selfishness and greed, and then I’ll feed it to those who want to shout immorality!
I think of the gentry, whom at this very moment are sitting on the veranda sipping an aperitif before Sunday’s dinner, or those who are in the town’s bar gossiping and judging the most, just for the pleasure of persecuting, for no weighted reason. This is the human nature. Over this hill, over the wall of the house and beyond the recklessness of the big palaces built in bulk, the vision of the underlying arm of Ceresio’s Lake is a panacea of blue. One might wonder why they allowed it to erect on this ground, embraced between two streets. But times have changed and with them the vision of the people. Even the thick wood that came down to the lake no longer exists, already for some fifty years. Matter of political priorities, economic, silence and conspiracy of silence … a lot of it.
In my jacket pocket I perceive and gently touch the little book by its bluish cover, damaged on the corners and worn for too much wander around in its company. I stop, look up, and then over my shoulder. It is time, once again will resound my voice fragile by emotion. I’m looking for the page where the dry daisy acts as a bookmark:
“See, Govinda, this is one of my thoughts, the ones that I’ve found: wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom of a learned man, who tries to communicate to others, always has a sound of madness … “ Who knows, maybe he, the spirit of the writer, is there hidden somewhere… and he’s watching the self-extinguishing world. Then a meow surprises me. I smile and the sadness of the soul vanishes as if by magic. A rubbing of soft sweetness around my legs, his back arched, his eyes full of infinite’s reflections.
– Hey kitty, but what you’ve done? Did you follow me… we could both end up in a big mess, you know? The booklet disappears in the pocket, with the hand I touch it to make sure that it stays with me: a memory? For now… Then I bowed and I take my cat in the arms. It’s time to go home, maybe it really is wisdom to let the memories remain as such… Humbly I retrace the path; turn once again and looked up at the clock. Yes, it’s broken. Shows always 2:00… I smile… but even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day.(1)
(1)quote from: The Glass Bead Game, Hermann Hesse in 1943
Cammino a testa china guardandomi la punta delle scarpe di ginnastica imbrattate di fango, quasi avessi timore che i miei passi possano risvegliare le anime del passato che hanno soggiornato in questo magico luogo. Ma lascio solo tracce confuse, dove l’erba non ricopre il passaggio, che si sovrappongono a quelle di un cane o forse di un paffuto gatto.
I profumi dell’erba umida e della terra sono soffusi, ma più di tutti affiora l’odore acre del fumo. L’orologio che sovrasta la scala d’accesso al parco, segna le 14:00 ma è quasi notte. Chissà da quanti anni ha smesso di funzionare. Con la fantasia riesco ad immaginare le nobili donne che si erano affacciate da quel balconcino, per spiare chi giù sotto girovagava nel parco filosofeggiando. Sorrido a questa bizzarra idea mentre cerco di restare vigile, pronta a scappare ad ogni rumore o ombra improvvisi.
L’intonaco giallognolo della facciata si sta sbriciolando, corroso dai secoli mentre l’edera rossiccia è una chiazza che assomiglia a sangue raffermo, violentemente avvinghiata alle inferriate delle finestre con le persiane chiuse. Chissà cos’altro è nascosto alla visione dei passeri curiosi che hanno intessuto steli cespugliosi sotto quei larghi parapetti! Nidi fragili, inconsuete dimore di sogni alati ed effimeri. Quelli di un tempo, quelli che saranno, quelli di sempre, quelli di tutti.
E qui ogni cosa è decadente, privata della sua originale bellezza: quei fronzoli in stile barocco sono ora solo un groviglio squarciato in più punti. Come ha potuto essere trascurato così in quest’ultimo secolo? Cosa ne diverrà di questo parco? Cosa riuscirà a perseguire la sete di ricchezza di chi ha voluto, anche qui, speculare su una proprietà che addirittura figura nella lista dei beni culturali? Il pensiero scorre intorno e non fatica a visualizzare i precedenti della regione … tanti … troppi!
Il sole della sera è nascosto dietro grosse nuvole oscure e minacciose, pronte a squarciarsi per liberare la loro furia liquida sopra la terra già inzuppata e scivolosa. Le rondini volano basse, quasi a rasentare la cima delle piante secolari che presto verranno tagliate.
Mi accorgo di tremare, la tristezza, lo sdegno … forse. O la paura. Timore di cosa o di chi?
L’impresa di demolizione non lavora di domenica e certamente nessun altro oserebbe contravvenire agli ordini perentori che troneggiano sul grosso cartello: un monito agli scellerati, o ai nostalgici. Stringo tra le mani la macchina fotografica, mi accorgo che il tremito si è fatto più intenso.
Sono riuscita ad entrare attraverso lo squarcio nel muro, dove la ramina contorta ha già iniziato ad arrugginire. È stato un atto dettato dall’impulso, dal desiderio di vederla, ancora una volta, la villa, malgrado il cartello posto sul cancello che vieta l’entra ai non addetti ai lavori.
Il grosso bosco di oleandri ed i platani non potati, ostacolano il passaggio: chissà da quanto tempo un giardiniere non ha più messo piede in questo parco, eppure casa Camuzzi era stata luogo d’incontro di menti illuminate, d’intellettuali costretti all’esilio, d’artisti alla ricerca della pace interiore e, forse, l’hanno frequentata anche dei pazzi.
Mio nonno soleva raccontarmi una storia, quando seduta sulle sue ginocchia mi divertivo a tirargli i baffi per vedere quant’erano lunghi. Era un racconto strano, per una bimba di sei anni. Diceva, il nonno, che dal 1919 in quella proprietà aveva vissuto un uomo che scriveva storie ricche di ideali umanitari e meravigliose visioni utopiche.
Lo aveva conosciuto, mio nonno, e un paio di volte lo aveva incontrato passeggiando più sotto, verso Agra, nel bosco che a quei tempi era ancora immenso. Da allora è trascorso più di un secolo! In seguito, diceva il nonno, quel signore si era rinchiuso nella sua proprietà isolandosi dal mondo.
Non parlavano la stessa lingua, ma si capivano poiché entrambi erano molto saggi. Mio nonno conosceva il nome di tutte le piante, di tutti gli uccelli che si libravano nell’aria e di tutti i pesci che nuotavano nel lago! Mio nonno sapeva leggere nelle nuvole e percepire nel vento se sarebbe arrivata la pioggia e sapeva ciò che era buono per la terra che coltivava con grande amore. Certo, mio nonno era molto saggio … amava gli animali e le piante e li rispettava.
Molti anni più tardi, quando solo i ricordi mi riportavano le parole del nonno, ho ripensato agli scritti di quell’uomo così speciale che ha abitato in questa villa. Serbo un libricino particolare, regalo del nonno per il mio dodicesimo compleanno. Una storia che in qualche modo è intrisa di ricordi e di vicissitudini dello stesso scrittore … e forse sono le stesse che ora voglio toccare con occhi curiosi e avidi.
Mi volto e lo sguardo corre lungo il muro di cinta, giù in fondo, verso il lato della strada. Desidero assicurarmi che nessuno mi abbia furtivamente seguita: ciò che sto per fare è crudele ed al contempo proibito. Ruberò immagini di archetipi, quelli universali, gli stessi ripresi nel Siddhartha, quelli che rappresentano il lato oscuro del subconscio collettivo, come vennero definiti da un noto psicanalista che sconvolse le tesi freudiane. Saranno immagini a testimonianza dell’abbandono e rovina di questo santuario, voluto dal sacrilego egoismo e dalla cupidigia, poi lo darò in pasto a chi vorrà gridare all’immoralità!
Penso alla gente perbene, che in quello stesso attimo se ne sta seduta nella veranda a sorseggiare un aperitivo prima della cena domenicale o a quelle persone che al bar del paese stanno spettegolando giudicando i più, solo per il diletto di infierire, senza nessuna ragione ponderata. Questa è l’indole umana. Sopra questa collina, oltre il muro di cinta della villa e al di là della sventatezza dei grossi palazzi edificati alla rinfusa, la visione del sottostante braccio del Ceresio è una panacea di blu. È lecito chiedersi perché abbiano permesso che si edificasse proprio su questo terreno, abbracciato tra due stradine. Ma i tempi sono cambiati e con essi la visione della gente. Anche il folto bosco che arrivava giù fino al lago non esiste più già da una cinquantina d’anni. Questione di priorità politiche, economiche, di silenzi e di omertà … tanta.
Nella tasca della giacca percepisco e tocco con delicatezza quel libricino dalla copertina azzurrina, rovinata sugli angoli e consunta per il troppo girovagare in sua compagnia. Mi fermo, guardo verso l’alto e poi oltre le mie spalle. È giunto il momento, ancora una volta potrà risuonare la mia voce fragile dall’emozione. Cerco la pagina, dove la margherita secca funge da segnalibro:
“Vedi, Govinda, questo è uno dei miei pensieri, di quelli che ho trovato io: la saggezza non è comunicabile. La saggezza che un dotto tenta di comunicare ad altri, ha sempre un suono di pazzia …”
Chissà, forse lui, lo spirito dello scrittore, è là nascosto da qualche parte … e sta osservando il mondo che si auto annienta. Poi un miagolio mi sorprende. Sorrido e la tristezza dell’animo svanisce come per incanto. Uno strusciare di morbida dolcezza attorno alle gambe, la schiena arcuata, gli occhi pieni di riflessi d’infinito.
– Hei micio, ma che hai fatto? Mi hai seguito … potevamo finire entrambi in un grosso pasticcio, sai?
Il libricino sparisce nella tasca, con la mano lo tocco per essere sicura che resti con me: un ricordo? Per ora si … Poi mi chino e prendo il mio gattone tra le braccia. È ora di ritornare a casa, forse è davvero saggezza lasciare che i ricordi restino tali … Umilmente ripercorro il vialetto, giro ancora una volta lo sguardo verso l’orologio.
Sì, è rotto. Segna sempre le 14:00 … sorrido … eppure anche un orologio fermo segna l’ora giusta due volte al giorno.(1)
(1) citazione da: Il gioco delle perle di vetro, Hermann Hesse 1943
This is the translation of a derogatory article against the “protectors of Nature”.
It is really true that apples never fall far from the tree: if I remember correctly, Mr. Berta, who wrote the article of 5.8.2020 “Wolf, predations and true solutions”, or “I am the champion in wanting to inflict a new blow to ecosystems ”, he was also coordinator of the committee against the creation of the Locarnese National Park. His view is obviously anti-nature. He accuses those who oppose the amendment of the Hunting Law (LCP) to be voted on on 27.9.2020 as “lack of intellectual honesty that is subordinated to an ideological battle of principle”. Dear Mr. Berta, one really wonders the value of some of your statements, thrown there to glorify the idea that allowing the killing of protected species is an advantage for humanity, while the protectors of Fauna & Flora show, how do you define a “purely fundamentalist attitude that presents no rational basis for argument” except “fanaticism”? The “fanatics” (myself for instance) safeguard Nature and its creatures, providing scientific arguments with transparency, proven by in-depth studies, made by biologists and ecologists. They do not exploit statistics at will, and they do not raise their voices in the most varied areas to show themselves on a political as well as personal level. On our side, that of the “fanatics”, we include people who come from all social and political backgrounds, obviously people with a strong rational and ethical sense who look not to their own interests but to those of future generations. I don’t understand why you flaunts all this hatred and fury towards those who defend protected animals. More than a hundred years have passed since 1800, when the last wolf was killed in Ticino. Now this creature linked to the grandmother’s fairy tales that made us tremble as children, is back but we have been able to greatly advance our knowledge and technologies. Let’s use them: it is a challenge for a model of sustainable development, for a possible balance and coexistence despite the exaggerated anthropogenic drive. We can, with the right efforts and countermeasures aimed at protecting the flocks, be able to demonstrate an open and intelligent vision by taking advantage of the presence of these “great predators” to the benefit of the ecosystem.
By following the various cantonal and federal recommendations on how to protect flocks, we use the experiences of those who have succeeded, take advantage of the available funds, or in particular avoid leaving animals in the wild (without shepards). This poor planet is already going badly without a modification of the Hunting Law allowing in the future to kill protected animals even before they can generate damage, only because their presence annoys those who only take from Nature, without ever returning even a thank you. Mr. Berta cites “real solutions”, which, alas, would be to pull the trigger! Therefore, I reiterate a NO to the revision of the hunting law to be voted on on 27 September 2020.
In a place difficult to reach by land, an ascetic lived and probably still lives. He was no longer young, but the years had not yet marked his flesh with aches and pains that are typical of aging. Time seemed to stand still for him!
Many came from afar to ask for his advice or even to hear him tell his Thousand Stories. Sarabi Al-Surfa, this was the name of the Sage, he had searched the streets of the world for the secret of happiness. Evidently, somewhere he had also found it, since no one had ever seen him sad or angry, indeed the elderly ascetic was always smiling and for each visitor he had a special story in store that seemed tailor-made.
Some spoke of magic, others claimed that Sarabi Al-Surfa could read the minds; still others were saying that the good man was just a lunatic. Over the months, every time I listened to the stories of the people I accompanied during the flights to India, I was more and more curious and after returning home I spent hours and hours talking to my cats telling them how famous the old Sage who told the Thousand Stories had become.
Having travelled the world of Earth – Water and Air, I had heard of several oddities, but never as particular as the story of Sarabi Al-Surfa. This singular man had begun to interest me in a disturbing way: I wanted to meet him personally; I wanted to listen to some of his stories designed specifically for me. I was sure he could have given me a lot of important information to share with all our cats, since I was sure of one thing: they were the keepers of a huge secret!
A dozen domestic cats lived in our house and another dozen wild cats visited us regularly to receive food. The more I devoted myself to them, the more the belief that our cats were not there with us only by chance, they had chosen us as owners for a mysterious reason that I wanted to discover at any cost.
Several years have already passed since I finally decided to go and look for Sarabi Al-Surfa in his hermitage. I was still young, just married and I was flying around the world following the routes outlined by my job. I had asked for a couple of weeks of vacation, sure that it would be enough to set off on the arduous path that leads from Delhi to the immense Himalaya Mountains.
When I arrived at the airport in New Delhi, I looked for my Indian friend Govinda. I had immediately spotted her in the crowd, she wore a fiery red sari with edges embroidered with golden thread. She was shaking her hands in the air trying to attract my attention; pinned to the dress, clearly visible, was the identification badge of the ground staff. Delhi airport was quite large, so it was easy to get lost when the gaze was drawn to the many varieties of shouting people.
I met Govinda in 1988 during one of my first flights to India, immediately becoming friends and accomplices of many adventures. She worked for Air India, there in Delhi, as a ground-hostess. When I had explained to her my crazy idea of reaching Srinagar in Jammu and Kashmir, Govinda had darkened her face.
“But are you out of your mind? Don’t you know it is dangerous to venture up there? The border with Pakistan is close and that is a disputed territory between the two nations. They are always at war and every now and then, there are terrorist attacks”.
Govinda was a brave woman; I could almost say that she was a daredevil, so the reaction of hers had put me a little alarmed. I had explained to her that I would not stop in Srinagar but that I absolutely wanted to reach Leh. Her face had relaxed a little, and then she laughed:
“Ah, what are you going to look for in Leh? The Yeti? On the other hand, have you met the son of the Jammu Shri Karan Singh Maharajah on some flights?”
Evidently, Govinda believed that I was joking or that it was one of my usual quirks. However, I was very convinced and damned serious! I knew there was also a small airport, Leh Kushok Bakula Rimpocee Airport. From Srinagar, when weather conditions allowed, there was a flight every 3-4 days and therefore in just over half an hour you reached your destination. When I asked Govinda to give me some more detailed information about Sarabi Al-Surfa, my friend became serious:
“And for what reason do you want to venture to know the old Sage of the sacred Mountain? It could cost you your life… many have never returned and several who have returned have become… crazy.”
“But many visited him and he gave them a story. I only want one that allows me to understand the language of my cats; I wish to be able to share with them much more than what I can now! In addition, I want to know why they chose us as masters!”
I had replied in a voice full of conviction and determination. Govinda had stared into my eyes for a long time, a gaze as dark as moonless nights, when the clouds also cover the soft glow of the stars of the firmament.
“Maybe… maybe Sarabi Al-Surfa won’t want to give you the pleasure of seeing him. He is a very old man; perhaps he has already been dead for some time. Are your friend’s cats so important? You talk about they were humans, not animals.”
How could Govinda even doubt the deep affection that bound me to my felines? I replied in a resolute voice:
“My cats are a sort of Key… I have to find out which magical door they can open to me… for this the Old Wise Man will have to tell me MY Story!”
Shaking her head and gesturing in the air with her hands, Govinda had accompanied me to the boarding counters in the Domestic Flights terminal.
“Look, I’m going with you. In short, I accompany you! You don’t know how to speak Hindi, and even if you try to disguise yourself, you see a kilometer away that you are a westerner and I feel responsible for you.”
My Indian friend had said with a smile. Speaking with a colleague of hers, who occasionally peered at me with a very amused air, Govinda had managed to reserve two seats on the plane to Srinagar which would leave the following day. The connection from Srinagar to Leh would however have been after 3 days, so in Srinagar we should have spent two nights. Govinda had specified:
“My friend, the one who issued us the ticket, will be able to do my work shift. I have already done her many favors in the past and I gladly reciprocate them; but when we are in Leh, to the old sage, you will go alone. Too many stories have become legends, you see, I’m afraid that knowing my story then too, many things could change.”
“So be it, Govinda. Thank you for accompanying me… do not fear for me, there is something that I have not yet revealed to you, but as we walk along, I will tell you.”
Hard to think that she would believe my words… perhaps revealing my secret to her, she would change her mind and I should have gone to Srinagar alone! However, there was time, a long time…
In the afternoon, Govinda had accompanied me to the antiques district, the Thief’s Market, where I hoped to find a specific Object… to bring as a gift to the old Sage. I remembered seeing several of them, displayed on the rickety vendor’s stalls, during a previous trip to Delhi. Years ago, I had bought three similar in size, but completely different in colour and execution. I had kept the less flashy one for my husband and myself, and after inserting it on granite support, it was on display above the half-tailed piano.
Several times that Object had attracted the appalled gaze of friends who had visited us, while cats had quickly learned how to use it and it seemed that they were enjoying themselves. This strange and dark detail had convinced me that it was a magical artefact!
I had given away the other two: one to my parents and the other one to an elderly woman from my hometown who lived isolated, in a patrician house without running water and electricity. The woman had already seen some similar objects, almost everywhere in the world that she too had turned when her health still allowed. My dad had been fascinated by the accurate and precise workmanship on sandalwood with inlays of mother of pearl, lapis lazuli and ebony.
“It’s wonderful, my daughter” the whispered words still came back to me while with his big hands he stroked the object as if it was something of inestimable value, “all people should have on, to help remember… and not to forget.”
I had never been able to discover the real name of the Object because in each country and culture it was called differently, and as well as used for different purposes. My husband and I had decided to call him FINDERORIÉN. I felt, deep inside, that my father was right! Sarabi Al-Surfa would need to own one, if no one had already thought of giving him such a present. It was as if a little voice inside my ear was advising me to bring him a FINDERORIÉN in exchange for my story.
“You are weird, you know? If I have not known you for so many years, I think I would not have listened to you. Moreover, are you sure that you will be able to find that thing… what did you say it is called? FINDERORIÉN? Never heard of it.”
Govinda was tugging at my arm, she was serious in the face and certainly also a little worried. She was always apprehensive when I shared with her my thoughts, she believed it was a sort of curse that is borne on us Westerners, that of having the mind always occupied by the tomorrow without ever being able to appreciate the instant, the here and now.
“Listen Govinda, my friend, you must not feel compelled to come with me to Leh. I appreciate your offer and generosity but at the end it is my Mission; you see, there are things in life that are predestined from conception and there is no use trying to ignore the existence of fate… or kismet… or predestination or all three things combined.”
Shaking her head slightly, my friend added:
“Maybe I don’t have so much faith in instinct, my dear; otherwise I fear that I would not be in Delhi for a long time! Maybe I should have left this city and gone to the Maldives as my brothers did. I simply would not want something bad to happen to you, the story of the hermit has put me on agitation. There has been a lot of talk about him, he is always talked about, and there are those who after knowing him are no longer the same person as before. The power of his stories is very great, they say, so great that he has the power to change the listener permanently! Are you sure, you want to change?”
That was a question, which had caught me off guard, I certainly did not expect Govinda to worry so much about me, nor did I imagine that she was aware of so many details about Sarabi Al-Surfa. However, more convinced than ever I had replied in a firm voice:
“Yes, the story that the Sage will tell me, as long as I accept it, will help me to communicate with my feline friends. No, please do not look at me with those eyes… I am serious, I do not have a fever and I am fine. I have already told you that my husband and I share the same passion for cats: 10 live with us and another ten visit us regularly to receive food. Just once Nebuchadnezzar and Amneris were touching our FINDERORIÉN with their paws, I had a strange vision: the object had become bigger transforming itself under my incredulous gaze. Later I had heard a powerful voice speak to the two cats…” I had a short pause to catch my breath, “but I did not understand the meaning of those words.” Govinda was amazed, a couple of times had swallowed with difficulty and then stammered: “Ah… so you had a vision? And did you hear the strange object… speak to your cats; evidently, the cats will have replied something you didn’t understand?”
I had been watching her in silence, and then I had looked around us to see if other people had followed our dialogue.
“Govinda, it is too long a strange story to tell you about it like this. I already showed you the photos of our cats the last time we were together in Jaipur. I am also convinced that the names of our cats are not random.”
Govinda smiled smugly:
“Yes, they are really special names, but even more I find the vision of FINDERORIÉN surprising. Maybe the mystery is contained in these strange objects!”
We had finally reached the end of a narrow, dusty and crowded lane. The heat had become unbearable, the sweat was sliding down my forehead while the orange linen kaftan was literally gluing on me. Suddenly, from a corner of the alley, a child rose from the ground and came to meet me: he held in his hands the most beautiful FINDERORIÉN I had ever seen!
“I kept it for you, ma’am!”
He said giving me a white smile of innocence and authenticity. The object shone between his tiny fingers, dirty with earth. In that moment, I understood: that this was the right contribution for the story that Sarabi Al-Sufa would tell me.
With trembling hands, I took over the object and then I looked for Govinda to show it to her, but when I wanted to pay the child, he was gone! I looked for him in the crowd, hoping to see the whiteness of his smile… I took a few steps around. Maybe he was intimidated and went to curl up in a corner. When Govinda finally joined me, she immediately noticed the object I was holding in my hands and, of course, she had read the dismay in my eyes.
“Holy God, where did you find it?”
I had no words to answer her, still I was trying to understand what was happening to me. With my eyes, I had looked again for the boy who seemed to have dematerialized; on the street, there was only the usual large multicolored crowd that shouted and gestured to passersby trying to attract their attention. However, there was not even the shadow of the boy. Yet somewhere he had certainly gone… I had felt a sort of panic, while I was holding the Object firmly in my sweaty and dusty hands. Govinda looked at me with inquisitive eyes:
“What are you doing? You are not going to stay here for the rest of the day. I have been calling you for a while. Look, they all turned to look at us!”
In the meantime, I was smiling a little forcefully while I realised that two women were staring at me by pointing finger in my direction. A kind of respect shone from their eyes, mixed with disbelief. I had just smiled back but now those women dressed in blue and cardinal red saris came towards me with their hands outstretched.
“Blimey! Govinda, what do these good women want? Why do they keep pointing at me? Moreover, why are everyone else looking at us with startled faces?”
The girl had needed a few more seconds to realize, and then she had approached me with an abrupt and very rapid movement:
“Listen, better get away from here, they say they saw the Little One who gave you an object… they say it’s an auspicious Sign… they say you’re a lucky woman and they want to know who you are… Here in India, these things happen and it is not good to stop, come, let’s go quickly before it’s too late!”
Without even realizing it, we both were running, measuring the whole path strewn with stalls and various knick-knacks that led to the main road. I felt my heart in my throat and the initial panic sensation had turned into anguish!
Who was that boy? What had the women seen that escaped my attention? The questions continued to haunt me when, more or less comfortably sitting on a seat of the economy class of Air India, I was struggling to put together the details of the story of the day before. Govinda, sitting next to me, slept soundly. She had spent the night awake looking out the window at first at the full moon and then at the rising sun. She had told me that she suffered from insomnia… I knew it was a lie, I had heard her whispering Mantras all night. I was wondering if what I was doing was right, involving a friend in an adventure perhaps full of dangers and risks. Then I thought about the times I had discussed philosophy with my father, when he had suggested that I follow my instinct.
“Inside each of us” he confided to me “there is an immortal soul. It is a kind of bridge with all previous lives, with every teaching that has been given to us over the course of countless lives. You must trust your instincts even if many times you are afraid of making mistakes. Always put love in your every thought, in your every action. If Love will guide your every breath, then your instinct will be fully awakened, and will as well allow you to see into the future and to do wonders. But don’t forget that every action must be virtuous and linked to love for every living being: nature, animals, and men.” I had always listened to Dad’s teachings; I felt that they would take me far, very far! When the pilot announced the landing 15 minutes later, Govinda had recently dozed off. It was going to be a long day!
Initially she had avoided asking any more questions or looking at me with those inquiring eyes. However, the girl had teased my memories:
“Here, look over there, those are the lakes… very similar to the ones you have in your small town, aren’t they?”
Indeed, that area in northern India was very similar to our small Switzerland. Thinking about the house, the cats, my husband, had increased the urgency and revived the real motivation for my presence in that remote place on the slopes of the Himalayas.
In my bag, I felt more and more the presence of the FINDERORIÉN, as if advancing north and to the eternal snow made the object vibrate in a pronounced way. Govinda had a nice surprise in store for me: instead of entering the city of Srinagar, the rickety little taxi with no suspension, took the road that skirted a lake. After about half an hour’s journey, from a height I saw the large lake below which mirrored the blue sky covered with huge white and plump clouds.
“Here we are. I thought you would spend two slightly different nights on a floating barge.” Govinda watched me with half-closed eyes as if she wanted to go through me to read the unspoken thoughts. “You will see how special it is, we could sail along the waterways and then in three days, we will return in time to take the flight to Leh. Therefore, you can say that you have experienced the emotions of Jammu and Kashmir!”
I was truly speechless, a little disconcerted that my friend initially so terrified of the idea of going to that disputed region between India and Pakistan, could even think of a pleasure trip rather than barricade herself inside a hotel for scary tourists.
From our floating house, the great Dal Lake shone in the rays of the sun now at its zenith. The nature appeared lush and green, the air was fresh and crisp and in the distance, the crown of mountains overlooked the city of Srinagar as if in an embrace. There are no adequate words to describe those places, where Mother Nature concentrated suggestive wonders; then humans continued the work by inserting many temples that rose in height as if they wanted to reach out to Heaven in imitating the height of the mountains of Ladakh: the Himalaya chain.
The skipper, if I can afford to call him so, was not very inclined to the conversation. Apparently, he did not understand English, even if it seemed very strange to me because in general those who worked in contact with tourists knew a few words of courtesy. He said his name was Sabibar and he wore the usual turban typical of the followers of the Sikh religion, present in that area of northern India.
Sabibar prepared our meals with great care and attention to detail, on the tray resting on the stern of the boat, there were always flowers, pink bougainvillea and a beautiful yellow flower with an unpronounceable name. Having got used to spicy food again, I had started to appreciate the typical fragrances of Jammu by explicitly asking Sabibar for my vegetarian preferences, and the different ones he had cooked with paneer, were sublime! The man was very intrigued by our conversations because, more than once, I had caught him earesdropping from behind the panel that separated us from his skipper position. The sensation had become very pronounced even during the second day on the boat, as we quietly slipped on the dark cobalt surface of the lake.
“Govinda, I have the impression that the skipper is a little too interested in our conversations. Did you choose him for this stay in Srinagar?”
The young woman had looked at me with her usual puzzled look.
“No. I turned to the Delhi travel agency, the one where we have also been on our trips to Jodhpur and Agra the past few years. However, why are you so full of doubts? Since we left, you have seen oddities everywhere… come on, try to relax a little. You have an imagination to envy! There is still a long way to go to get to Leh, we do not even know if your Sage will be there waiting for you when the plane arrives!” Then Govinda laughed heartily, as if for her this whole story had taken on an adventure yellow character. For me it was very different. The impression that something was getting out of hand was becoming more and more pronounced, but I did not know whether to try to get a few words from Sabibar’s mouth who apparently knew how to use well only his ears to listen to our discussion, and his hands to cook.
On the third day, during breakfast with fruits, yoghurt and nan, Sabibar finally decided to let us hear the tone of his voice:
“Madam, I humble apologize, I wish to present my availability with pleasure. I understand that you are going to Leh, I understand that the foreign lady is looking for Sarabi Al-Surfa. I met old Sage many years ago when I lost my family. I can take her to him.”
Govinda had let drop the buttered piece of nan which had slipped from her hand ending up on her sari, leaving an evident grease stain. Then she looked at me without saying a word, evidently leaving me the responsibility to answer. I had observed the face of the man who was now smiling affably; all my doubts about him had vanished and now I found myself alone in front of a person who offered his help, I thought for some reason related to the disappearance of his family. However, I had waited a couple of minutes before replying to Sabibar, my gaze had first moved over the surface of the water, then along the shore that was slowly approaching, marking the imminent departure towards the airport for Leh. Wouldn’t there have been only this man in trouble? Govinda did not want to follow me in search of Sarabi Al Surfa… should I perhaps have trusted a perfect stranger?
“Why are you now offering us your help?”
The question had surely struck him in his pride since Sabibar had become a little annoyed; it is possible that he did not want to tell me too much about himself, but he had cut short stating: “I owe a lot to old Sage, ma’am. This must be enough as an explanation… I do not want to receive compensation; my help is a gift since you too will bring a gift to Sarabi Al-Surfa. He awaits you, ma’am, to give you your story.”
I was more and more confused: yet on the boat with Govinda I had never mentioned the FINDERORIÉN. Furthermore, I had never separated from the object that had been carefully stored in the bag from which I did not detach even when I was sleeping. How could Sabibar know of its existence?
“I… should bring a gift to the old sage. Oh, yes? Moreover, as you know, I am curious to hear this part of story too!”
Evidently I had slightly altered, my voice was shrill, Govinda had politely put her hand in front of her mouth: she was laughing. Her eyes betrayed her hilarity as she replied in place of the Skipper:
“Ohh, but this is the land of mysteries, my friend! Do not forget that India is Magic and you do not know which are the powers that are amplified here, in harmony with the beauty of nature!”
Sabibar looked at me seriously, staring into my eyes and, without looking down, added:
“Lady, let your heart guide the Mind, as your father taught you.”
At that precise moment, everything stopped, I no longer felt the perception of the boat swinging on the water. I no longer felt the sparkling air that entered my body charging oxygen into the blood. I no longer saw the blue of the sky, with the circle of mountains that joined the cobalt of the water… every sense of my perception had eclipsed in the most complete lack of size. Dismayed, I observed Sabibar’s face, which gradually seemed to modify its molecular structure, taking on that of the face of the child I had seen in the streets of the Tief-market. A fraction of a second more, and I would have passed out if it hadn’t been Govinda’s readiness to call me back to reality:
“Come on, let’s prepare our things, we have to get off the ground in a while and you can decide if you want to take him with us.”
In the end, I had decided to take Sabibar with us. Listening to the language of my heart, something suggested to me that I would need his help very soon.
At Srinagar airport, thanks to Govinda, we also bought an Air India ticket for Sabibar. It was a flight of about half an hour, but which would have saved us more than 400 kilometers on roads not always feasible without engulfing. Moreover, I had collected several wild memories consumed in the Gilgit region of northern Pakistan! Those roads on the Roof of the World were not a Sunday walk, without forgetting that unfortunately I did not have a month vacation.
Sabibar had looked out the window throughout the flight; I had wondered several times if that was the first time the man had sat in an airplane! Nevertheless, he had appeared calm and confident; on the plane, there were chickens in iron wire cages and even a goat that kept wiggling. I had to hold back my usual hilarity in the face of such scenes: but this was another reality. A sort of parallel world where everything took on other meanings. To our left, the Zanskara mountain range stretched up to encircle these of Ladakh, enchanting our gaze with a sort of unreal apparition. Even though I am used seeing these helpless titans at the mercy of their destiny, from more than ten thousand meters above sea level, I was amazed every time by the beauty of our planet Earth. Here the forces of the wind and the sun appear extraordinary: as if, evolution had not yet completed in this corner of the earth.
Among the soft clouds like the foam on a shore, the Indus river and the valley where, further down, the members of the Brokpa tribe still live appeared. Light-skinned men with blue or green eyes; individuals whose roots descend from Alexander the Great’s Macedonian army, for centuries forgetting the glory of the past.
I knew that in those places below many Buddhist temples were inserted, like jewels set in green oases. I had seen representations of the temples of Likiri, Lamayuru, Ridzong, Archi, Thiksey and Himris. Vestiges that tell of flying monks with mysterious and extraordinary powers, of lakes and seas now dried up, of sea lions and myths of the Bonpo religion. They were the tantric and shamanic rites of Buddhists, which link the esoteric to the reality of our presence in this body. Time had literally flown, while I was busy on one side spying on Sabibar who was sitting in the opposite row from mine and on the other admiring the view. Govinda had embroidered a sort of belt, which, she had revealed to me, she wanted to give as a vestment to her sister who would be married in 4 months.
The offer of our former skipper to act as a tourist guide to the mountains did not give me particular concerns, except for the phrase concerning my father who still distressed me. I was now sure that the presence of this man was not accidental; eventually he would reveal the mystery to me, the reason why he had so taken my pilgrimage to the mysterious valleys of the Himalayas in search of the old Sage.
Landed at Leh Kushok Bakula Rimpocee, everything had taken on another priority. Sabibar was watching me with a cloudy look, while from under the front seat I extracted my bag containing the FINDERORIÉN. At Srinagar airport, I noticed the deference shown by the airport employees towards Sabibar. On his ruby-colored turban, a large diadem depicting the Khanda, symbol of the Sikh religion, appeared out of the blue: two scimitars and a central dagger. Who was this man? As an experienced helmsman across the lakes and coves around Srinagar, had he turned into something fearsome and dangerous? What was his real purpose in wanting to accompany us?
Sometimes, I perceived with a certain annoyance his scrutinizing gaze; after all, I still couldn’t trust him completely, and why would I have to? In life, I always had had to fight for my ideals, argue my every thought and I had never received support from anyone in a disinterested way. I then concentrated on a story, of which I had heard a lot, about the monastery of Matho, the only convent belonging to the dark Sect of the Sakyas, monks-shamans who practiced occult rites and of which it was said that they could even fly. Maybe they, these Sakyas, could have given me some information about Sarabi Al-Surfa? It was said that these monks also knew how to predict the future! But Sabibar apparently also read in my thoughts, or had some other supernatural gift that at the moment I was unable to catalog.
“No, Madam. This is not how you will find the old Sage. You must follow your heart, the path is not easy, but the teaching you will receive is the goal that everyone is looking for during a lifetime! The Sakyas cannot help you.”
The man had apparently touched a weak point of mine since I immediately felt judged. I hated, above all else, to be examined by strangers. Govinda had read a certain annoyance in my eyes:
“Come on, let’s hear what Sabibar proposes us to do,” she had whispered in my ear. Then turning to the man she asked:
“But do you know this place? I mean, have you been to Leh and the surrounding areas before?”
The man most likely had little desire to speak and limited himself by adding:
“I know him. We will discuss when it will be time to do so.”
We had walked to the small Homestay, a sort of guesthouse, whose owners made some rooms available to tourists. They were traditional places where you could share the life of the inhabitants. I was cold and unfortunately, not even the thick sweatshirt protected me sufficiently. I regretted not having considered that in those valleys, during the night even if it was summer, the temperature could drop below zero. The evening had passed quickly, it had darkened soon but Sabibar had not thought it was the right moment to speak and therefore he had remained silent as a fish.
“I preferred him when he told his nonsense”, I confessed to Govinda after dinner.
“What on earth is he waiting before telling us where to go looking for the old Sage? Moreover, why all these mysteries?”
Evidently the man knew of the discomfort he had created, his eyes had become dark and sometimes it seemed to me that a light of evil shone there. After the tea I had revealed to my friend the intention to speak with the owner of the house, but in response she had only advised me not to look for trouble.
“Let the night bring you advice, my friend. I do not think you can do much; much less find Sarabi Al-Surfa like this on the spot. Patience is a virtue of the wise!”
I had a strange dream that night: an immense snow leopard had chased me along a frozen river. I had been able to take refuge in a Chorten covered with a thick gold foil inside which herbal incense burned. The smoke was thick and the aroma penetrating, then the great Leopard had managed to enter but it had not hurt me. The animal had only spoken to me and I had understood its language! I had woken up with my heart pounding. Next to me, lying on a mattress slept Govinda. I knew it was an omen: the Leopard is a feline. All this was certainly connected to the reason why I was in Leh. I thought about my cats, only God knows how badly I missed them, as much as they missed me too! I was no longer able to go back to sleep, so I decided to get up as soon as the light would allow me to walk without the risk of stumbling; there was no electric light in that house. At half past four in the morning, I was on the wooden terrace watching the awakening nature. With a start, I realized that I was not alone. Sabibar smiled at me as he waved in the direction of a ripple in the mountain.
“It’s up there that we have to go. However, perhaps with a little luck the Sage will still come to you. He does not always take the form of a snow leopard!”
Dazed, I was left with my mouth open without being able to say a word. I thought it was because of the height, we were at 3,500 meters above sea level.
“No, it is not the lack of oxygen, Madam. I can really read your thoughts, as well as I have other faculties that may seem rather strange to you. You do not have to fear me, I reminded you to leave the task of guiding to your heart. Love never fails, even if many times it makes us suffer. You must also learn to use the FINDERORIÉN and for this, Sarabi Al-Surfa is waiting for you. He looked for you in the dream, but you was afraid despite the leopard being a feline… a little bigger than your cats, it’s true.”
He continued to observe me while with his hands he traced strange signs in the air. Later, still sitting on the terrace with a blanket on my knees, I had patiently waited for Govinda to wake up. Sabbiar had certainly strolled on his own, without adding any more details to our brief morning interview. That strange individual intrigued me more and more: even our innkeeper was very respectful to him and to me and all those salaams and bows, had started to annoy. And what, if he was some important person undercover? Maybe he was of royal lineage. On the other hand, maybe he was an incognito Maharajah. Nevertheless, deep in my heart I knew that I should not fear anything from him. Life had taught me that many times, we meet a person who is very close to us for a few days, another accompanies us for months, and some others share our worries and joys for years. However, when the reason for their presence ends and the teaching we were supposed to receive was given, that person can leave us. A bit like the awareness that every living being dies one day, and then be reborn in another body and therefore continue the Path that should lead him to true Happiness and Freedom. Sabibar was a sort of tool that allowed me to know and learn something new and important for me. I had admired the sunrise, while the sky was tinged with peach and cherry blossoms colours; very few clouds stained the horizon to the west, perhaps heralding the arrival of a storm brought by winds from the south of the highest mountains. Many birds chirped from the early dawn, festive trills and warbling that revealed the arrival of the sun to the world.
My gaze had escaped several times in the direction indicated by Sabibar: Sarabi Al-Surfa lived up there. The mountain appeared barren and with little vegetation of low bushes but I could not see anything alike the landscape of the dream of the previous night. In the dream, it was winter and the mountains were covered with snow that shone in the light of the full moon while the river was frozen and it was terribly cold.
Cradled by the whining of birds and the lullaby of people who were praying somewhere in the building, I must have dozed off for a while. I awoke with a start feeling the hand of the innkeeper who was shaking my shoulder slightly; there was a big smile on his face as he persistently repeated in English to follow him. Several people had already gathered at the back of the building, including a monk dressed in his wine red and yellow vestments. They spoke softly, indicating a passage by the stream that meandered like a crystal blade through the emerald of some fields. After a couple of minutes, Govinda also arrived with long black hair loose on her shoulders, who looked a little worried on her face.
“The owner told me there are traces of a large leopard! He is joyful because this has not happened for several decades; he says he called that monk you see below: he is a kind of expert. In the monastery on the easternmost mountains where he comes from, four days’ walk from here, the monks receive a visit of these beautiful endangered animals every day. In fact, it is very strange that there is one here in Leh; he managed to find the trace of the path that the animal has made. Somehow, it crossed the small river and immediately came in the direction of the building. The tracks end right under the window of the room where we slept!”
Govinda’s gaze had become inquisitive:
“You obviously don’t know anything about it? Moreover, tell me a little bit, how long have you been out here getting the morning fresh air? I also searched for Sabibar but there is no trace of him. His bed is intact; he certainly has not spent the night here.”
Now I had felt seized by the usual discomfort in the mouth of my stomach. What was I supposed to answer my friend? I decided to tell the truth, but without going into details, I took it aside by gently pulling her by the arm.
“Listen Govinda, do not fret, I think Sabibar was out at night… in fact, I saw him this morning on the terrace where you first found me. I woke up shortly after four o’clock, you slept soundly, but later I was unable to go back to sleep. I had a strange dream: I had a vision in which I met a snow leopard… it was a specimen of exceptional size and was there for me! I thought he wanted to attack me and so, in the dream, I ran away going to take refuge in a stupa like there are many here. However, the Leopard joined me and then spoke to me in an authoritative voice.”
I looked sideways at my friend, initially convinced that she might have an irritated or annoyed reaction, and then I continued whispering:
“Unfortunately, I don’t remember what the animal had said to me but I understood its language. I woke up, a little disoriented, and when it was clear enough to see where I was putting my feet, I went to the terrace. There I saw Sabibar, he seemed amused and he knew about my dream… as if, well, as if he too had been in the dream! One thing is now certain: I have to follow the footprints of the big cat, Govinda. Could you please ask the monk to show me where the tracks lead? Something tells me that, beyond the small river and then down on the valley floor among the pines, they will go up to that point of the mountain,” I indicated the valley marked a few hours earlier by Sabibar. “There I will find Sarabi-Al-Surfa, the old sage.”
The host had shown himself a little worried at my request to follow in the footsteps of the Leopard, but he seemed amused, I do not know if it was fear mixed with hilarity.
“Ma’am! What do you want to ask the big cat? Do you know its language?”
I answered his question with a shrug, a little irreverent, but very clear:
“Already already… and here everyone who cares about me. I know cats very well; I have a habit of sleeping together and listening to all their gossip… believe me, there is not much difference between a cat of 5 or 6 kilograms and that big big cat that wanders around here!”
Evidently, I was bluffing, and I only became aware of my wit when Govinda translated my sentence to the innkeeper and the monk into Hindi. They both touched their heads, where there is the fountain and the monk smiled talking to Govinda who then translated:
“He says that perhaps in a previous life your Mind was in a feline body. On the other hand, that perhaps you lived here, in their monastery, where the monks speak to the leopards. He still says that this is perhaps only the beginning of a new story.”
Govinda had then tried to add more details, but the monk appeared cheerful and had already ventured along the path followed by the Leopard.
“He says that now he will check where he went, and then when he has traced the path, he will return to instruct you on what to do… even if, well, I do not think it is a good idea to go to the mountain alone. You have a fixation on this cat story; do not forget that that animal weighs more than you do! I would like to know where Sabibar ended up, not even our host saw he… it is macabre, but have you thought about the possibility that the Leopard ate him?”
I had felt a shiver down my spine, for a moment my heart had missed a thud, I felt a sensation of ice around the head and then down to the tip of my feet.
“No, I do not think so. The Leopard had no fierce appearances. The animal had caught up with me in the dream and Sabibar had known this too. Something else is escaping me, Govinda. I have the distinct feeling that if I follow the tracks of the leopard up there in that valley, I will discover much more than I intend to discover! Even if I just wanted to get to know Sarabi-Al-Surfa to ask him for a story in exchange for the FINDERORIÉN.”
After a couple of hours the monk had retraced his steps, had joined us on the terrace of the wooden and stone building. The sun shone high at the zenith, while a fresh breeze moved the purple flowers of the Leycesteria with extreme sweetness, which decorated the wall less exposed to the cold north winds. His face was always friendly and smiling, he showed me an object he had found on the ground, he said, halfway down the slope that led to the valley. I took it with the hand that trembled a little:
“It is the Khanda of Sabibar! The tiara that stared at his turban… Was there only this? I mean… well… wasn’t there anything else around?”
The monk waited for Govinda to add some other details in Hindi by spelling the words to make himself better understood. Then Govinda translated the monk’s answer:
“No, nothing else. He reports that you should know, monks live here who also know how to fly! They are members of a sect, but this is not their symbol. However, it is a diadem of great value!” He turned it over in his hands showing me the back of the effigy depicting the two scimitars and the dagger; the back was a large faceted and very bright red stone.
“Damn!” said Govinda “looks like an egg-sized ruby!”
I looked more carefully at the tiara turning it between my fingers. There was something else: an engraving was visible representing none other than the FINDERORIÉN. The object I had received, as a gift, from the boy in the Thief’s Market in Delhi.
“It’s amazing, look,” I said, taking the object out of the bag “portrays precisely this FINDERORIÉN. What will it mean? Why behind Sabibar’s diadem?”
The monk had remained as petrified, observed the FINDERORIÉN and the Khanda that I held in my hands, then he had touched the top of his head again and had begun to recite a strange mantra. I did not recognize the words although the melody had a familiar twist. I looked sideways at the man, trying to sense what was happening. I did not want to interrupt his prayer because I was convinced it bode well for tomorrow’s adventure.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, Govinda reluctantly saw me leave. I had taken a minimal supply of food for the emergency and if I had to spend one night in the open air, the innkeeper had given me a sleeping bag. To protect me from the cold when the temperature would drop further, he had given me as well a heavy jacket of goose feathers. At that time of the year, it could happen that during the night the cold wind also brought some snowflakes.
The monk had walked quickly, making the tightrope walker along an invisible thread that allowed him to find flat pebbles above the surface of the water. Beyond the stream, which I too had crossed easily and fortunately without ever putting my foot in the wrong, I found myself walking on very green moss and covered with tiny white flowers. Large bushes of pink hydrangeas and thick tufts of blue poppy decorated the landscape here and there. Small cedars and pines imposed their presence reminding me of the Alps of my little Switzerland.
“Wait a minute, please!” I had shouted in a hoarse voice, “at this rate, I won’t reach the goal, if I don’t take a little breath.”
The good man, he had appeared to me as a reddish and yellow stain as he disappeared behind the bark of the pine grove. However, he had stopped a little further, sitting quietly waiting for me on a large boulder. At that height, I had difficulty breathing: the air contained little oxygen and you had to get used to taking things with greater peace of mind. Every movement seemed impossible to do, even just lifting one foot off the ground seemed like a difficult undertaking.
‘How much I would like to be more agile and fit! I hope to be able to continue alone, I bet that the monk will not be very inclined to the idea of being a mountain guide among those cliffs and stony ground.’ Thoughts buzzed in my head without giving me respite; the visions of the snow leopard, ever clearer and more involving, returned to torture me. I was convinced that the animal was the key to the mystery; deep inside I imagined how soft his hair would be and I dreamed of stroking it. The thought of my cats, staying home with my husband, had stabbed my heart.
‘Damn how much I miss them! Who knows if everyone will sleep on our bed.’
I arrived a couple of meters from the monk when he got back on his feet:
“Well, let’s separate, Madam.”
“You thought!” the idea made me angry and I answered a little annoyed: “Ahh, and I thought that your generosity would urge you to accompany me to see the Wise!”
The monk smiled as his eyes got even smaller, he replied in very elementary English:
“I cannot. Already had my Story as a gift from Sarabi Al-Surfa, Madam. This is why I am now a monk. Before I had a family, I was a wool merchant and I had a good life. His story has shown the way to true happiness.”
I was left with my mouth ajar, confused and embarrassed. Suddenly I did not even want to know other details; curiosity had died out in my heart as a bucket of frozen water can put out a camping fire. I felt my head aching, even if I was convinced it was the lack of oxygen, I knew that my boldness was turning into worry… in reverence… maybe even in fear. What would the History of the Old Wise teach me? What, if I also wanted to change my life? At that point, of the journey, of that path in search of Truth, I could not go back. I was sure that at the end of the search I would be satisfied and happy!
“Okay, well, thank you then. It was kind of leading me this far, now I allow my heart to show me the way. I have done it many times in my life; it is not that difficult, I know. I just have to trust myself and use love!”
I turned around a couple of times, to check if the monk had stayed there perhaps thinking that at the first obstacle I could have ruined to the ground and maybe fractured my leg, but he had immediately retraced his steps and without even turning around. He was certain in his heart, having already reached his destination, his goal.
I had tried to intensify every bodily perception; now I felt more clearly the underlying ground on which I rested my feet, I carefully checked each small stone for its stability. About halfway from the valley, it was there waiting for me, a whitish and speckled spot stretched out on a spike of rock. Its long tail, as big as my arm, appeared darker towards the tip where the spots were concentric and black. A majestic specimen of Snow Leopard with a proud look, its ears pricked over his head showed interest in the human who was about to enter its kingdom. I had perceived every muscle in the body tensing; the sense of smell had become more subtle while, almost without realizing it, my legs had assumed such agility as to allow me to jump easily from one rock to another. The presence of the big cat about ten meters away did not intimidate me. I tried to speak but the words remained unspoken thoughts, so I just thought.
‘Here I am. You called me and I ran, as agreed by fate… by destiny! What have you, O majestic Creature, to bring me as a message? You appeared to me in the dream and I followed you.’
I did not have to wait long to receive a nod from the big cat: he had risen on all fours, and with an agile leap, he had approached. I had stopped, respectfully. My gaze had landed in reverence; the animal had approached and with its muzzle in the air, smelled to understand who was in front of it. A faint and hoarse mew had confirmed his approval: he had come closer to being less than a meter away from my body. I then crouched down, holding my hands forward with my palms facing upwards in a sort of gesture of submission. The great snow leopard had come up to touch my hands then it had also crouched on his hind legs and was watching me. His yellow eyes with a slightly dilated pupil due to the intensity of the light, shone with a sweet and at the same time proud awareness.
‘Welcome foreigner, my name is Siramian. I have been waiting for you for a long time, your path has been perilous and difficult over the years, but it will be even more so in the future. I know that you are looking for your story, which can make you decide to change your life forever or… it can confirm what you will do in the awareness of the reason why you live. Follow me, please.’
Its words, nothing else, were thoughts expressed by my conscience; they had opened me to the Truth: I could already communicate in that mysterious language. It was the same language used by my cats, after all, I had always known it, and I had always used it! Only now, I was aware of it. I had stretched my right hand up to touch the head of the big cat; he had turned his head slightly towards me, narrowing his eyes. Therefore, I gently stroked it down the neck and down the back, just as if I did with my cats. Then Siramian had continued to communicate in thought.
‘You must always trust what you do. Within every human being, there is a great potential, few realize it, very few find their FINDERORIÉN but only a negligible percentage listens to the words of the heart that should lead them to discover the reason for their life. The knowledge of countless existences is stored inside every human being, you have all discovered the Magic several times and you should be able to use it… This is what Sarabi Al-Surfa wants you to know, since your story is already written and he knows that you can follow your path in peace. Your cat friends, who are so similar and dear to me, are already helping you understand!”
I had carefully received Siramian’s revelations, staring him straight in the eye, trying to understand if its message concealed a new mystery.
‘I think I can trust what I do…’ I said mentally. ‘Will you take me to Sarabi Al-Surfa? I have a gift for him!’
Without adding anything else, the big cat had risen and retraced its steps; a couple of times he stopped to check if I could follow him without problems. The Snow Leopard chose a path that was easily accessible to me. Every now and then, he stopped to wait for me or to give me the opportunity to drink some tea from my bottle.
The sun had for some time gone beyond the zenith when we finally reached a clearing among the rocks with a few brushwood and some bergenia with pale flowers that gave the only touch of color. In the background against the blue sky, the Chorten that I had seen in my dream stood out. I had stopped, assailed by a strong doubt: did I really want to know my story? On the other hand, was it simply the curiosity to see the old Sage personally? Perhaps fear had taken hold of my thought, while these words still rang in my head like a threatening omen.
‘Well? Have we lost our determination? You do not have to fear, let Love guide your steps.’
The Leopard had walked towards the Chorten, covered with a thick solid gold foil, which shone in the sunset light. I realized that the night would soon come and that there was no time to return to the hostel. I had no choice. I had to follow Siramian.
Inside the Chorten, I found myself surrounded by a soft light emanating from several candles while an intense scent of incense had rekindled in me ancient memories. When the gaze had grown accustomed to the twilight, my eyes scanned the interior of that place of prayer. I was not immediately able to see the dark shape crouched in a corner: however, I sensed the eyes of the old Sage who were peering at me.
“Welcome, finally! I have been waiting for you for many moons.”
The voice was melodious and a little trembling; the great snow leopard had approached me and now I felt its breath on my right hand. Instinctively I stroked it on the head and it immediately began to purr.
“I am delighted to see that you made friends with Siramian, the big cat… but in the end it is only a little bigger than the many cats with which you share everyday life! The cat has been worshiped for over 5,000 years; the Egyptians believed it to be sacred and the goddess Bastet, protector of humanity, was depicted with a cat’s head. However, you already know this, don’t you? You came here for another reason… you want to hear your story!”
At the same time I had perceived a gust of cold wind coming from the opening behind me and the snow leopard had slightly gritted its teeth turning towards the entrance. Something or someone had penetrated inside: the presence had become noticeable, I sensed that it was coming in my direction. “Do not worry, it is Time! I need Him to be able to tell you your story… but tell me, will you be willing to fulfil our desire?”
The old sage’s voice was serious and determined. The presence had become certain, I could hear the rustle of Time echoing in the semi darkness while the Snow Leopard had crouched at my side again and the old man had approached us. Sitting on a sort of stool, which I had not initially noticed; Sarabi Al-Surfa had stretched out his gaunt hands towards me.
“Well, now let us see what you brought me! I learned from Siramian that it is very beautiful, one of a kind! I am curious to see it and I thank you for this delicate thought!”
With a slightly trembling voice, I replied to the Sage, offering the gift:
“I think it has a great virtue, my husband and I called it FINDERORIÉN but I know for sure that it has many names. My dad, many years ago, told me that all people should have one: to remember… and not to forget. I know there is a symbolic meaning in this, since magic is linked to the object and to our cats. Is this perhaps the meaning of MY Story? Is there something I must always remember and do, and our cats will help me do it?”
Sarabi Al-Surfa had narrowed his eyes, stroked the object and started humming a lullaby. The air had become fresh and I sensed the presence of Time around me. Finally, the old Sage had begun to tell a long story, a very long story. My Story!
In a place difficult to reach by land, I had known an old sage and a large snow leopard, which changed my life.
Sarabi Al-Surfa had asked me to tell the world the story you are reading now, since he wished that more and more children could find their FINDERORIÉN and therefore finally bring peace to this beautiful Planet Earth. Using the eyes of the heart and letting yourself be guided by Love, you too can find your FINDERORIÉN and erase all traces of evil and pain from the world!
Later, when you are ready, you can go to the old Sage of the Mountain yourself: he is waiting for you!
In recent months I have repeatedly asked myself whether there is a relationship, albeit indirect, between the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic and global warming. On the one hand, it is stated that there is still no scientific evidence, but many times reference is made to other viruses of the same Orthocoronavirinae family, for example SARS, for which a correlation with overheating of the planet had been confirmed. Anthropogenic pressure with its mechanical actions designed to deforest to obtain more arable land (for extensive forage crops for “meat animals”), obliges the wild animals that live there to migrate: this is a threat, considering that they can be incubators of viruses. In most cases there is no “species jump”, but in the case of an “appropriate” genetic mutation, a virus from the animal can be transmitted to the human. A little revenge: all those who despised the “Fridays for Future” movement may have caught the message now… However, I am led to believe that everyone, apart from a few exceptions and without distinction of class or education, has realized that the phenomenon of global warming is not a lie. However, we must not forget that speciesism also has its part in the propagation of viruses: those who follow my blog will have already read several times that the exploitation of animals by humans has directly harmful effects (see wet markets, intense animal breeding for meat etc.)
Initially opponents of the “Fridays for Future” and other movements, as well as the well-known “Extinction Rebellion”, were babbling that climate change does not exist and that the exploitation of the soil and desertification for anthropogenic cause do no harm. What I hoped for is greater growth in awareness, now that we have slowly returned to normal in post-covid-19, but unfortunately I realized that the huge fear had passed… people have already forgotten their good intentions.
Can we hope for a paradigm shift? Of course, we no longer take a plane on Friday to visit Barcelona and then return to your home on Sunday. In addition, mobility has changed, and how! People are afraid to take public transportation and therefore use private cars, the tendency is to take holidays in their own country, which is also good for the local economy. This, perhaps, is the only change that I see: okay, no one is robbing supermarkets by raiding toilet paper and mineral water, but we have returned exactly to the usual frenetic and selfish rhythms of before. Ah, maybe I’m wrong, one thing has changed: first, on the sides of the streets or in city parks I found cans of beer or McDonald’s bags with polystyrene boxes, now the masks and sanitary gloves have been added. This reminds us that SARS-CoV-2 is always out there, lurking, ready to infect us and that after it the list will continue to grow considering that the number of coronaviruses is growing rapidly. The radical change was expected, with the smog blown away by the skies of the big cities during the lockdown, we were also deluded that something truly positive for the environment would happen.
But the tranquility of deserted roads in which even wild animals had returned to appear no longer frightened by the human presence, is now only a strange memory. Everything looks like something paradoxical, a déjà-vu that bounces off the walls of our brain alike in the REM phase. In discussing with acquaintances, I realized that each of us lived this experience in a very different way. Some have been psychologically very touched in the absence of social contacts, others have used their time to devote themselves more to private matters and their own needs, still, others who have overcome it without making dramas. Unfortunately, the estimate of the deaths due to covid-19 is over 500 thousand (28.6.2020), but the counting proceeds, SARS-CoV-2 has not taken a holiday and consequently, each person should keep “high guard” while keeping the “social distancing” and use of the mask in public environments, as well as other, recommended hygiene rules.
Gary Strokes (Ocean Asia) on Soko Island (foto Reuters)
In questi ultimi mesi mi sono più volte chiesta se c’è una relazione, seppure indiretta, fra pandemia da SARS-CoV-2 e riscaldamento globale. Da una parte si afferma che non ci sono ancora evidenze scientifiche, ma molte volte si fa riferimento ad altri virus della stessa famiglia Orthocoronavirinae, ad esempio la SARS, per la quale era stata confermata una correlazione con il surriscaldamento del pianeta. La pressione antropica con le sue azioni meccaniche atte a deforestare per ottenere maggiore terreno coltivabile (per coltivazioni estensive di foraggio per “animali da carne”), obbliga gli animali che vi abitano a migrare: questa è una minaccia, considerando che possono essere incubatori di virus.
Nella maggior parte dei casi non c’è un “salto di specie”, ma in caso di mutazione genetica “appropriata” un virus dall’animale può essere trasmesso all’umano. Una piccola rivincita: tutti quelli che disprezzavano il movimento “Fridays for Future” forse ora avranno colto il messaggio… Sono comunque portata a credere che tutti, a parte poche eccezioni e senza distinzione di ceto o formazione, si sono accorti che il fenomeno del riscaldamento globale non è una panzana.
Non bisogna però dimenticare che anche lo specismo ha la sua parte nella propagazione di virus: chi segue il mio blog avrà già più volte letto che lo sfruttamento di animali da parte dell’uomo ha influssi direttamente nefasti (vedi wetmarkets, allevamenti intensi di animali per carne ecc.) Inizialmente gli oppositori ai “Fridays for Future” ed altri movimenti come anche il ben noto “Extintion Rebellion”, andavano blaterando che i cambiamenti climatici non esistono e che lo sfruttamento del suolo e la desertificazione per causa antropica non recano alcun danno.
Ciò che speravo è una crescita maggiore della consapevolezza, ora che lentamente siamo tornati alla normalità nel post-covid-19, ma purtroppo mi sono resa conto che passata la grande paura… le persone si sono già dimenticate dei buoni propositi.
Possiamo sperare in un cambiamento di paradigma? Certo, ora non si prende più l’aereo il venerdì per visitare Barcellona e poi rientrare la domenica al proprio domicilio. Inoltre la mobilità è cambiata eccome! La gente ha timore a prendere mezzi di trasporto pubblici e quindi utilizza l’auto privata, la tendenza è quella fare vacanza nella propria nazione, che è anche un bene per l’economia locale.
Questo, forse, è l’unico cambiamento che visualizzo: va bene, più nessuno svaligia i supermercati facendo razzia di carta WC e acqua minerale, ma siamo tornati esattamente ai soliti ritmi frenetici ed egoistici di prima. Ah, forse mi sbaglio, una cosa è cambiata: prima ai lati delle strade o nei parchi cittadini trovato lattine di birra o sacchetti del McDonald’s con contenitori in polistirolo, ora si sono aggiunte le mascherine e guanti sanitari.
Questo a ricordarci che la SARS-CoV-2 è sempre là fuori, in agguato, pronta ad infettarci e che dopo di lei la lista continuerà ad ingrandirsi considerando che il numero dei coronavirus sta crescendo rapidamente. Si prospettava un cambiamento radicale, con lo smog spazzato via dai cieli delle grandi città durante il lockdown, ci si era anche illusi che qualcosa di veramente positivo per l’ambiente sarebbe accaduto.
Ma la tranquillità di strade deserte nelle quali pure gli animali selvaggi erano tornati a percorrere non più spaventati dalla presenza umana, è ora solo uno strano ricordo. Tutto appare come un qualcosa di paradossale, un déjà-vu che rimbalza sulle pareti del nostro cervello come nella fase REM.
Discutendo con conoscenti, mi sono accorta che ognuno di noi ha vissuto in modo molto diverso quest’esperienza. Chi è stato psicologicamente molto toccato in mancanza dei contatti sociali, altri che hanno utilizzato il loro tempo per dedicarsi maggiormente a sé stessi ed ai propri bisogni, altri ancora che lo hanno superato senza fare drammi. Purtroppo la stima dei morti a causa del covid-19 è di oltre 500mila (28.6.2020), ma il conteggio procede, SARS-CoV-2 non ha preso vacanza e di conseguenza ogni persona dovrebbe tenere “alta la guardia” mantenendo il distanziamento sociale e l’utilizzo della mascherina in ambienti pubblici, nonché le altre norme di igiene consigliate.
By Silvana Marzari Rio Abierto instructor(testo in italiano in basso)
There was a time when man lived at a respectful distance from heaven. The sky was represented by a huge blue vault that extended above the earth. It was the home of God. The sky was so vast, high and far away that only birds and mountains could touch it. Looking up to the starry night or the infinite blue during the day, men understood how small they were. Now we cross the sky with planes and rockets and leave our footprints on the moon. At this point, it is obvious, that the old image of the “sky” hardly manages to coexist with the modern idea of “space”.
But the cosmos is everyone’s story. The universe originated around 13.8 billion years ago. It came with a big bang. And our skies and our earth were not the only ones to be created: the solar system belongs to a galaxy of billions of stars, which in turn is only one of billions of galaxies.
We are surrounded by the cosmos. The earth and stars are sailing in the cosmos. A star is a celestial body that shines with its own light. Our ancestors knew how to read the stars, orient themselves with the help of the stars in the seas, in the deserts, everywhere. The “all” is what we call the universe. I want to ask you when was the last time you took the time to observe the stars?
This is precisely what will be proposed this week: look at the stars.
Proposal of workout:
You don’t need anything material to look at the stars. You need some time and a beautiful starry sky. Choose a place from where you can observe your starry sky. Put yourself in a position that is comfortable for you, if you also lie down, with your face upwards, towards the stars. Look up into this immensity, into this beauty. See also what you don’t see: All billions of galaxies, with billions of stars. The stars are so ancient and distant. Their light took millions, if not billions, of years to reach you. The stars speak to us of infinity, of mystery. Let yourself be enveloped by this enormity. You are part of this immense. The cosmos is everyone’s story. In the night the sun rests and the stars and the moon watch over you too.
Please note: text prepared by Silvana Marzari instructor of Rio Abierto.
C’era un tempo in cui l’uomo viveva a rispettosa distanza dal cielo. Il cielo era rappresentato da un enorme volta blu che si estendeva al di sopra della terra. Era la dimora di Dio. Il cielo era così vasto, alto e lontano che solo gli uccelli e le montagne potevano toccarlo. Sollevando lo sguardo verso la notte stellata o il blu infinito durante il giorno gli uomini comprendevano quanto erano piccoli. Ora solchiamo il cielo con aerei e razzi e lasciamo le nostre impronte sulla luna. A questo punto, è ovvio, che la vecchia immagine del “cielo” difficilmente riesce a convivere con la moderna idea di “spazio”.
Ma il cosmo è la storia di tutti. L’universo è nato circa 13,8 miliardi di anni fa. È arrivato con un Big Bang. E i nostri cieli e la nostra terra non sono stati gli unici a essere creati: il sistema solare appartiene a una galassia di miliardi di stelle, che a sua volta è solo una fra miliardi di galassie.
Siamo circondati dal cosmo. La terra e le stelle stanno navigando nel cosmo. Una stella è un corpo celeste che brilla di luce propria. I nostri antenati sapevano leggere le stelle, orientarsi con l’aiuto delle stelle nei mari, nei deserti, ovunque. Il “tutto” e ciò che noi chiamiamo universo. Vi voglio chiedere quando è stato l’ultima volte che vi siete presi il tempo per osservare le stelle?Cappella degli Scrovegni with frescoes by Giotto XIV century – Padua
Proprio questo sarà la proposto di questa settimana: guardare le stelle.
Proposta di lavoro: Per guardare le stelle non ti serve niente di materiale. Hai bisogno un po di tempo e un bel cielo stellato. Scegli un luogo da dove puoi osservare bene il tuo cielo stellato. Mettiti in una posizione per te comoda, se voi anche sdraiata, col volto all’insù, verso le stelle. Guarda su in questa immensità, in questa bellezza. Vedi anche quello che non vedi: Tutte le miliardi di galassie, con le miliardi di stelle. Le stelle sono così antiche e lontane. La loro luce ha impiegato milioni, se non miliardi, di anni per giungere a te. Le stelle ci parlano dell’infinito, del mistero. Lasciati avvolgere da questa enormità. Fai parte di questo immenso. Il cosmo è la storia di tutti. Nella notte il sole riposa e le stelle e la luna vegliano, anche su di te.
A scathing look at the animal cruelty inside a slaughterhouse, from an investigator, vegan and activist.
“I can’t cave any of them.” That’s what I reminded myself, day after day, as I looked upon the faces of the animals who would soon be slaughtered. “Just do what you came here to do,” I would add, locking my eyes forward to concentrate on the task at hand. There’s no time to stop and be sentimental. At a slaughterhouse, there’s always work to be done.
During the years I was an undercover investigator, I worked at three slaughterhouses in three different states on behalf of a national farmer animal protection organization. While working, I used hidden camera equipment to document the painful reality of animals endure on the last day of their lives.
I often asked myself how I ended up where I was. Like a lot of people in the vegan movement, I would call myself an animal lover. When I was young, I only had a few career goals. After seeing Jurassic Park, I wanted to grow up and study reptiles. Then, after consuming copious comic books, I wanted to be a hero. I combined these goals and eventually earned a master’s degree in ecology, with the goal of doing conservation research to protect wild animals. But, while I was in school, I learned about the suffering of farm animals through a labmate, the first vegan I ever knew in real life.
You probably guessed this already, but after a lengthy process, I became a vegan as well. Why wouldn’t I? Not only is meat production cruel, but it’s also notoriously bad for the environment, in terms of land use and emissions. So, it appealed to me as someone interested in conservation. In fact, I was so entranced with veganism and its benefits that I decided to keep my career options somewhat open. I wanted to either end up in field research or in activism. The non-profit I continue to work for today was the first to respond to my resume, which eventually brought me to those slaughterhouses.
I ended up working at chicken, pig, and lamb slaughter facilities before I retired from fieldwork. I saw cruelty everywhere I went: some intentional and some as a result of companies trying to maximize speed (and, therefore, profits).
The chicken slaughterhouse: animal cruelty bordering on torture
My first job undercover was at the poultry plant, working live hang. Our one job was to pull chickens off a conveyor belt and wedge their legs in shackles passing by at eye-level. We were supposed to handle 24 chickens per minute, an impossible time frame for anything even resembling “humane”. The birds would struggle; they would flap their wings or defecate out of fear, releasing feathers, blood, and feces everywhere. The other workes seemed unconcerned with their plight. They would tear feathers off to throw at one another, or press the bodies of chickens against the metal conveyor belt in retaliation against their struggling. Sometimes, the workers at the head of the line would take a few steps back and hurl the birds at the shackles like they were baseballs. Often, the birds would successfully end up in the shackles after these pitches. It was easy to see that the workers had practiced this method.
The pig slaughterhouse: inhumane methods of killing
My second position was at a slaughterhouse supplying a household name in pork products. I ended up working two different jobs there, one of which was on the kill floor. Part of the job was herding the animals through chutes and pens until they reached the stunner. Afraid and/or injured, sometimes they wouldn’t want to move or simply couldn’t. And when the pigs weren’t moving, the workers started to become violent.
We had “rattle paddles” which look like oars with the flat end filled with noise-making beads. Workers would raise these paddles above their heads and bring them down on the heads or bodies of pigs. Several times, I was admonished by other for not doing this. “Hit them! Hit them” they would yell at me. We also had access to electrical prods, which others workers would use on animals multiple times, sometimes in the face or near the genitals. The sick ones would be pulled by their tails or shoved out of the pens. We were supposed to use a sled to do that, but a supervisor told me they just didn’t have the time.
When the animals got past the chutes, a worker would use an electrical stunner on them. The hogs would go rigid and fall down a slide to a conveyor belt below. There, a worker would cut their Throats If the cut wasn’t done correctly, the animal wouldn’t bleed out enough to kill them before the stunning wore off, so I documented several pigs returning to sensibility and attempting to right themselves while they were hanging upside down, bleeding from the gaping hole in their throats. Workers were supposed to stop the line to re-stun the animal, but in one instance I witnessed, they didn’t bother, leaving the animal to suffer as the shackle took him slowly towards tanks of scalding water. I remember a choice quote from one worker: “If USDA were around, they could shut us down.”
The lamb slaughterhouse: processing contaminated meat
My final investigation was at a slaughterhouse for one of the largest lamb producers in the U.S. I spent a few months working in a refrigerated room all day. The supervisor would tell workers to change the “best by” date labels on older products to falsify their freshness. He would help people avoid putting products through the metal detectors to save time, risking contamination of the meat with metal shavings. And when I finally got a position that would help me observe the slaughter process, we discovered that after having their throats cut open, 90 percent of the lambs would move in response to having their tails cut off later on the line, indicating they were potentially still sensible. What we saw was so egregious we decided to file a False Claims Act against the company, which resulted in a historic intervention from the Department of Justice, a settlement, and mandate changes to their slaughtering practices.
Slaughterhouse workers suffer, too
Slaughterhouse practices don’t just cause suffering for the animals. Meatpacking plants are notoriously dangerous for workers, with two amputations occurring in the U.S. per week (https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/jul/05/amputations-serious-injuries-us-meat-industry-plant). Most of my jobs were basically assembly line jobs, with workers performing the same action hundreds or thousands of times per day. Injuries are common, especially those caused by the repetitive motions on the line. I remember my hands aching every minute while I was employed in live hang, my knuckles red from holding the bony legs of thousand of chickens.
In another job, I wore a back brace on top of another because I spent all day carrying boxes filled with lamb meat. I cut myself on knives and metal hangers at the pig plant. More than once, I cried in my car before a shift, anticipating the mental and physical anguish I would endure for the next 12 hours. (And, now, during the coronavirus pandemic many Americans are painfully aware of how a disease can spread like wildfire inside of these facilities.)
Though all of that is behind me now, it is still the reality for the billions of animals who are slaughtered every year. While I’m retired from undercover work, I’m still very much an activist for animals. As part of my job, I work with footage from other investigators and witness the same cruelty I saw firsthand. But it’s worth it because I want people to see what I saw, as hard as it can be to watch. Despite the efforts of investigators like myself, there are still so many people who have no idea where their “food” comes from, and what horrible atrocities they’re paying into by buying animal products. My hope is that everyone who is even a little curious about what I went through can take the time to watch some of the footage brought back from these facilities. As someone who was on the inside, I hope the reality of the plight reaches you.
Uno sguardo atroce alla crudeltà verso gli animali all’interno di un macello, da un investigatore, un vegano e un attivista.
“Non posso scavare nessuno di loro.” È quello che mi sono ricordato, giorno dopo giorno, mentre guardavo le facce degli animali che sarebbero presto stati massacrati. “Fai solo quello che sei venuto qui per fare”, aggiungerei, chiudendo gli occhi per concentrarmi sul compito da svolgere. Non c’è tempo per fermarsi ed essere sentimentali. In un macello c’è sempre del lavoro da fare.
Nel corso degli anni sono stato un investigatore sotto copertura, ho lavorato in tre macelli in tre diversi stati per conto di un’organizzazione nazionale per la protezione degli animali da allevamento. Durante il lavoro, ho usato le attrezzature nascoste della fotocamera per documentare la dolorosa realtà che gli animali sopportano l’ultimo giorno della loro vita.
Mi sono chiesto spesso come sono finito dove mi trovavo. Come molte persone nel movimento vegano, mi definirei un amante degli animali. Quando ero giovane, avevo solo alcuni obiettivi di carriera. Dopo aver visto Jurassic Park, volevo crescere e studiare rettili. Quindi, dopo aver consumato copiosi fumetti, volevo diventare un eroe. Ho unito questi obiettivi e alla fine ho conseguito un master in ecologia, con l’obiettivo di fare ricerche sulla conservazione per proteggere gli animali selvatici. Ma, mentre ero a scuola, ho appreso della sofferenza degli animali da allevamento attraverso un compagno di laboratorio, il primo vegano che abbia mai conosciuto nella vita reale.
Probabilmente hai già indovinato questo, ma dopo un lungo processo, sono diventato anche vegano. Perché non dovrei? Non solo la produzione di carne è crudele, ma è anche notoriamente dannosa per l’ambiente, in termini di utilizzo del suolo ed emissioni. Quindi, mi è piaciuto come qualcuno interessato alla conservazione. In effetti, ero così affascinato dal veganismo e dai suoi benefici che ho deciso di mantenere le mie opzioni di carriera in qualche modo aperte. Volevo finire nella ricerca sul campo o nell’attivismo. Il non profit per cui continuo a lavorare oggi è stato il primo a rispondere al mio curriculum, che alla fine mi ha portato a quei macelli.
Ho finito per lavorare nelle strutture di macellazione di polli, maiali e agnelli prima di ritirarmi dal lavoro sul campo. Ho visto la crudeltà ovunque andassi: alcuni intenzionali e altri come risultato di aziende che cercavano di massimizzare la velocità (e, quindi, i profitti).
Il macello del pollo: crudeltà verso gli animali confinante con la tortura
Il mio primo lavoro sotto copertura è stato presso la fabbrica di pollame, lavorando dal vivo. Il nostro unico compito era quello di estrarre i polli da un nastro trasportatore e incastrare le gambe in catene che passavano all’altezza degli occhi. Avremmo dovuto gestire 24 polli al minuto, un lasso di tempo impossibile per qualsiasi cosa che somigliasse a “umana”. Gli uccelli avrebbero lottato; sbattevano le ali o defecavano per paura, liberando piume, sangue e feci dappertutto. Le altre opere sembravano non preoccuparsi della loro condizione. Si strappavano le piume per gettarsi l’una contro l’altra, o premevano i corpi di polli contro il nastro trasportatore di metallo in rappresaglia contro le loro lotte. A volte, gli operai in cima alla fila facevano qualche passo indietro e lanciavano gli uccelli alle catene come se fossero palle da baseball. Spesso, dopo queste piazzole, gli uccelli finivano con successo nelle catene. Era facile vedere che i lavoratori avevano praticato questo metodo.
Il macello del maiale: metodi disumani di uccisione
La mia seconda posizione era in un macello che forniva un nome familiare nei prodotti suini. Ho finito per lavorare due diversi lavori lì, uno dei quali era sul piano di uccisione. Parte del lavoro consisteva nel radunare gli animali attraverso scivoli e penne fino a quando non raggiunsero lo storditore. Impauriti e / o feriti, a volte non vorrebbero muoversi o semplicemente non potrebbero. E quando i maiali non si muovevano, gli operai iniziarono a diventare violenti.
Avevamo “pagaie a sonagli” che sembrano remi con l’estremità piatta piena di perline che producono rumore. Gli operai sollevano queste pagaie sopra le loro teste e le abbattono sulle teste o sui corpi dei maiali. Più volte, sono stato ammonito da altri per non averlo fatto. “Colpiscili! Colpiscili” mi gridavano. Avevamo anche accesso a dispositivi elettrici, che altri lavoratori avrebbero usato sugli animali più volte, a volte in faccia o vicino ai genitali. I malati sarebbero stati tirati per la coda o spinti fuori dalle penne. Avremmo dovuto usare una slitta per farlo, ma un supervisore mi disse che non avevano tempo.
Quando gli animali superavano gli scivoli, un lavoratore usava uno storditore elettrico su di loro. I maiali si irrigidivano e cadevano da uno scivolo a un nastro trasportatore sottostante. Lì, un lavoratore taglierebbe le loro gole Se il taglio non fosse eseguito correttamente, l’animale non sanguinerebbe abbastanza da ucciderli prima che lo stordimento svanisse, quindi ho documentato diversi suini che tornavano alla sensibilità e cercavano di raddrizzarsi mentre erano appesi a testa in giù, sanguinanti dal buco aperto in gola. I lavoratori dovevano fermare la fila per re-stordire l’animale, ma in un caso ho assistito, non si sono preoccupati, lasciando l’animale a soffrire mentre il grillo lo porta lentamente verso i serbatoi di acqua bollente. Ricordo una citazione scelta da un lavoratore: “Se l’USDA fosse in giro, potrebbe chiuderci.”
Il macello dell’agnello: lavorazione della carne contaminata
La mia indagine finale è stata presso un macello di uno dei più grandi produttori di agnelli degli Stati Uniti. Ho trascorso alcuni mesi a lavorare in una stanza refrigerata tutto il giorno. Il supervisore direbbe ai lavoratori di cambiare le etichette delle date “migliori per” sui prodotti più vecchi per falsificare la loro freschezza. Aiuterebbe le persone a evitare di mettere i prodotti attraverso i metal detector per risparmiare tempo, rischiando la contaminazione della carne con trucioli di metallo. E quando finalmente ho ottenuto una posizione che mi avrebbe aiutato ad osservare il processo di macellazione, abbiamo scoperto che dopo aver aperto la gola, il 90 percento degli agnelli si sarebbe mosso in risposta al taglio della coda in seguito, indicando che erano potenzialmente ancora ragionevole. Ciò che abbiamo visto è stato così eclatante che abbiamo deciso di presentare un False Claims Act contro la società, che ha provocato un intervento storico da parte del Dipartimento di Giustizia, un insediamento e il mandato di modifiche alle loro pratiche di macellazione.
Anche i lavoratori dei mattatoi soffrono
Le pratiche del mattatoio non causano solo sofferenza per gli animali. Gli impianti di confezionamento della carne sono notoriamente pericolosi per i lavoratori, con due amputazioni che si verificano negli Stati Uniti a settimana (https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/jul/05/amputations-serious-injuries-us-meat-industry-plant) . La maggior parte dei miei lavori erano fondamentalmente lavori in catena di montaggio, con i lavoratori che eseguivano la stessa azione centinaia o migliaia di volte al giorno. Gli infortuni sono comuni, in particolare quelli causati dai movimenti ripetitivi sulla linea. Ricordo che mi dolevano le mani ogni minuto mentre lavoravo in sospensione dal vivo, le mie nocche rosse per tenere le gambe ossute di migliaia di polli.
In un altro lavoro, ho indossato un rinforzo posteriore sopra un altro perché ho passato tutto il giorno a trasportare scatole piene di carne di agnello. Mi sono tagliato su coltelli e ganci di metallo nella pianta del maiale. Più di una volta, ho pianto in macchina prima di un turno, anticipando l’angoscia mentale e fisica che avrei sopportato per le successive 12 ore. (E, ora, durante la pandemia di coronavirus molti americani sono dolorosamente consapevoli di come una malattia possa diffondersi come un incendio all’interno di queste strutture.)
Anche se tutto ciò è alle mie spalle adesso, è ancora la realtà per i miliardi di animali che vengono macellati ogni anno. Mentre sono in pensione dal lavoro sotto copertura, sono ancora un attivista per gli animali. Come parte del mio lavoro, lavoro con filmati di altri investigatori e sono testimone della stessa crudeltà che ho visto in prima persona. Ma ne vale la pena perché voglio che le persone vedano ciò che ho visto, per quanto sia difficile da guardare. Nonostante gli sforzi degli investigatori come me, ci sono ancora così tante persone che non hanno idea da dove provenga il loro “cibo” e in quali orribili atrocità stanno pagando acquistando prodotti di origine animale. La mia speranza è che chiunque sia anche un po ‘curioso di quello che ho passato possa dedicare del tempo a guardare alcuni filmati ripresi da queste strutture. Come qualcuno che era dentro, spero che la realtà della situazione ti raggiunga.
The above pictures are taken from the web, shows the pitiful state of the little animals, caged in small wire boxes. The horrible situation of stress which pushes the animals toward cannibalism and violence one against the other.
Devastating decision: more than 10,000 minks for fur, will be killed in Holland following the discovery of possible transmission of SARS-CoV-2 from animals to humans. On a farm in Deurne in the south of the country, due to cases of infection of some animals, 1,500 minks have already been killed using carbon monoxide to prevent the spread of the virus. And the undifferentiated killing of minks will continue until the suppression of all specimens, even puppies. Despite the interventions of various animal welfare associations, the Dutch Food & Wares authority has been adamant and the Amsterdam Court has given the go-ahead to the massacre. Claire Bass director of the Humane Society International UK, has asked that the 24 countries around the world that still allow the breeding of visions (for furs) to quickly assess the situation and evidence of what is happening in the Netherlands. China, Denmark and Poland are the largest mink producers and annually kill 60 million animals for fur. In Holland, there are 140 mink farms that export 90 million euros of fur per year. But even in Italy there are farms in different regions… establishments where the poor animals are born and live in horrendous hygienic conditions in narrow spaces where infernal scenarios take place. As long as there is “demand” from “consumers”, innocent animals will be bred in captivity to be killed for their furs. Wearing fur from animals raised in pitiful conditions is a matter of ethics. On the market we find imitations so perfect as to hardly distinguish them from real fur… they certainly cost less, they are free of suffering and if it is really necessary because of the rigid temperatures, they shelter optimally from the cold.
Refusing to generate suffering to other creatures is a personal matter, this is obvious. But I believe that those who wear this item of clothing are not sensitive to the topic and certainly not inclined to hear reasons.
migliaia di gabbie con le povere creature imprigionate
Devastante decisione: in Olanda saranno uccisi più di 10.000 visoni da pelliccia, a seguito della scoperta di possibile trasmissione del SARS-CoV-2 dagli animali all’uomo. In una fattoria a Deurne nel sud del paese, a causa di casi d’infezione di alcuni esemplari, sono già stati soppressi utilizzando del monossido di carbonio, 1.500 animali per prevenire il dilagare del virus. E gli abbattimenti indifferenziati dei visoni continueranno fino alla soppressione indistinta di tutti gli esemplari, anche i cuccioli. Malgrado gli interventi di diverse associazioni animaliste, la Food&Wares authority olandese è stata irremovibile ed il Tribunale di Amsterdam ha dato il nulla osta alla strage. Claire Bass direttore della Humane Society International UK, ha chiesto che i 24 paesi in tutto il mondo che consentono ancora l’allevamento di visioni (per pellicce) di valutare rapidamente la situazione e le prove di quanto sta accadendo nei Paesi Bassi. Cina, Danimarca e Polonia sono i maggiori produttori di visoni e abbattono annualmente 60 milioni di animali per le pellicce. In Olanda, ci sono 140 allevamenti di visoni che esportano 90 milioni di euro di pellicce l’anno. Ma anche in Italia ci sono allevamenti in diverse regioni… stabilimenti dove le povere bestiole nascono e vivono in orrende condizioni igieniche in spazi angusti dove si svolgono scenari infernali. Fin tanto che ci sarà la “richiesta” da parte dei “consumatori”, animali innocenti saranno allevati in cattività per essere ammazzati per le loro pellicce. Indossare una pelliccia proveniente da animali allevati in condizioni pietose, è una questione di etica. Sul mercato troviamo imitazioni così perfette da difficilmente distinguerle dal pelo vero… costano certamente meno, sono prive di sofferenza e se proprio è necessario a causa delle rigide temperature, riparano in modo ottimale dal freddo.
Rifiutarsi di generare sofferenza ad altre creature, è una questione personale, questo è ovvio. Ma credo che chi sfoggia questo capo di vestiario, non è sensibile alla tematica e certamente poco incline a sentire ragioni.
In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, the notifications of bestiality perpetrated by humans against animals do not end.
Spain, which today complains of more than 230’000 covid-19 cases, does not yet have laws that can protect animals.
I share chilling images and videos that show the horror perpetrated against the hunting dogs “Galgos”…
Another reason why hunting should be abolished, but also any other form of human exploitation of animals!
…ooOoo…
Nel bel mezzo della pandemia da coronavirus, non finiscono le notifiche di bestialità perpetrate da umani nei confronti di animali.
La Spagna, che lamenta in data odierna più di 230.000 casi covid-19, non dispone ancora di leggi che possano tutelare gli animali.
Condivido immagini e filmati aghiaccianti che mostrano l’orrore perpetrato contro dei cani da caccia “Galgos”…
Altra ragione per la quale bisognerebbe abolire la caccia, ma anche ogni altra forma di sfruttamento degli animali da parte di umani!
Watch this video and share as much as possible… the world needs to know that this is still happening. Abuse and killing of galgos must stop !! Spain is one of the few countries where it is legal to hunt with greyhounds. At the end of the hunting season, many dogs are eliminated or […]
Our ancestors had descended from the trees to live at ground level, where they moved like semi-quadrupeds, preparing the way for the vertical position with support on two feet. The vertical alignment of the body on two feet involves a continuous alternation of contraction and relaxation movements of the leg muscles, in order to maintain balance. A forward displacement with respect to the support base began the gait that is the action of moving one foot after the other to walk.
Walking is a meditation not only when we experience it as a form, but also every time we walk in daily life. If we want we can perceive every change and nuance of an activity that we mostly do without any attention. To walk is to leave the ground with one foot and hold the anchor with the other. Walking we take turns between earth and sky.
Walking through predetermined paths is an ancient practice in sacred traditions around the world.We think of pilgrimages: from Santiago de Compostela, to Mecca, to the sacred mountain of Kailash… These predetermined paths can have destinations like in the pilgrimage or they can be within a delimited space, such as in the cloister of aconvent.Walking on these paths is a finalized going, dedicating a part of one’s lifetime, to connect to the sacred.It is a walk towards yourself. This week we experience a conscious walk.
Proposal of workout: “Walking consciously”
Choose your path you want to take. It is a walk to be done alone. It’s about walking towards yourself. You are the destination.
• In conscious walking we feel what happens in every moment, we feel our body standing, we feel the movement, its richness, its complexity.
• The pace, the rhythm, the speed must be accorded to the quality of the body and heart present in the moment, to their needs.
• Sometimes, slowness helps to counteract the mind that runs too much, to invite it to pause, to tune it with the present moment. At other times, the slow pace can become hypnotic, a lullaby that creates automatism, and the pace must be awakened, refreshed with audacity, accelerating or instead slowing down to the maximum and remaining connected with the most subtle sensations.
• Do not look for meaning, just touch the ground with one foot, lift the other foot off the ground, take turns without getting busy. Being intimate with the earth and with the air, with the dance of the step, with the pace.
• And if thoughts ride us if they prevent us from being present, it remains anchored to the step and returns to the humility of the foot that feels the earth, that feels the detachment from the ground.
N.B.text reworked by Silvana Marzari instructor of Rio Abierto, freely taken from the beautiful book: “Silence is a living thing” by the writer and poet Chandra Livia Candiani.
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I nostri antenati erano scesi dagli alberi per vivere al livello del suolo, dove si muovevano come semiquadrupede, preparando la via alla posizione verticale con appoggio su due piedi. L’allineamento del corpo in verticale su due piedi comporta un continuo alternarsi di movimenti di contrazione e di rilassamento dei muscoli delle gambe, allo scopo di mantenere l’equilibrio. Un sottile spostamento in avanti rispetto alla base di appoggio diede inizio alla deambulazione, overo l’azione di spostare un piede dopo l’altro, al camminare.
Camminare è una meditazione non solo quando lo sperimentiamo come forma, ma anche ogni volta che camminiamo nella vita quotidiana. Se vogliamo possiamo percepire ogni cambiamento e sfumatura di un’attività che per lo più facciamo senza alcuna attenzione. Camminare è lasciare con un piede la terra e con l’altro tenere l’ancora. Camminando ci avvicendiamo tra terra e cielo.
Camminare attraverso sentieri prefissati è una pratica antica nelle tradizioni sacre di tutto il mondo. Pensiamo ai pellegrinaggi: di Santiago di Compostela, alla Mecca, alla montagna sacra del Kailash… Questi sentieri prefissati possono avere delle mete come nel pellegrinaggio o possono essere all’interno di uno spazio delimitato, come per esempio nel chiostro di un convento. Camminare su questi sentieri è un andare finalizzato, dedicando una parte di tempo della propria vita, per connettersi al sacro. È un camminare verso se stessi.
Questa settimana sperimentiamo una camminata consapevole.
Proposta di lavoro: “Camminare consapevole”
Scegli il tuo percorso che vuoi intraprendere. È una passeggiata da fare in solitudine. Si tratta di camminare verso se stessi. La destinazione sei tu.
• Nella camminata consapevole sentiamo cosa accade in ogni istante, sentiamo il nostro corpo in piedi, sentiamo il movimento, la sua ricchezza, la sua complessità.
• L’andatura, il ritmo, la velocità vanno accordate alla qualità del corpo e del cuore presenti nel momento, ai loro bisogni.
• Certe volte, la lentezza aiuta a contrastare la mente che corre troppo, a invitarla a fare pausa, a intonarla con il momento presente.
• Altre volte, il passo lento può diventare ipnotico, una ninna-nanna che crea automatismo, e il passo va risvegliato, rinfrescato con audacia, accelerando o invece rallentando al massimo e restando connessi con le più sottili sensazioni.
• Non cercare un senso, solo toccare terra con un piede, sollevare da terra l’altro piede, avvicendarsi senza affaccendarsi. Essere intimi con la terra e con l’aria, con la danza del passo, con l’andatura.
• E se i pensieri ci cavalcano, se ci impediscono di essere presenti, resta ancorata al passo e torna all’umiltà del piede che sente la terra, che sente lo stacco da essa.
N.B. testo rielaborato da Silvana Marzari istruttrice di Rio Abierto, liberamente tratto dal bellissimo libro: “Il silenzio è cosa viva” della scrittrice e poetessa Chandra Livia Candiani.
[version française en bas de la page] [Deutsche Übersetzung unten]
Ringraziamo il Governo e tutti gli organi preposti coinvolti per il l’impegno ed il lavoro svolto fino ad oggi e fin dall’inizio dell’evento epocale che stiamo vivendo. Le decisioni prese richiedono molto lavoro, riflessione, un’enorme responsabilità e talvolta sangue freddo. Apprezziamo in particolare che il Governo Ticinese abbia lottato ripetutamente per ottenere maggiore spazio di manovra rispetto alle direttive del Consiglio Federale, considerando la situazione diversa del nostro cantone, vista la vicinanza con la Lombardia e l’enorme traffico trans-frontaliero.
Per aiutare la nostra economia il Governo ha stanziato importi molto importanti in poco tempo, rassicurando e includendo infine anche i liberi professionisti, inizialmente dimenticati nella distribuzione dei contributi e di questo siamo profondamente riconoscenti.
Molti di noi si sono attivati immediatamente per dare un sostegno alla popolazione sotto shock e al personale sanitario sottoposto ad estreme pressioni al fronte. La salute psico-fisica di ognuno di noi è fondamentale per rialzarsi dopo la caduta per un’economia sana e funzionante per tutti. È cosa nota che, per funzionare bene, corpo e mente hanno bisogno di “ecosistemi” interni ed esterni sani ed equilibrati.
In tanti abbiamo potuto constatare in questo periodo svariate reazioni della Natura al fermo della popolazione. In primis, e molto velocemente, la qualità dell’aria è migliorata e i cieli sono tornati azzurri e tersi in Ticino e in Lombardia, tanto quanto a Wuhan e in molte regioni estremamente inquinate della Cina e del resto del mondo.
Ma non solo i nostri polmoni respirano meglio! Anche l’anima riprende a respirare mentre la Natura si sta risvegliando grazie alla calma, all’aria pulita ed al silenzio: gli animali escono dal bosco, le acque e l’ambiente sono più puliti, alcuni fiori si possono osservare anche lungo le strade (solitamente vengono tagliati subito) e, last but not least, la popolazione degli insetti, e in primis delle api, é in aumento! Anche dall’estero ci raggiungono notizie simili.
In molti ci siamo preoccupati sempre di più negli ultimi anni dei numerosi danni causati all’ecosistema a causa del nostro modo di vivere, a partire dall’allarmante riduzione progressiva della popolazione delle api, fondamentale per la produzione di cibo per la popolazione mondiale. In molti abbiamo introdotto piccoli cambiamenti nelle nostre vite per la salvaguardia dell’ecosistema, rendendoci conto di quanto la sopravvivenza dell’umanità ne sia inscindibilmente connessa e anzi dipendente!
Siamo convinti che gli eventi naturali durante il lock down ci dimostrano che non siamo totalmente impotenti, che possiamo cambiare le condizioni della nostra Terra, che possiamo ancora invertire la rotta ma che dobbiamo farlo subito, ADESSO! se non vogliamo subire eventi ancora peggiori dell’attuale.
Ma per fare ciò crediamo che occorra riorientarci, focalizzarci anche sul vero valore delle cose al di là del loro puro valore monetario, sui valori umani e sul valore del singolo. Oggi come oggi, trovandoci ancora prima dell’emergenza economica già in un emergenza climatica, tale presa di coscienza, il riorientamento dei valori ed il potenziamento della protezione della natura deve partire dai Governi.
Proprio ORA, nella fase 2 dell’era Covid-19, è il momento per il Governo Ticinese e Svizzero di includere e valorizzare la salvaguardia della natura, considerandola ed includendola in ogni passo di rientro alla normalità e di riavvio dell’economia del Paese.
Chiediamo quindi al Governo Federale, ai Governi Cantonali ed ai singoli Municipi di:
implementare misure e passi concreti importanti e immediati per la salvaguardia della Natura, e rilasciare un messaggio chiaro e ripetuto tanto all’economia quanto alla popolazione sull’importanza di tale proposito, istituendo una Commissione addetta sia a livello Federale che a livello dei singoli Cantoni e collaborando con specialisti dei campi coinvolti;
favorire e incentivare con atti concreti il telelavoro dove possibile, onde ridurre anche in futuro il traffico per limitare l’inquinamento atmosferico e fonico;
congelare in modo irrevocabile e per un tempo minimo di tre anni la costruzione di antenne e l’implementazione della frequenza 5G, onde permettere lo svolgersi di studi approfonditi a lungo termine sull’effetto di tali frequenze sull’ecosistema e sulla salute;
liberare risorse per i cambiamenti pressanti per il riavvio dell’economia e contemporaneamente tutelare l’ambiente naturale;
incentivare e favorire la messa a disposizione di spazi per orti comunali e sociali a disposizione della popolazione e di associazioni, in modo da incentivare la formazione scolastica e della popolazione riguardo la coltivazione di cibo, da sostenere famiglie e mercati locali, nonché incoraggiare il movimento all’aperto e il contatto con la natura a favore della salute fisica e psichica. È cosa nota che queste misure potrebbero fornire un sano e necessario equilibrio psico-fisico, sopratutto per chi è attivo nel campo del telelavoro, ristabilendo un sano e responsabile contatto con la natura.
Se sei d’accordo con le nostre considerazioni e le nostre richieste ti chiediamo di firmare questapetizione. Più saremo a firmarla e più forte la nostra voce si farà sentire! Grazie fin d’ora!
…oOo…
[Deutsche Übersetzung] “Wir fragen um eine nachhaltige Phase 2!”
Wir danken der Regierung und allen beteiligten Stellen für das Engagement und die bisher geleistete Arbeit.
Seit Beginn des epochalen Ereignisses, welches wir aktuell erfahren. Die nötigen Entscheidungen erfordern sehr viel Arbeit, Reflexion, eine riesige Verantwortung und manchmal Kaltblütigkeit. Besonders schätzen wir, dass die Tessiner Regierung wiederholt darum kämpfte, mehr Handlungsspielraum gegenüber den Richtlinien des Bundesrates zu erhalten, angesichts der unterschiedlichen Lage unseres Kantons aufgrund der Nähe zur Lombardei und des enormen Grenzverkehrs.
Um unserer Wirtschaft zu helfen, hat die Regierung in kurzer Zeit sehr hohe Beträge bereitgestellt, was für die Bevölkerung beruhigend war und schließlich auch die Freiberufler einbezog, welche bei der Verteilung der Beiträge zunächst vergessen wurden. Dafür sind wir zutiefst dankbar.
Viele von uns haben umgehend private Maßnahmen ergriffen, um die traumatisierte Bevölkerung sowie das Sanitär-Personal zu unterstützen. Die psycho-physische Gesundheit eines jeden von uns ist von grundlegender Bedeutung um uns als Volk nach dem Schock wieder erheben zu können um gemeinsamen an eine gesunde und funktionierende Wirtschaft für alle beisteuern zu können. Es ist bekannt, dass Körper und Geist, um gut zu funktionieren, gesunde und ausgewogene interne und externe “Ökosysteme” benötigen.
Viele von uns konnten in dieser Zeit verschiedene Reaktionen der Natur beobachten, welche auf den Lock-down zurück zu führen sind. Erstens hat sich die Luftqualität sehr schnell verbessert und der Himmel ist blau und klar geworden, sei dies im Tessin und in der Lombardei, wie auch in Wuhan und in vielen extrem verschmutzten Regionen Chinas und der ganzen Welt.
Aber nicht nur unsere Lungen atmen besser! Sogar die Seele atmet auf, während die Natur sich erholt dank der Ruhe, sauberer Luft und Stille: Die Tiere kommen aus dem Wald, Wasser und Umwelt sind sauberer, blühende Blumen können auch entlang der Straßen beobachtet werden (welche normalerweise sofort geschnitten werden) und nicht zuletzt nimmt die Zahl der Bienen und anderer Insekten zu! Ähnliche Nachrichten erreichen uns auch aus dem Ausland.
Viele haben sich in den letzten Jahren immer mehr Sorgen über die zahlreichen Schäden gemacht, die dem Ökosystem auf grundunserer Lebensweise zugefügt wurden. Besonders alarmierend war die fortschreitende Verringerung der Bienenpopulation, welche grundlegend ist für die Produktion von Lebensmitteln für die Weltbevölkerung. Viele von uns haben kleinere und grösserVeränderungen in unserem Privatleben vorgenommen zum Schutz des Ökosystems. Immer mehr Menschen erkennen die untrennbare Verbindung, ja sogar Abhängigkeit der Menschheit vom Ökosystem.
Wir sind davon überzeugt, dass die erwähnten Naturereignisse während der Sperrung uns zeigen, dass wir nicht hilflos sind, sondern dass wir den Zustand unserer Erde verbessern können, und den Kurs umkehren können, sofern dies wir es jetzt tun müssen, SOFORT! wenn wir keine noch schlimmeren Ereignisse als die gegenwärtigen erleiden wollen.
Aber um dies zu tun, müssen wir uns neu orientieren und uns auch auf den wahren Wert der Dinge konzentrieren, die über ihren reinen Geldwert hinausgehen, auf die menschlichen Werte und auf den Wert des Individuums. Unter Inbetrachtziehung der Tatsache, dass wir uns bereits vor dem wirschaftlichen Notstand in einem klimatischen Notfall befanden ist es unumgänglich, dass dieses neue Bewusstwein, die Neuorientierung von Werten und die Verbesserung des Naturschutzes von der Regierung ausgehen muss.
Gerade jetzt, in der Phase 2 der Covid-19-Ära, ist es dringend, dass das Tessin und die Schweizer Regierung den Naturschutz bei jedem Schritt zur Rückkehr zur Normalität und des Neustarts der Wirtschaft prioritär berücksichtigen.
Wir fordern daher die Bundesregierung, die kantonalen Regierungen und die einzelnen Gemeinden zu folgenden Schritten auf:
sofortige Einführung bedeutender und sofortiger konkreter Maßnahmen und Schritte für den Naturschutz, sowie eine klare und wiederholte diesbezügliche Botschaft sowohl an die Wirtschaft als auch an die Bevölkerung über die Bedeutung dieser Schritte, und die Einberufung einer Kommission sowohl auf Bundes- als auch auf kantonaler Ebene, welche sich auf die Zusammenarbeit mit Spezialisten aus den beteiligten Bereichen abstützt;
Förderung und Unterstützung der Telearbeit nach Möglichkeit mit konkreten Maßnahmen, um das Verkehrsaufkommen zu reduzieren und die Luft- und Lärmbelastung zu begrenzen und zu reduzieren;
unwiederrufliche Einfrierung des Antennenbaus und der Implementierung der 5G-Frequenz für mindestens drei Jahre, um eingehende Langzeitstudien bezüglich der Auswirkungen dieser Frequenzen auf das Ökosystem und die Gesundheit zu ermöglichen;
Freisetzung von Mitteln für dringende Änderungen, um einen umweltfreundlichen Neustart der Wirtschaft zu ermöglichen;
Bereitstellung von Geländen zur Nutzung als kommunale und soziale Gärten zuhanden der Bevölkerung, der Verbände, und der Schulen, um die Bildung der Bevölkerung im Bezug auf den Anbau von Nahrungsmitteln zu fördern, lokale Familien und Märkte zu unterstützen, die Bewegung im Freien zu fördern, den Kontakt mit der Natur für die körperliche und geistige Gesundheit zu fördern. Es ist bekannt, dass diese Maßnahmen ein gesundes und notwendiges psycho-physisches Gleichgewicht schaffen, insbesondere für diejenigen, die in der Telearbeit tätig sind, sowie zur Wiederherstellung eines gesunden und verantwortungsvollen Kontakts mit der Natur.
Wenn Sie unseren Überlegungen und Anfragen zustimmen, bitten wir Sie, die Petition zu unterschreiben. Je mehr von uns unterschreiben, desto stärker wird unsere Stimme gehört! Vorab besten Dank für eure Unterstützung,
…oOo…
[version française] “Nous demandons une Phase 2 écologiquement responsable!”
Nous remercions le Gouvernement et tous les organes impliqués pour l’engagement et le travail accomplis jusqu’à présent depuis le début de l’événement historique que nous vivons. Les décisions prises demandent beaucoup de travail, de réflexion, une énorme responsabilité et parfois du sang-froid. Nous apprécions particulièrement que le Gouvernement Tessinois ait lutté à plusieurs reprises pour obtenir par le Conseil Fédéral un plus ample marge de manœuvre, compte tenu de la différente situation de notre canton due à la proximité avec la Lombardie et à l’énorme circulation transfrontalière.
Pour aider notre économie, le gouvernement a alloué des sommes très importantes en peu de temps, rassurant et enfin inclure les pigistes, initialement oubliés dans la répartition des contributions, et nous en sommes profondément reconnaissants.
Beaucoup d’entre nous ont pris des mesures immédiates pour soutenir la population choquée et le personnel sanitaire soumis à une pression extrême. La santé psycho-physique de chacun de nous est fondamentale pour se lever après la chute, pour une économie saine et fonctionnelle pour tous. On sait que pour bien fonctionner le corps et l’esprit ont besoin d’”écosystèmes” internes et externes sains et équilibrés.
On a tous pu observer au cours de cette période les différentes réactions de la Nature au lock-down. D’abord, et celà très rapidement, la qualité de l’air s’est nettement améliorée et le ciel est devenu bleu soit au Tessin qu’en Lombardie, autant qu’à Wuhan et dans de nombreuses régions de Chine et du reste du monde extrêmement polluées.
Mais non seulement nos poumons respirent mieux! Même l’âme reprend son souffle pendant que la Nature se réveille dans le silence, le calme et l’air pur: les animaux sortent des bois, les eaux et l’environnement sont plus propres, certaines fleurs peuvent également être observées tout au long des routes (généralement elles sont éliminées immédiatement) et enfin la population d’insectes, et surtout d’abeilles, est en train d’augmenter! Des nouvelles similaires nous parviennent aussi de l’étranger. Beaucoup entre nous se sont inquiétés de plus en plus ces dernières années à cause des nombreux dommages à l’écosystème par conséquent de notre mode de vie, à partir de la diminution progressive alarmante de la population d’abeilles, fondamentale pour la production d’aliments destinés à la population mondiale. Beaucoup entre nous ont introduit de petits changements dans leurs vies pour incentiver la protection de l’écosystème, en réalisant combien il la survie de l’hêtre humain en soit inévitablement connectée, voir dépendante!
Nous sommes convaincus que les événements naturels avérés pendant le lock-down nous montrent que nous ne sommes pas totalement impuissants, que nous pouvons changer les conditions de notre Terre, que nous pouvons encore inverser le cours de l’histoire, mais que nous devons le faire tout de suite, MAINTENANT! si nous ne voulons pas subir des événements encore plus catastrophiques.
Mais pour ce faire, nous croyons qu’il faudrait nous réorienter, nous concentrer plutôt sur la vraie valeur des choses au-delà des leurs pure rente monétaire, sur les valeurs humaines et sur la valeur de l’individu. Aujourd’hui, vu l’état d’urgence climatique dans lequel nous nous trouvions déjà avant l’état d’urgence Covid-19 qui vient de s’établir, une telle prise de conscience, une réorientation des valeurs et un renforcement de la protection de la Nature doit commencer par les Gouvernements.
Juste MAINTENANT, dans la phase 2 de l’ère Covid-19, il est temps pour les Gouvernement Tessinois et Suisse d’inclure et améliorer la protection de la Nature, en incluant son bien-être à chaque étape du retour à la normalité de nos vies et du redémarrage de l’économie du Pays.
Nous demandons donc au Gouvernement Fédéral, aux Gouvernements Cantonaux et aux Communes de:
mettre en œuvre des mesures concrètes importantes et immédiates pour la préservation de la Nature, et de transmettre un message clair et répété à l’économie et à la population sur l’importance à cet égard, en créant une Commission au niveau Fédéral et Cantonal individuel tout en collaborantavec des spécialistes des domaines concernés;
favoriser et encourager le télétravail avec des actions concrètes lorsque cela sera possible, afin de réduire l’augmentation de la circulation et limiter la pollution atmosphérique et sonore;
bloquer la construction d’antennes de manière irrévocable et pendant au moins trois ans et la mise en œuvre de la fréquence 5G, afin de permettre la réalisation d’études approfondies à long terme sur l’effet de ces fréquences sur l’écosystème et sur la santé;
libérer des ressources pour les changements urgents pour redémarrer l’économie et en même temps sauvegarder l’environnement naturel.
encourager et favoriser la mise à disposition d’espaces pour la création de jardins communaux et sociaux à disposition de la population et des associations, afin d’encourager l’éducation de nos enfants et de la population concernant la culture de la nourriture, de soutenir les familles et les marchés locaux, ainsi que d’encourager le mouvement à l’extérieur et le contact avec la Nature. On sait très bien que ces mesures pourraient fournir un équilibre psychophysique sain et nécessaire, en particulier pour ceux qui sont actifs sur le terrain du télétravail, en rétablissant une connexion saine et responsable avec la Nature.
Si vous êtes d’accord avec nos considérations et demandes, nous vous demandons de signer cette pétition. Plus nombreux nous serons à signer, plus fort on entendra notre voix! Merci dès maintenant.
I state that since always I have had a strong connection with Japan and when I read the title of this novel, obviously, I was immediately extremely intrigued.
I know several Japanese legends, learned during the various trips I made between Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. I must also admit that my daughter collects “manga” and “anime” and she has all the animēshon of Hayao Miyazaki, which are also my favorites.
The legend of the Kitsune no yomeiri (nine-tailed fox) is also known outside of Japan; great cleverness and intelligence are attributed to the Kitsune, as well as the ability to take human form to deceive people (in essence she is a shapeshifter).
Marcolongo’s novel recalls ideas from an ancient legend written by the monk Kyoukai between the 8th/9th century, but the author inserts other details with skill and strong suspense, a typical imprint of his particular writer’s style.
In the beautiful story, we find parallelism between an intense love story dating back to 1999 between Klaus and Amanda and that of 2009/2010 between Pietro and Elisa. While Pietro’s introspections sometimes distract us from the plot, making us understand even better the character of the protagonist.
Both stories are set in the same old hut isolated from the rest of the world, on the slopes of Mount Antelao in the Dolomites.
Following the common thread, I immersed myself in the immensity of the forest, stepping on the fragrant moss of wood and wet leaves: I was intrigued, very intrigued.
Behind every fir or larch, it seemed to me that I could see the Fox… but perhaps, the reddish flicker was only a shadow play at sunset when, like swords, the rays crossed the black foliage of the trees.
Marcolongo brings the reader back and forth in time by carrying out an in-depth analysis of the thoughts of Pietro, the main character. His lifestyle choices, disappointed expectations in the work field and uncertain expectations in the emotional field that despite his 35 years, had still kept him a virgin.
It all starts with a strange announcement that appeared in the Gazzettino di Belluno: “two thousand perches of wood on the slopes of Mount Antelao for sale …”
And Pietro’s life takes a definitive turn that will upset his every prognostic, every desirable idea of what is really good for him.
Only towards the end of the story, do the pieces start to fit together and the plot again takes on a clarifying reversal. But nothing in this novel is given to chance since it was Pietro’s destiny to meet the Kitsune and to receive the magical gift that, again, would have changed his life.
Premetto che da sempre nutro una forte connessione con il Giappone, quando ho letto il titolo di questo romanzo, evidentemente, sono subito stata estremamente incuriosita.
Conosco diverse leggende giapponesi, apprese durante i diversi viaggi che ho fatto tra Tokyo, Osaka, e Kyoto. Devo poi anche ammettere che mia figlia colleziona “manga” e “anime” e ha tutti gli animēshon di Hayao Miyazaki, che sono anche i miei favoriti.
La leggenda della Kitsune no yomeiri (Volpe a nove code) è conosciuta anche fuori dal Giappone; alla Kitsune si attribuisce grande furbizia e intelligenza, nonché la facoltà di prendere sembianze umane per ingannare le persone (in sostanza ella è una mutaforma).
Il romanzo di Marcolongo richiama spunti da un’antica leggenda scritta dal monaco Kyoukai tra il VIII / IX secolo, ma l’autore vi inserisce altri particolari con abilità ed un forte suspense, impronta tipica del suo stile.
Nel bel racconto, ritroviamo un parallelismo tra un’intensa storia d’amore risalente al 1999 tra Klaus e Amanda e quella del 2009/2010 tra Pietro ed Elisa. Mentre le introspezioni di Pietro, a volte, ci distolgono dalla trama facendoci però comprendere ancora meglio il carattere del protagonista.
Entrambe le storie sono ambientate nella stessa vecchia baita isolata dal resto del mondo, sulle pendici del monte Antelao nelle Dolomiti.
Seguendo il filo conduttore, mi sono immersa nell’immensità della foresta calpestando il muschio profumato di legno e foglie bagnate: ero incuriosita, molto incuriosita.
Dietro ogni abete o larice mi sembrava di scorgere la Volpe… ma forse, il guizzo rossastro, era solo un gioco d’ombre al calar del sole quando come spade i raggi attraversavano le nere chiome degli alberi.
Marcolongo riporta il lettore avanti ed indietro nel tempo effettuando un’analisi approfondita dei pensieri di Pietro, il personaggio principale. Le sue scelte di vita, le aspettative deluse nel campo lavorativo e quelle incerte dell’ambito affettivo che malgrado i suoi 35 anni, lo avevano mantenuto ancora vergine.
Tutto inizia da uno strano annuncio apparso su Gazzettino di Belluno: “vendesi duemila pertiche di bosco sulle pendici del monte Antelao…” E la vita di Pietro prende una svolta definitiva che sconvolgerà ogni suo prognostico, ogni sua auspicabile idea di ciò che è veramente buono per lui.
Solo verso il finale della storia, i tasselli iniziano ad incastrarsi e la trama assume nuovamente una ribaltamento chiarificatore. Ma nulla in questo romanzo è dato al caso poiché era destino di Pietro incontrare la Kitsune e di ricevere il magico regalo che, nuovamente, gli avrebbe modificato la vita
Una recensione molto approfondita, Marian ha compreso a fondo il messaggio racchiuso nel romanzo e fornisce dettagli accurati che però non rivelano il mistero della storia lasciando quindi al lettore il sentimento di curiosità e desiderio di approfondimento.
Il romanzo può essere acquistato direttamene dall’autrice, inserendo i dati nell’apposita scheda o lasciando un commento con indirizzo e-mail.
Pamamento di fr. 24.- inclusa spedizione per mezzo di Paypal, contatterò al vs. indirizzo di posta elettronica per fornire i dettagli.
SERENA PASQUA a tutti le lettrici e lettori… coraggio, presto questo periodo sarà solo un brutto ricordo!
Con Nebbie nella Brughiera (Seneca Edizioni, 2007) di Claudine Giovannoni viaggiamo nel tempo e nello spazio, prendendoci il senso di un meritato piacere, soprattutto in questo momento della nostra storia. Sorvoliamo oceani e mari, attraversiamo fiumi e terre immense, oltrepassiamo facilmente i confini dei Paesi.
Condivido alcune considerazioni sulla scrittura di Claudine che forse potrebbero risultare utili a chi abbia voglia di avvicinarsi a lei dal punto di vista letterario e leggere i suoi lavori, e che certamente aiutano me a racchiudere quello che ho appreso da lei attraverso le varie letture, al di là del rapporto umano e di amicizia che esiste fra noi.
D’altronde noi lettori ci ritroviamo spesso a valutare, a consigliare questo o quell’altro scrittore e scrittrice, più o meno conosciuto/a, costruendo reti di scambi di opinioni ed interpretazioni.
In primo luogo, consiglierei di lasciare da parte l’aspettativa di un finale risolutivo e chiuso, poiché credo…
I would like to share with you this 6 min. video, with some very strong images, which will make you seriously think of “speciesism” as a degenerative disease in the human being.
Being a vegetarian or vegan, we’re more sensitive to this topic, but it shall be our mission to spread the words and explain to others how they can change… for the whole beauty of Planet Earth.
I’m convinced that this quarantine, this total shutdown, will make us think a lot. Many of us have lost a relative, a friend, a person with whom we shared emotions.
We are powerless regarding the virulence of SARS-CoV-2, it strips us of all certainty, leaves us naked and vulnerable with nothing to use to avoid possible infection. Sure going around with a mask can help not to propagate to others (if you are infected), but it does not block the virus that can creep through the respiratory tract in your body.
The virus does not look at the color of your skin, young or old, if you are a believer or atheist, if you are a man or a woman, it does not look at what your sexual preferences are…
Then if you start to meditate, you try to channel the energy inside you, you realize that he, the virus, has changed us drastically… our habits are somehow frozen, and the planet has shown us the positive effect. Above many metropolises, the sky is blue again, the dolphins have returned to the Gulf of Venice and transparent water flows through its canals… with the absence of anthropic disturbances the animals take back the spaces we stole from them. This means that it would take very little, for a rapprochement… to save the ecology.
Think about it. And when this horrible time is over, try to keep in mind that you must change your habits, for the sake of the Planet, our only home!
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Vorrei condividere con voi questo 6 min. video, con alcune immagini molto forti, che ti faranno pensare seriamente allo “specismo” come una malattia degenerativa nell’essere umano.
Essendo vegetariano o vegano, siamo più sensibili a questo argomento, ma è la nostra missione diffondere le parole e spiegare agli altri come possono cambiare… per l’intera bellezza del Pianeta Terra.
Sono convinta che questa quarantena, questo arresto totale, ci farà riflettere molto. Molti di noi hanno perso un parente, un amico, una persona con cui abbiamo condiviso delle emozioni.
Siamo impotenti riguardo alla virulenza di SARS-CoV-2, ci spoglia di ogni certezza, ci lascia nudi e vulnerabili con nulla da utilizzare per evitare possibili contagi. Sicuramente andare in giro con una mascherina può aiutare a non propagarlo agli altri (se si è infetti), ma non blocca il virus che può insinuarsi attraverso il tratto respiratorio nel proprio corpo.
Il virus non guarda il colore della tua pelle, se sei giovane o anziano, se sei un credente o ateo, se sei un uomo o una donna, non guarda quali sono le tue preferenze sessuali…
Quindi se inizi a meditare, provi a canalizzare l’Energia dentro di te, ti rendi conto che lui, il virus, ci ha cambiato drasticamente… le nostre abitudini sono in qualche modo congelate e il pianeta ci ha mostrato l’effetto positivo. Sopra molte metropoli, il cielo è di nuovo blu, i delfini sono tornati nel Golfo di Venezia e l’acqua trasparente scorre attraverso i suoi canali… con l’assenza di disturbi antropici gli animali si riappropriano degli spazi che noi abbiamo rubato loro. Ciò significa che ci vorrebbe pochissimo, per un riavvicinamento… per salvare l’ecologia.
Pensaci. E quando questo momento orribile è finito, cerca di tenere a mente che devi cambiare le tue abitudini, per il bene del Pianeta, la nostra unica casa!
Unfortunately, Covid-19 is only the beginning … this video explains what will happen in the next decades!
Purtroppo Covid-19 è solo l’inizio… questo filmato ci spiega cosa potrà avvenire nelle prossime decadi!
.Purtroppo Covid-19 è solo l’inizio… questo filmato ci spiega cosa potrà avvenire nelle prossime decadi!
Just a few months ago, we had never heard of SARS-CoV-2, no one imagined its existence. Today, the whole world fears it and we know that there are half a million people infected, and perhaps as many do not even know they are positive for the Covid-19 virus. The number is constantly rising, hour after hour.
The hospitals are full of people who need treatment, many are intubated in the intensive care wards, hundreds and hundreds of deaths are reported every day. The pandemic has been declared by the World Health Organization days ago. We live in an epochal moment, in terror.
We have all read apocalyptic novels, seen dystopian films that talked about viruses of all kinds and the consequences they inflicted on our planet. Sure. Did we think that everything could only be the result of the imagination of writers or screenwriters?
Well, I put my own too, in the latest novel The Secret of the Annwyn… but it all happened two years in advance: the annihilation of the world population in my imagination should have happened in 2022.
The feeling of anger mixed with impotence, have accompanied me for days now. I didn’t want to write it down, actually.
I read the bulletins issued by the Swiss Federal Council, I inquire about what is happening in the rest of the world and with marked amazement I see that the ignorance and arrogance of certain governments (as well as the people) does not seem to want to realize the gravity of the situation.
Then there are some unfortunate people here in our little canton of Ticino who give a damn about recommendations and find themselves drinking beer in the park with their group of friends, it is foreseeable.
The world is full of unconscious people who selfishly think only of themselves.
Right now, the pandemic is global; we have those with quite a bit of delay have put in place the appropriate measures, others who still hesitate, those which have used the “iron fist”… but unfortunately, there will always be some moron who will become infected, infect his family, friends, in short, those who do not keep the “social distancing” or those who do not scrupulously follow the recommendations.
Would it take the application of martial law? In a country where so much proclaimed democracy (mine, for instance) has also generated disagreements since a canton (at random, bordering on Lombardy – a red zone with mortality higher than the whole of Wuhan-) has done its own thing without waiting for federal approval.
But how is it possible that after all the tests, various simulations carried out in research laboratories, a unique and defined (global) protocol has not been put in place to curb the spread of the virus in question?
Wasn’t it the best thing to do, in order to contain the pathogen, carry out carpet tests to identify the infected people, their contacts, and then isolate everyone and avoid spreading?
These are situations tested and exercised in different countries (see GB with a BBC video of a few years ago)… but in the moment of real need, they are not applied in a generalized way.
But I don’t know about these things, it’s scientific material and I’m a normal citizen without studies in this field.
However, what I live in my own small way is the fear that there may be people who die here as well since there are not enough intensive care units available. If the severity of the side effects of this Covid-19 brings complications to the lungs, many people will have to be “intubated” in order to survive. However, the appropriate clinical types of equipment are few and if there will be an increase in serious cases, they will not be enough for everyone. Covid-19 does not spare young people and perhaps it is spreading more precisely through them?
The doctors raised the alarm, asking the population to “stay home” – “isolated” – “keep their distance from each other”.
How many of us are really doing this? Is there still some inept who wants to put the lives of other fellow citizens at stake? I hope not. I sincerely hope so. But what I see, lets me suppose otherwise.
The situation is so serious that second-year medical students have also been called into question: and my son is one of them. He will be working at the EOC Covid-19 Center in Locarno.
These young people are prematurely employed to help save lives by putting their lives at risk. They do it for very strong ethical reasons: they are to be admired.
We must make sure that THE WHOLE MEDICAL BODY does not have to be confronted with extreme situations… to have to opt for the choices of who to let live if there are no longer enough intensive care stations.
We help the whole medical body BY STAYING HOME, MAINTAINING SOCIAL DISTANCE, APPLYING ALL THESE SAFETY PRECAUTIONS. We must now stand in solidarity, this is our battle and only together, with respect for everyone, will we be able to win it.
Solo pochi mesi or sono, non avevamo mai sentito parlare di SARS-CoV-2, nessuno s’immaginava la sua esistenza. Oggi, tutto il mondo lo teme e sappiamo che c’è mezzo milione di persone infettate, e forse altrettante neppure sanno di essere positive al virus Covid-19. Il numero sale costantemente, ora dopo ora.
Gli ospedali sono pieni di persone che necessitano cure, molte sono intubate nei reparti di cure intense, ogni giorno si contano centinaia e centinaia di morti. È stata dichiarata la pandemia dall’Organizzazione mondiale della salute. Viviamo in un momento epocale, nel terrore.
Abbiamo tutti letto romanzi apocalittici, visto film distopici che parlavano di virus di ogni tipo e delle conseguenze che infliggevano al nostro pianeta. Certo. Pensavamo forse che tutto potesse unicamente essere frutto della fantasia di scrittori o sceneggiatori?
Beh, anch’io ci ho messo del mio: nell’ultimo romanzo Il Segreto degli Annwyn… ma il tutto è accaduto con due anni d’anticipo: l’annientamento della popolazione mondiale nella mia fantasia avrebbe dovuto accadere nel 2022.
Il sentimento di rabbia frammisto a impotenza, mi accompagnano ormai da giorni.
Leggo i bollettini rilasciati dal Consiglio Federale Svizzero, mi informo di ciò che accade nel resto del mondo e con marcato stupore vedo che l’ignoranza e supponenza di certi governi (nonché del popolo), non sembra voler realizzare la gravità della situazione.
Che poi ci siano anche qui nel nostro piccolo canton Ticino qualche disgraziato che se ne frega delle raccomandazioni e si trova col gruppo d’amici a bersi la birra nel parchetto, è prevedibile.
Di incoscienti che egoisticamente pensano unicamente a sé stessi, ne è pieno il mondo.
In questo momento, la pandemia è globale; chi con un bel po’ di ritardo ha messo in atto le misure opportune, chi ancora tentenna, chi ha utilizzato il “pugno di ferro”… ma purtroppo ci sarà sempre qualche deficiente che si infetterà, infetterà i propri famigliari, gli amici, tutti quelli che insomma non tengono le “distanze sociali” (social distancing) o che non seguono con scrupolo le raccomandazioni.
Ci vorrebbe forse l’applicazione della Legge marziale? In un paese dove la democrazia così tanto proclamata ha pure generato disaccordi dacché un cantone (a caso, confinante con la Lombardia – zona rossa con mortalità superiore all’intera Cina-) ha fatto di testa sua senza attendere il benestare federale.
Ma com’è possibile che dopo tutti i test, simulazioni varie effettuate in laboratori di ricerca, non si abbia messo in atto un protocollo univoco e definito (globale) per frenare la diffusione del virus in questione?
Non era forse la cosa migliore da farsi, nella finalità di contenere l’agente patogeno, effettuare dei test a tappeto per individuare le persone infette, i loro contatti, per poi isolare tutti ed evitare la diffusione?
Queste sono situazioni testate ed esercitate in diverse nazioni (vedi GB con un filmato della BBC)… ma nel momento della reale necessità, non vengono applicate in modo generalizzato.
Ma non me ne intendo di queste cose, è materiale scientifico e io sono una normale cittadina senza studi in questo campo.
Ciò che però vivo nel mio piccolo, è la paura vi possano essere in futuro anche qui da noi persone che muoiono poiché non vi sono sufficienti disponibilità di unità di cure intense. Se la gravità degli effetti collaterali di questo Covid-19 porta complicazioni ai polmoni, molte persone dovranno essere “intubate” per poter sopravvivere. Le postazioni cliniche sono però poche e se vi sarà un aumento di casi gravi, non saranno sufficienti per tutti. Covid-19 non risparmia i giovani e forse, si sta diffondendo maggiormente proprio attraverso di loro?
I medici hanno dato l’allarme, pregando la popolazione di “restare a casa” – “isolati” – “mantenere le distanze gli uni dagli altri”.
Quanti di noi lo stanno veramente facendo? C’è ancora qualche inetto che vuole mettere in gioco la vita di altri suoi concittadini? Spero di no. Lo spero di vero cuore. Ma ciò che vedo, mi lascia supporre il contrario.
La situazione è così grave che anche gli studenti di medicina al secondo anno sono stati chiamati in causa: e mio figlio è uno di loro. Sarà impegnato presso il Centro Covid-19 dell’EOC a Locarno. Lo fanno per ragioni etiche molto forti: sono da ammirare.
Questi giovani, prematuramente sono impiegati per dare una mano a salvare delle vite umane, mettendo le loro a rischio.
Facciamo in modo che TUTTO IL CORPO MEDICO non abbia ad essere confrontato con situazioni estreme… di dover optare per delle scelte di chi lasciar vivere qualora non ci saranno più sufficienti postazioni di cure intense.
Aiutiamo tutto il corpo medico RESTANDO A CASA, MANTENENDO LA DISTANZA SOCIALE, APPLICANDO TUTTE LE DISPOSIZIONI DI SICUREZZA. Dobbiamo ora essere solidali, questa è la nostra battaglia e solo insieme, con rispetto verso tutti, riusciremo a vincerla.
Over the centuries, in different cultures, the wolf has taken on opposite meanings. Revered as a divinity or insulted as a devil, he often paid for his crimes with his life.
During the Middle Ages in Europe, myth and superstition assumed significant importance. For example, we believed in werewolves. Religion exploited this fearful image and during the Inquisition, it was used as a metaphor to maintain control with coercion, which had lasted for centuries.
When European settlers arrived in America, they brought this dark wolf with them into their imagination.
In contrast, the natives of North America admired and emulated the wolf. Native Americans respected his hunting skills and honored him because he provided food for the community. For some, he was seen as a wise, powerful, or instinctive hunter. In fact, a teacher of tactics that humans could emulate in buffalo or caribou hunting.
The wolf has been wiped out across much of Europe in the past four centuries. Thanks to the “bounty hunt”, those who killed a wolf were rewarded with money. Between 1850 and 1900 more than a million wolves were exterminated and in 1907 the call for the total extinction of the species was launched. It is known that one of the most used practices was that of poisoning.
Herds of wolves have survived in mountainous Spain, France, Italy, and wooded Finland. In Asia, a number remain in remote corners of the Middle East and in the Russian and Mongolian steppes.
A wolf is neither good nor bad, yet it seems that the negative myth has survived, and this although many currently understand the true nature of the wolf.
Today the wolf is returning to Europe, but as its population grows, conflicts with humans are also growing. The debate over wolf control is very emotional. Some want the wolf to be eliminated, while others think that wolves should never be killed.
Breeders fear that wolves will eat their livestock. Today in Switzerland, in areas where wolves come into conflict with farmers, it is already possible to kill “problematic” ones with government authorization. In the United States, but also in Europe, today there is a strong anti-wolf lobby, where some judges and political leaders are lobbying for this lobby.
In the United States and Canada, wolves are substantially protected, but in other countries such as Russia and parts of Eastern Europe wolves are wildly annihilated. More and more wolves come into conflict with men, in the poor rural areas of Russia, for example, hunting for deer and other wild animals have increased causing competition between man and wolf. With less game to hunt, wolves look for other food sources such as sheep and domestic cattle.
Modern reindeer farming is also in conflict. As a result, wolf populations are sparse in some regions in eastern Russia and Alaska. For example, in Chukotka, there has been an official wolf shooting policy from helicopters to protect reindeer herds.
Local legends say that a balance was established between wolves and men, with wolves taking what they needed from the herds and that the Ciukci (Russian population in northeastern Siberia) hunted only single wolves that had become unpredictable killers.
Is it possible that these balances can be restored, not only in reindeer husbandry but in all human endeavors?
The anthropization of the territories has subtracted areas that previously belonged to the fauna, we have desertificated others, both for direct effect and with the devastating climate changes.
Human population growth, therefore, causes conflicts between wolves and humans since the number of wild areas in which wolves can live has drastically decreased. It is known that wolves need a lot of territories, far from humans, to live and grow their offspring.
An agreement would be desirable to provide protective solutions for farm animals. If the farmers used extensively preventive measures (fences where possible, control of the herds/flocks, dogs for the protection of the flocks, the presence of shepherds, etc.) the wolf and the man could coexist better.
The solution does not lie at the extremes of the wolf debate: although most breeders don’t hate wolves, when they kill their cattle they see no other solution. Nature’s defenders think wolves should never be killed for any reason. The fact is that when the man and the wolf come into conflict, it is usually the wolf that leaves its skin.
In our country Switzerland, the current hunting law already allows the “problematic wolves” to be shot down, consequently, the modification of this law (the national vote of 17 May 2020) would favor the killing with much fewer restrictions not only of the wolf but also of other animals protected. The risk of the wolf’s new extinction due to the conflict between animal and man, caused by the latter, is high.
This once cunning, revered and respected hunter, is now only seen as a parasite and a danger to livestock. We must find a balance with those who want to see the wolf controlled, their concerns must not be rejected, they must become part of the debate on the conservation of each species. Unfortunately, wolves still live in the imagination as shadows of evil, fueled by error and fiction.
When humans interfere in the life of wild animals, it becomes their responsibility to provide them with a healthy environment in which to live. This should be our legacy.
…oOo…
Nel corso dei secoli, nelle diverse culture, il lupo ha assunto significati opposti tra loro. Venerato come una divinità o insultato come un diavolo, esso ha spesso pagato con la sua vita i crimini che non aveva commesso.
Durante il Medioevo in Europa, il mito e la superstizione assunsero un’importanza rilevante. Ad esempio si credeva nei lupi mannari. La religione sfruttò questa paurosa immagine e durante l’Inquisizione, fu utilizzata quale metafora per mantenere il controllo con la coercizione perdurata per secoli.
Quando i coloni europei arrivarono in America, portarono con sé questo lupo oscuro nella loro immaginazione.
Al contrario, gli indigeni del Nord America ammiravano ed emulavano il lupo. I nativi americani rispettavano le sue capacità di caccia e lo onoravano perché forniva cibo per la comunità. Per alcuni era visto come un saggio, un potente o un cacciatore istintivo. In effetti un insegnante di tattiche che gli umani potevano emulare nella caccia ai bufali o caribù.
Il lupo è stato sterminato in gran parte dell’Europa negli ultimi quattro secoli. Grazie alla “caccia alle taglie”, chi uccideva un lupo era ricompensato con soldi. Tra il 1850 ed il 1900 più di un milione di lupi furono sterminati e nel 1907 fu varato il bando per l’estinzione totale della specie. È risaputo che una delle pratiche maggiormente utilizzate era quella dell’avvelenamento.
Branchi di lupi sono sopravvissuti nelle montagnose Spagna, Francia, Italia e nella boscosa Finlandia. In Asia un numero rimane in angoli remoti del Medio Oriente e nelle steppe russe e mongole.
Un lupo non è né buono né cattivo, eppure sembra che il Mito negativo sia sopravvissuto, e questo anche se attualmente molti comprendono la vera natura del lupo.
Oggigiorno il lupo sta tornando in Europa, ma con l’aumentare della sua popolazione, si ampliano anche i conflitti con gli umani. Il dibattito sul controllo del lupo è molto emotivo. Alcuni vogliono che il lupo sia eliminato, mentre altri pensano che i lupi non debbano mai essere uccisi.
Gli allevatori temono che i lupi mangino il loro bestiame. Oggi in Svizzera nelle aree in cui i lupi entrano in conflitto con gli allevatori, è già possibile l’uccisione di quelli “problematici” con l’autorizzazione da parte del governo. Negli Stati Uniti, ma anche in Europa, oggigiorno c’è una forte lobby anti-lupo, dove alcuni giudici e leader politici fanno pressione a favore di questa lobby.
Negli Stati Uniti e in Canada, i lupi sono sostanzialmente protetti, ma in altri paesi come la Russia e parte dell’Europa orientale i lupi sono selvaggiamente annientati. Sempre più i lupi entrano in conflitto con gli uomini, nelle povere aree rurali della Russia, ad esempio, la caccia al cervo e altri animali selvatici è aumentata causando competizione tra uomo e lupo. Con meno selvaggina da cacciare i lupi cercano altre fonti alimentari come gli ovini e bovini domestici.
Anche l’allevamento moderno di renne è in conflitto. Di conseguenza le popolazioni di lupi sono scarse in alcune regioni in Russia orientale e Alaska. Ad esempio a Chukotka si è assistito a una politica ufficiale di tiro ai lupi dagli elicotteri per proteggere le mandrie di renne.
Le leggende locali raccontano che tra lupi e uomini si stabilisse un equilibrio, con i lupi che prendevano ciò di cui avevano bisogno dalle mandrie e che i Ciukci (popolazione russa nella Siberia nord Orientale) cacciavano solo singoli lupi che erano diventati assassini imprevedibili.
È forse possibile che tali equilibri possano essere ristabiliti, non solo nell’allevamento delle renne ma in tutti gli sforzi umani?
L’antropizzazione dei territori ha sottratto aree che prima appartenevano alla fauna, ne abbiamo desertificate altre, sia per effetto diretto, sia con i devastanti cambiamenti climatici.
La crescita demografica umana causa perciò conflitti tra lupo e uomini poiché la quantità di aree selvagge in cui i lupi possono vivere è drasticamente diminuita. È risaputo che i lupi abbiano necessità di molto territorio, lontani dagli umani, per vivere e crescere la loro prole.
Sarebbe auspicabile un accordo affinché si provveda a trovare delle soluzioni protettive degli animali da allevamento. Se gli allevatori utilizzassero estensivamente misure preventive (recinzioni dove possibile, controllo delle mandrie/greggi, cani da protezione delle greggi, presenza di pastori ecc.) il lupo e l’uomo potrebbero convivere meglio.
La soluzione non sta agli estremi del dibattito sul lupo: anche se la maggior parte degli allevatori non odiano i lupi, quando questi uccidono il loro bestiame non vedono altra soluzione. I difensori della natura pensano che i lupi non debbano mai essere uccisi per nessun motivo. Fatto sta che quando l’uomo e il lupo entrano in conflitto, solitamente è il lupo a lasciarci la pelle.
L’attuale legge sulla caccia già permette che i “lupi problematici” siano abbattuti, di conseguenza la modifica di questa legge (la votazione nazionale del 17 maggio 2020) favorirebbe l’uccisione con molte meno restrizioni non solo del lupo ma anche di altri animali protetti. Il rischio di nuova estinzione del lupo a causa del conflitto tra animale e uomo, causato da quest’ultimo, è elevato.
Questo cacciatore un tempo astuto, riverito e rispettato è ora solo visto come un parassita e un pericolo per il bestiame. Dobbiamo ricercare un equilibrio con coloro che vogliono vedere il lupo controllato, le loro preoccupazioni non devono essere respinte, devono entrare a far parte del dibattito sulla conservazione di ogni specie. Purtroppo i lupi vivono ancora nell’immaginazione come ombre del male, alimentate dall’errore e dalla finzione.
Quando gli esseri umani interferiscono nella vita degli animali selvatici, diventa loro responsabilità di fornire loro un ambiente sano in cui vivere. Questo dovrebbe essere il nostro retaggio.
Condiviso! Diamo ora la massima importanza alla corretta informazione: tutti noi svizzeri siamo coscenti che la nostra bella patria Helvezia dispone di uno dei sistemi democratici più sviluppati al mondo… ma figura però tra i paesi in cui l’influsso dei gruppi d’interesse (Lobbies) sulla politica è meno regolamentato e controllato. Una realtà che getta non poche ombre sui legami tra mondo politico, ambienti economici e Associazioni di cattegoria (ad es. dei cacciatori?)
Di conseguenza, facciamo in modo che l’opinione pubblica sia cosciente di cosa significa “accettare” o “respingere” la modifica dell Legge sulla Caccia.
Il 27 gennaio c.a. è stata lanciata dalla Consigliera Federale Simonetta Sommaruga la campagna a favore della revisione della legge sulla caccia che, grazie alle firme per il referendum raccolte, sarà in votazione il prossimo 17 maggio. Il mirino del dibattito à stato volutamente puntato sul lupo quando in realtà quanto discusso e votato a Berna va ampiamente oltre, intaccando i principi di protezione dell’ambiente.
Tra i peggioramenti contenuti nel testo messo in votazione vi è innanzitutto la “presunzione di colpevolezza”. Concretamente questo significa che se un animale selvatico si presenta in prossimità di attività umane creando un ipotetico pericolo, esso potrà essere preventivamente ucciso. Decisione come questa ci catapulta indietro nel tempo di molti secoli, per non dire millenni, quando l’essere umano si trovava immerso in ambienti dominati dagli animali e da loro doveva difendersi. Ora siamo noi umani la vera minaccia dell’Ecosistema.
Although the definition of the Ecosystem is a relatively new term, in recent months it has taken on a very important media impact.
The human being is closely connected to Nature, on which he depends for his survival. Without a healthy ecosystem, we would not have water to drink and clean air to breathe.
But nobody thinks about it, at least until an emergency takes over and then everyone is mobilizing in favor of Nature.
We saw it thanks to the “climate strike”, or perhaps even more as a result of the devastating fires that killed over half a billion living creatures and destroyed immense territories of forests and pastures.
With the increase in population, the anthropogenic impact has had devastating effects: scars on the planet that can no longer be healed, even by adopting extreme actions.
Here, however, I don’t want to touch on issues such as “sustainable development”, but I prefer to focus on simpler factors that even a very young person can understand.
Biodiversity not only maintains a functional environment where the ecosystem is balanced and therefore the flows are in dynamic equilibrium. We all remember having studied the “energy flow” and that of the “food chain” at school; the ecosystem is therefore balanced when each element is in place and ensures that primary consumers (herbivores) can feed on the first link in the chain (plants etc.) and then, in turn, be hunted by secondary consumers, the carnivores.
Each ring in the chain has its precise place, we remove a ring and things start not working properly anymore.
The various laws ensure that Biodiversity is protected, but what happens when changes to the law take place which inflicts damage on biodiversity?
Each organism has its place in the “food chain”, but if instead of protecting endangered species we begin to allow their killing, what can be the results? The reform of the hunting law (Switzerland) will soon be put to the vote, which provides for the possibility of killing wild animals such as the swan, beaver, grebe, lynx or wolf without restrictions. A demographic decrease in each of these species would have an impact on the entire ecosystem, thus producing further damage to nature that has already deteriorated sufficiently.
Biodiversity provides us with multiple varieties of services, fundamental for human and animal survival. Different organisms are responsible for controlling those invasive or harmful botanical species, maintaining soil fertility and purifying water and air, which in turn also directly affect the climate.
We must, therefore, be able to think beyond the obsolete paradigms that see certain “dangerous” animals and therefore exterminable at will. It is our ethical duty to act in such a way as not to rage towards Nature, but rather to work to protect and safeguard it… for future generations.
…oOo…
Anche se la definizione di Ecosistema è un termine relativamente nuovo, in questi ultimi mesi ha assunto un impatto mediatico molto importante.
L’essere umano è strettamente collegato alla Natura, dalla quale dipende per la sua sopravvivenza. Senza un ecosistema sano, non avremmo acqua da bere e aria pulita da respirare.
Ma nessuno ci pensa, almeno fino a quando subentra un’emergenza ed allora ecco che tutti si mobilitano a favore della Natura.
Lo abbiamo visto grazie allo “sciopero per il clima”, o forse ancora di più a seguito dei devastanti incendi che hanno ucciso oltre mezzo miliardo di creature viventi e distrutto territori immensi di foreste e pascoli.
Con l’aumento demografico, l’impatto antropogenico ha avuto effetti devastanti: cicatrici sul pianeta che non sono più sanabili, neppure adottando azioni estreme.
Qui non desidero però toccare temi quali lo “sviluppo sostenibile”, ma preferisco concentrarmi su fattori più semplici che anche un giovanissimo può comprendere.
La biodiversità non solo mantiene un ambiente funzionale dove l’Ecosistema risulta bilanciato e quindi i flussi sono in equilibrio dinamico. Tutti ci ricordiamo d’aver studiato a scuola il “flusso dell’energia” e quello della “catena alimentare”; l’ecosistema è pertanto equilibrato quando ogni elemento è al suo posto e provvede affinché i consumatori primari (erbivori) possano cibarsi del primo anello della catena (piante ecc.) per poi a loro volta essere cacciati dai consumatori secondari, i carnivori.
Ogni anello della catena ha il suo posto preciso, togliamo un anello e le cose iniziano a non funzionare più in modo corretto.
Le varie leggi provvedono affinché la Biodiversità sia protetta, ma cosa accade quando subentrano delle modifiche di legge che infliggono danni alla biodiversità?
Ogni organismo ha il suo posto nella “catena alimentare”, ma se al posto di proteggere delle specie minacciate iniziamo a permettere il loro abbattimento, quali possono essere i risultati? Prossimamente sarà messa ai voti la riforma della legge sulla caccia che prevede la possibilità di uccidere senza restrizioni animali selvatici quali ad esempio il cigno, il castoro, lo svasso, la lince o il lupo. Una diminuzione demografica di ognuna di queste specie, avrebbe un impatto su tutto l’Ecosistema producendo quindi ulteriori danni alla Natura già sufficientemente deteriorata.
La Biodiversità ci fornisce molteplici varietà di servizi, fondamentali per la sopravvivenza umana e animale. Diversi organismi sono responsabili del controllo di quelle specie botaniche invasive o dannose, del mantenimento della fertilità del suolo e della purificazione dell’acqua e dell’aria, che a loro volta influiscono in modo diretto anche sul clima.
Dobbiamo quindi essere in grado di pensare oltre i paradigmi obsoleti che vedono certuni animali “pericolosi” e quindi sterminabili a piacere. È un nostro dovere etico agire in modo tale da non infierire verso la Natura, ma bensì adoperarci per proteggerla e salvaguardarla… per le generazioni future.
It all began a long time ago… in a quiet area of Insubria, what is today commonly called Canton Ticino. Perhaps the villagers had first noticed Otto, a cute bulldog who was walking his extravagant and limping owner. Yet the latter, elegantly dressed in the same soft colors, would eventually become an integral part of the mysterious legend of the mill abounded and the macabre assassin Lanius collurio. Antonio Ferrari had known him not so much by chance, given that fate weaves his plots well back in time;and it is no coincidence that I could believe that if Antonio had not been there, José Hutchinson (this was the name of the newcomer) would not have endured the tragic events recounted in the first part of the novel “El Molino del Oso I”.
Tutto ebbe inizio molto tempo fa… in una zona tranquilla dell’Insubria, ancor oggi comunemente chiamata Canton Ticino. Forse gli abitanti del villaggio avevano all’inizio notato Otto, un simpatico bulldog che camminava con il suo stravagante e zoppicante proprietario. Eppure quest’ultimo, elegantemente vestito sempre con gli stessi tenui colori , alla fine sarebbe diventato parte integrante della misteriosa leggenda del mulino abbandonato e della macabra assassina Lanius collurio. Antonio Ferrari lo aveva conosciuto non tanto per caso, dato che il destino tesse le sue trame ben addietro nel tempo;e sempre non a caso potrei credere che se Antonio non fosse stato lì, José Hutchinson (questo era il nome del nuovo arrivato) non avrebbe sopportato i tragici eventi raccontati nella prima parte del romanzo “El Molino del Oso I”
A causa del cambiamento climatico e relativo innalzamento della temperatura, le rane e rospi si sposteranno prima dalle zone di letargia verso quelle di riproduzione.
La loro migrazione è prevista in concomitanza con le prime piogge ed è proprio in questi momenti che i volontari entrano in azione effettuando i picchetti e salvataggi direttamente nei luoghi di migrazione.
Nel cantone Ticino, questi sono i punti cruciali dove il “Centro di Coordinamento per la Protezione degli Anfibi e dei Rettili in Svizzera (karch)” e “WWF” necessitano dell’aiuto di persone sensibili alla tematica ambientale/animale. Sul territorio del cantone Ticino sono 36 zone nelle quali gli anfibi effettuano delle migrazioni per raggiungere i luoghi di riproduzione e rilascio delle uova.
Al link sovrastante, sono visibili tutte le zone di intervento a livello federale, con mappatura, descrizione delle eventuali istallazioni di contenimento (barriere amovibili) e nominativo da contattare (indirizzo di posta elettronica) qualora si desideri diventare “volontario”. Attualmente sono 19 zone di cruciale importanze per le quali sono ricercati dei volontari.
Il sostegno dei volontari è quindi importantissimo, in assenza del loro pronto intervento, la popolazione di anfibi già di per sé a forte rischio a causa del cambiamento climatico, subirebbe delle perdite molto importanti.
A conferma di ciò, nella statistica sulle migrazioni rilasciata dalla Confederazione Svizzera, sono messi in evidenza nel dettaglio i dati
Questo è quindi un appello alle persone che desiderano aiutarci, nonché agli automobilisti che dovrebbero prestare maggiore attenzione e sensibilità lungo quelle tratte nelle quali è segnalata la presenza degli anfibi.
Frogs crossing road in China
Due to climate change and relative temperature rise, frogs and toads will first move from lethargy to breeding areas.
Their migration is expected to coincide with the first rains and it is precisely in these moments that the volunteers come into action by carrying out pickets and bailouts directly in the places of migration.
In the canton of Ticino (Switzerland), these are the crucial points where the “Coordination Center for the Protection of Amphibians and Reptiles in Switzerland (karch)” and the “WWF” need the help of people sensitive to environmental/animal issues. On the territory of the canton of Ticino, there are 36 areas in which amphibians migrate to reach the places of reproduction and release of the eggs.
At the link above, all the areas of intervention at a federal level are visible, with mapping, description of any containment installations (removable barriers) and name to contact (email address) if you wish to become voluntary. There are currently 19 areas of crucial importance for which volunteers are sought.
The support of the volunteers is therefore very important, in the absence of their prompt intervention, the population of amphibians already in themselves at high risk due to climate change, would suffer very important losses.
This is therefore an appeal to people who want to help us, as well as to motorists who should pay more attention and sensitivity along those routes in which the presence of amphibians is reported.
In recent days, in German-speaking Switzerland, the lobby of multinationals began massively spreading untruths on the internet.
With their huge campaign budget (more than 8 million in total), they publish online ads everywhere in order to attract voters on their campaign site, abused as an independent “fact-checking” tool.
In reality, it is indeed Furrerhugi who hides behind this website, the public relations agency close to Glencore and Ruedi Noser, the adviser to the States (Switzerland) who is fighting our initiative on behalf of the multinational lobby. Their goal: to pit hundreds of thousands of voters against our initiative using this false information.
The online German newspaper Republik further revealed that the Tamedia press group, which owns, for example, the “Tagesanzeiger” or “Le Matin Dimanche”, had supported Furrerhugi in the implementation of this campaign. It is true that Tamedia can hope to make a lot of money thanks to the announcements of the lobby of the multinationals placed on their online portals.
I am very worried to see that “independent” press houses, in fact, work so closely with the public relations agency of Glencore and that the lobby of the multinationals tries with such indecency to deceive the voters using this false information.
We must prepare for a very tough voting campaign: winning against the multinational lobby will be a huge challenge, knowing that they plan to massively spread untruths
with more than 8 million francs, and that they benefit from the support of public relations agencies whose proximity to large newsgroups turned out.
I still remain confident, and more and more convinced that we will manage to meet these challenges. Why ? Because our initiative aims for obviousness: when a multinational like Glencore contaminates rivers or destroys entire regions, so it must be accountable!
Watching the strength of our movement and the incredible number of people who, like you, support us every day gives me great courage. More than ten thousand volunteers mobilize in 300 local committees throughout the country. Entrepreneurs join a committee of the economy in favor of better responsibility for multinationals. The politicians of the bourgeois parties are always more likely not to be intimidated by the lobby of the multinationals and to vote for a YES on the initiative for responsible multinationals. Churches unanimously support our initiative.
Thousands of people have already contributed to our campaign with a donation of 10, 50 or 100 francs and simply make our work possible.
Together, we can win this vote. With strong arguments and by funding our own posters with thousands of small donations. Thanks to the commitment of people like you.
A huge thank you for your support!
With my best wishes,
Dick Marty
The former adviser to States and co-chair of the initiative committee
Nei giorni scorsi, nella Svizzera tedesca, la lobby delle multinazionali ha iniziato a diffondere in modo massiccio falsità su Internet.
Con il loro enorme budget per la campagna (oltre 8 milioni in totale), pubblicano ovunque annunci online per attirare gli elettori sul loro sito di campagna, presentato abusivamente come strumento indipendente di “verifica dei fatti”.
In realtà, è proprio Furrerhugi che si nasconde dietro questo sito web, l’agenzia di pubbliche relazioni vicino a Glencore e Ruedi Noser, il consigliere agli Stati che sta combattendo contro la nostra iniziativa a nome della lobby multinazionale.
Il loro obiettivo: indirizzare centinaia di migliaia di elettori contro la nostra iniziativa utilizzando informazioni false.
Il quotidiano tedesco online Republik ha inoltre rivelato che Il gruppo stampa Tamedia, che possiede ad esempio il “Tagesanzeiger” o “Le Matin Dimanche”, aveva sostenuto Furrerhugi nell’attuazione di questa campagna. È vero che Tamedia può sperare di fare molti soldi grazie agli annunci della lobby delle multinazionali collocate sui loro portali online.
Sono molto preoccupato di vedere che editori, “indipendenti” in effetti, lavorano così a stretto contatto con l’agenzia di pubbliche relazioni di Glencore, e che la lobby delle multinazionali cerca con tale indecenza di ingannare il votare usando queste informazioni false.
Dobbiamo prepararci per una campagna elettorale molto dura: vincere contro la lobby multinazionale sarà una grande sfida, sapendo che ha intenzione di diffondere in modo massiccio falsità con oltre 8 milioni di franchi e che beneficia del sostegno agenzie di pubbliche relazioni la cui vicinanza a grandi dimensioni gruppi di notizie si sono rivelati.
Rimango ancora fiducioso e sempre più convinto che noi riusciremo a far fronte a queste sfide. Perché?
Perché la nostra iniziativa mira all’ovvietà: quando una multinazionale come Glencore contamina i fiumi o distruggeintere regioni, quindi deve essere responsabile!
Guardare la forza del nostro movimento e l’incredibile numero di persone che, come te, ci sostengono ogni giorno mi dà un grande coraggio. Più di diecimila volontari si mobilitano in 300 comitati locali in tuttoil paese. Gli imprenditori si uniscono a un comitato dell‘economia a favore di una migliore responsabilità per le multinazionali. I politici dei partiti borghesi hanno sempre più probabilità di non essere intimiditi dalla lobby delle multinazionali e di votare per un SI all’iniziativa per multinazionali responsabili. Le chiese sostengono all’unanimitàla nostra iniziativa. Migliaia di persone hanno già contribuito alla nostra campagna con una donazione di 10, 50 o 100 franchi e hanno semplicemente reso possibile il nostro lavoro. Insieme, possiamo vincere questo voto. Con argomentazioni forti e finanziando i nostri poster con migliaia di piccole donazioni. Grazie all’impegno di persone come te.
Un enorme grazie per il tuo sostegno!
Con i migliori saluti,
Dick Marty
Ex consigliere agli Stati e co-presidente del comitato d’iniziativa
URGENT APPEAL: Across the country, over 10 million hectares of Australian land has been burned to the ground. Over 1 billion animals have lost their lives so far, including thousands of koalas, kangaroos, wallabies, birds and other iconic wildlife. Your support is urgently needed to care for injured wildlife and restore their homes.
It’s estimated that as many as 8,400 koalas have perished in fires on the mid-north coast of NSW and Kangaroo Island in South Australia has lost over 50% of their koala population This is a devastating blow for an iconic species already in decline, and these bushfires have the potential to hasten koalas’ slide towards extinction in eastern Australia.
Le nostre icone australiane stanno perdendo la casa e la vita a causa di catastrofici incendi.
Per fare una donazione, per favore vai al link sottostante:
APPELLO URGENTE: In tutto il paese, oltre 10 milioni di ettari di territorio australiano sono stati bruciati raso al suolo.Oltre 1 miliardo di animali ha perso la vita finora, tra cui migliaia di koala, canguri, wallaby, uccelli e altri animali selvatici iconici.Il tuo supporto è urgentemente necessario per prendersi cura della fauna selvatica ferita e ripristinare il loro habitat.
Si stima che ben 8.400 koala siano morti negli incendi nella costa centro-settentrionale del Nuovo Galles del Sud e nell’isola del Canguro nell’Australia meridionale abbia perso oltre il 50% della popolazione di koala. Questo è un colpo devastante per una specie iconica già in declino, e questiincendi boschivi hanno il potenziale per accelerare lo scivolamento dei koala verso l’estinzione nell’Australia orientale.
Remember, transitioning to a plant-based diet that embraces compassion for the animals, your health and our planet isn’t really difficult. You just have to want to do it! For the sake of us all… :-)claudine
Claudine Giovannoni 
Multilingual Poetry * Poesie multilingue
In the specific Poesie * Multilingual Poetry section, there are the direct links to Swans.com where you will find the multilingual poems written with Guido Monte and commented by Francesca Saieva, two dear friends from whom I learned to give a new guise to poetic emotions. Sadly, Guido Monte died on December 5, 2017, he leaves to me a very special memory that will remain indelible in my heart. Here, I like to finally insert the whole textes but please note that these are more than ever linked by copyright, for any permissions please apply the requirements of the Swans.com site operator.
Thank you for your understanding.
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Africa
© 2008 AFRICA by Claudine Giovannoni
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by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & Masarwas (Swans – October 18, 2010)
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thora dhe kwa che che
spirit, awake to
entre tú y yo
under the same sky…
miroir les yeux
où j’ai lu douleur et désespoir,
come especho los ojos de los infants
je pleure en réalisant mes limites
“africa souls from sea and earth africa spirit
africa destruction murder africa soleil africa
soleil de ténèbres africa lost forgotten people
africa échos de tout”
appears the voice of night,
cries of the awakening earth,
détras del sonido llega la aurora
soften the glimmering sky,
now silenced, i lean and listen
thora dhe kwa che che
spirit, awake to
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Ápokatástasis
© 2007 Zanzibar by Emanuele Giosuè Mobiglia
.
by G. Monte, C.Giovannoni & C. Orff (Swans – August 23, 2010)
.
… and the existential needs:
mundus ac inferi transeunt
world and hades pass over
because all is in everything…
Nihil restat nisi nunc,
solo l’adesso ci resta,
the clock of time stops
im Strom, on the stream
Portas cerradas
detrás de las ilusiones,
aveugles les yeux
von wem nicht sehen will!
mais rien ne s’oppose à ton deuil
y lo que perdió, carnal life,
se encuentrará de nuevo
will be again…
nel mentre solo l’adesso ci resta,
in the meanwhile only the present for us.
Keep close this door!
And Time will be prisoner…
alas just for another existence.
Wenn keiner will gegen Zeit kriegen,
le Temps,
entlicht will nicht mehr bestehen.
Without end or beginning,
both are One only.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°
.
Carribean Union (Walcott n.1)
.
Dhoruba*Tanpèt (omaggio a Derek Walcott)
by D. Walcott, G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – August 15, 2011)
.
“then all the nations of birds lifted together the huge net of the shadows
of this earth in multitudinous dialects…” the brother derek says,
unity of cada cosas, of all the tongues
unity: a way of compassion,
tambien mi vista se vuelve sincera,
canción del océano!
Language of water without boundaries
bercés dans son flux, flowing without time.
E noi siamo ogni cosa e nessuna,
being Everything and Nothing… as one
Come isole isolate — secluded islands
Islas olvidadas…
drifted away long ago.
E sarà acqua che dal cielo si riversa,
water nourishes life of Earth and Oceans
avec sa force qui tout submerge,
abrumando el sentido de los dèmas.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Confusione-Confusión-Verwirrung
.
by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & P. Handke (Swans – August 25, 2011)
.
¿Quién tiene el derecho de juzgar?
Who has the right to judge?
Para el color de la piel,
para el sonido de palabras — lenguas extrañas,
extrañandose da la apariencia humana…
Writer who writes words
ink over pages of humanity searching for freedom
disperazione de la guerre
diserzione à la recherche de soi-même
Qui a donc le droit de juger…
si la désagrégation porte à la désertion,
à la destruction… absurdité de l’Homme!
Detrás, aún más detrás
todas las palabras pensadas,
escritas, habladas…
peter says: Warum bin ich ich und warum nicht du?
Warum bin ich hier und warum nicht dort?
deux corps imparfaits, unis — cette image
a été gravée sur les pierres par un peuple
presque disparu; dans tous les facettes de l’image
on voit l’empreinte de quelqu’un que
tu n’as pas reconnu dans son voyage secret:
un écrivain de quatre sous,
un schizophrène paranoïaque
et un ausländer turc que seulement l’esprit pénètre,
dans les corps tuméfiés de quelques cliniques psychiatriques,
jours après jours parmi les tas d’ordures et les fausses fêtes.
dans le ciel les bombardiers s’avancent dénués de sens;
il lutte en secret sans se reconnaître,
sans ressentir sa vie mystérieuse.
Behind, utterly behind,
this is the real sense of our presence…
here.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Fliegen Ohne Flügel
.
by Claudine Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – July 4, 2011)
.
I wish I wasn’t me
while the wheel of time turns…
warum hast Du deine Rücken gezeigt
ohne Gefühle…
showing your back and keeping moving on?
Ages come and go,
wir leben und sterben, vivons et mourons…
Without pondering the boundaries of flesh
mais pas au-dehors…
nicht draussen…
Inside you have to search deep
l’absence de choses et d’idées
pour se regarder en soi même:
dream of a crowd, of nothing,
of vanity rapetisse en devenant lui-même néant.
Nothingness… and without meaning
How can you doubt above an unwritten destiny…
which take shape again and again
toujours nouveau, immer anders, over and over.
Un coffre-fort sans clés,
where we are all kept prisoners.
noire de fumée dans une terre mouillée :
des visages effrayés et des verres brisés.
Smoke on the waters of a wet earth…
weil fliegen ohne Flügel
a flight without wings,
is not the only path?
emprisonné
ton âme, comme
une larme
dont la destinée inconnue est
cachée
dans une chambre oubliée…
das letzte land.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Hades
.
by Guido Monte
& Claudine Giovannoni
(Swans – December 3, 2012)
.
“kat’asphodelion leimona”
said homer,
on a grey prairie of asphodels
no light, only black
and waste darkness
am ende
we’re thoughtful stardust
sígoura
apó ta váthi
Sluggish gaze upon Hades’ flowery meadow:
But how is the color
para aquellos no familiarizados con su forma
for anyone unsure about its shape?
Blind, ciego and unaware…
only human
con pensamientos críticos y autodestructivos
de vez en cuando, de temps en temps
self-defeating thoughts.
Ciechi e privi di forma
sablier aveugle
bougie sans lumière
en la oscuridad de las sombras
only tonalidades de gris.
Homer’s Odyssey
quizás
se desmenuza, crumbles into empity
but en réalité
nous sommes que poussière d’étoiles…
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Infinite blending dream
.
by Guido Monte
& Claudine Giovannoni
(Swans – July 2, 2012)
.
Sipping from the blossom of Time:
soledad sin imagen, sed sin labios.
Schau mal deine Hande
para acabar con todo:
hands without Macht, sans pouvoir
who with us the dawn, ezra, ngirrwat, ngirrwat dreaming
“perchance to dream” said hamlet, i vanished avec le soleil
blind i’m ningún, y todos, vanitas,
and all is vanity black visible shantih
en bro a constructed bridge in the palm of my hand
am ende, when you’ll say: come
and “così è, se vi pare” dear luigi pirandello,
and it’s so if you think so
Worte im Wind, mots dans l’orage:
tierra de piedra ardiente.
Como camina el tiempo entre la muerte
und über mir bebt Lippen ohne Farbe.
Finally, here she waits…
monotone et solitaire,
into the depth
solitudine senza volto,
soif sans lèvres.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Island water (Walcott n.3)
To Derek Walcott
.
by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
D. Walcott (Swans – September 26, 2011)
.
je me trouve encore at home,
mais maintenant mon esprit
poursuit des étoiles lointaines.
Vele bianche, white sails
entre sombras de cielo y mar,
unfold the sails
white presences of reality…
Bring me to the Horizon
Déjenme borrar las ilusiones:
busquedas perdidas,
suave caricia de su isla lejana,
le rêve d’une maison au bord de la mer en été,
where the eye follows those sparkles of white,
dreaming the verses of brother derek dans ma vie,
perfect verses like
“island water”
Or is my dreaming
hecho come el agua de su mar
y los oscuros deseos?
Pasos sagrados dejan huellas de agua
over beaches,
and i see his verses
where derek sees the sail that,
“at the rain’s edge”
at last
“will lose sight of islands…”
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
L’âme archétype – (lament of a prisoner)
.
by C. Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – November 15, 2010)
.
La forteresse est l’âme qui aperçoit le continent de sable,
a fortaleza é a alma que mira ao continente de area.
Derrière le rocher que je suis en train de regarder par la fenêtre
(évident par le mot magique) je sens le coucher du soleil,
et je remets le départ à cause d’une lueur de neige sur les cailloux blancs.
Forêts, tours blanches, volcans fumants, genèse primordiale,
évocation de l’âme archétype.
Em la alma, assim… forte crença…
alà, dónde están todas los espectros antiguos.
Y yo, aquí encarcelado,
I keep my eyes upon the changing colours.
Soleil couchant, remuant les ombres,
feeble glaze of amaranths and peaches.
São as cores da paixão,
mas talvez, a ameaça da Terra ruím.
There is need of a heavy desert’s storm
in which sand may flow as water,
falaises où la mer des émotions trouve ses confins.
Just there, where dreams start
y donde la magía de la Vida termina,
and where the magic of Life ends.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Lacrimae Rerum (Tears of Things) – Vergil
.
by C. Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – August 9, 2010)
.
le monde présent, un seul temps ordinaire:
deuil faim soif pleurs
lacrimae rerum agony of everything
that never ends,
não se esqueça
sua pequenez e fraqueza
largo los rios lágrimas de vidas
tears of lives
concepts of majestic glory into the waters—
silence et suplice reflettent l’avidité
e fosco rimane lo sguardo
and obscurely we glance up ecce homo, sunt
lacrimae rerum
men, here are the
tears of everything
for your usual irate indifference
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
On a death-boat
.
Euripides
by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
(Swans – June 6, 2011)
.
i’m a tunisian woman,
a migrant
this is my only travel
to the sicily, along a sea
that i call mediterranean channel.
“tís d’oiden ei tò zen men ésti
catthanein… who understands if
life is death or death is life?”
true words on this death-boat
this night,
comme les navigateurs
de l’antiquité,
and i feel lonely
here, in front of black waves
they leave me to my fate.
unha boca sen respiro,
ollos sen visións inside the darkness,
but esperando una oportunidad.
Si je ferme les yeux, enfin je peux voir
la réalité qui m’est occultée…
seulement les yeux du cœur peuvent distinguer
la multitude de ces subtils enchantements qui
passent près de nous comme des gouttes d’eau.
Je peux seulement sourir, avec doucer et dignité,
à la mort qui s’approche. dans ma vie,
c’est ça le seul sens, le plus grand qui reste,
maintenant que, tout sens s’évanouit à jamais
dans le brouillard.
“who understands if life is death or death is life?”
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Pages of books
.
by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – May 20, 2013)
.
Rescatandos los deseos
dreams et rêves
mémoires d’autres vies.
Sencillo humano y divino
Entres corazones et chansons subtiles.
Forgotten archetype views
Takes shape, into our minds…
Cuando mano los pónen
De forma forma explícita
But then a sorrow;
where personas analfabetas
les pensées restent piégées
tra rami e ricami
books: only return
of fragments, of
emotion on words’ communion along
gesti e sguardi quotidiani
common gestures and gazes
also if in far places
and far times
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Promised Land
.
Genesis
Black Elk
C. Magris
by C. Giovannoni (quotes Dante)
& G. Monte
(Swans – May 23, 2011)
.
And there was the human above absurdity
Along ages and behind understanding…
And Dante: “Halfway along our life’s path,
nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita”
Guided across the Acheron by Charon
through the limbo of the Unknown…
Where was the Polar Star,
showing the right path to follow?
Comme les navigateurs de l’Antiquité
dans la nuit, deep into the night
Navigators of the Past reaching
for the present of memories gone…
Where?
This far is your Home
où défile l’oubli de la Terre promise?
How can you find answers
if nobody can ever ask
the right questions…
If I close my eyes I see
je regarde avec les mains
qui touchent le désespoir
agony over the sea
where death embraces life.
can you tell me where
my country lies?
well,
every land can be the centre
of the world,
black elk said,
black elk,
scrittore analfabeta
deep
illiterate writer
far, but
far from where?
lontano da dove
(archetypal words-roots
from our brother claudio)
and leaves and seashells
from death-boats.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Respiro (breath)
.
by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – June 28, 2010)
.
De las profundidades
rien de nouveau,
mesmo respiro
of forgotten ways
¿Que mas profundo?
The force of Spirits?
When they achieve…
immortality?
Aber es gibt keine Verbindlichkeit,
wirklich…
Zeit ist vergangen…
et toi,
toujours sans espoir
buscas a las sombras
de tú respiro.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Tamah (Darkness)
.
by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
P. Handke
(Swans – February 28, 2011)
.
Beyond time and believing
Derrière la passion des hommes et des femmes
Atman
Ego [sum]
Busqueda sin tiempo y lugares
Achieving nothing but emptiness
Into the core of our souls
Adentro el corason espiritual
Ta Tvam asi. That One you are
Who search for the true himself?
Duality reach meaninglessness
Who am I?
Ta Tvam asi…
Atman
Or maybe is there disbelieve
Into believing…
“Warum bin ich und
warum nicht du?”
¿Que yo no soy yo y tú no eres tú?
Un sol respiro
The flow of pure Energy
Union dans les affections
tamah
tamah, darkness
too many men inside
only to forget life and tvam, yourself
but seeing the atamanam, the unity of the whole
you cannot hate, no more
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Testigos son las estrellas (lament of a prisoner n.3)
.
by G. Monte
& C. Giovannoni
(Swans – January 17, 2011)
.
i’m always in prison, ein nichts, but my mind is now
at far away stars, a uma pessoa na beira do mar,
but suddenly the river of the time,
mto ya muda, o rio do tempo, hits me,
and i realize that i won’t be able
to arrive alive to the big chance of my life.
many years will go by, just a few through
the mountains, but too many through a man’s life.
but how to resist to the thought
that the clue moment still has to come?
mas como se faz para resistir ao pensamento
que o momento decisivo ainda esteja por acontecer?
now i’m sitting alone on a chair, nighttime. ni usiku…
but all of a sudden, no quarto coberto de escuridão,
i go close to the window,
to look at the stars again, and i smile,
i do smile, tenderly to the death
that one day will come,
that’s my last possible way of life,
now that all has disappeared as fog
sasa kila kitu kimetokomea kama ukungu
agora que tudo esvaece como névoa.
Prisonnière dans mes pensées,
même si mon esprit poursuit les souvenirs
qui m’emmènent à toi.
Slave of memories, hidden
into the cosmic power of remembering.
Flows down… aguas corrientes
pesadillas estrañas, sin formas,
que recogen polvo de estrellas
y junto a ellas, con ojos mirantes la oscuridade,
lloro lágrimas amargas.
J’ai épuisé les demandes restées sans réponses…
My trembling voice asking no more questions,
y por último, dejar esta vida?
Where am I?
Si je continue, le long de cette tortueuse chaussée,
esto ya estaba escrito, sin dudas,
sin preguntas y tampoco respuestas.
I’m human, indeed, alone and naked of all my dreams…
And when the night’ll cover up my soul,
jamais plus prisonnière de la vie,
néanmoins embrassée à la mort…
La noche ya está delante de las ventanas,
sonrisas me llenan de felicidad y ternura,
witness are the stars and the blur of thoughts alike fog,
no more sand, for me, into the clepsydra of Time…
Réveille-toi! Despiertate! Wake up!
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Wind gemidos
.
by G. Monte
& C. Giovannoni
(Swans – March 26, 2012)
.
wind gemidos of winter
of yellow, and red leaves
to a dark floor, and
stop, nothing to say
no palabra
no volver
nothing in front of
perdute nuvole-clouds
and vapours,
rain, fire, burst
chasms, segni
another dead leaf
another cloud
and dead thoughts
over my mind
of a dying animal
of desperate people
of starvation
of my times’ horror,
no word to say
in front of them
After dark, when all seems lost,
we experiment the continuity of Light!
Dualité indissoluble,
busqueda de los seres viventes
quest of humanity,
since we are all striving
recherche d’une raison
le long chemins dangereux.
Dia y noche
day and night.
Invierno followed by spring,
l’esperanza ayuda la sobrevivencia!
La condition humaine
hooked on this frustrated flesh
the only way to achieve freedom.
Liberté que n’est pas ici
not above this material world
shouldn’t be so difficult
every time I come across otra persona
souhaiter en silence, without words,
felicidad
That could be the start
poiché solo amore love
can fight against
todas las guerras,
chaque conflict…
Posted by Giovannoni Claudine on March 3, 2021
https://claudinegiovannoni.com/2021/03/03/multilengual-poetry-poesie-multilingue/