A day of strong wind, as you rarely see in Florence, it's cold and it feels good in the sun. The sky was clear that the morning is filled with clouds, but I do not give to go for a walk in the woods Vincigliata, elf like I need air, contact with the trees, the earth, I love the smell of the grass, look at the flowers that shyly beginning to appear, as if to show that spring is coming, even though winter still does not want to go.
involves Valentina, who like me loves to walk, and we venture into the woods, we are well covered, the wind is cold, it begins to sleet, but the path we are protected by cypresses and does not feel the cold, we arrived in the clearing olive trees and we stopped to enjoy the peace resting on a trunk rough: it is wonderful to observe the landscape. The silvery leaves of olive trees move in the wind, like the tops of cypress trees, but in clearing the wind is slowed down as his voice is heard only in the forest, combined with that of birds. Sleet
stronger, the sky is leaden, even if the sun tries to peep, as the wind pushes a small flurry of snow crystals that we invest in, laugh and walk faster to reach the church of S. Lorenzo and S. Maria a Vincigliata and find refuge in the rectory. The garden, with Paul that I have dubbed the "garden of the soul" is full of violets, make me tenderly, in the garden peach and apricot are already flowering, hopefully not freeze tonight. Come back
the sky opens, the wind pushes the white clouds that follow in the blue above the treetops, I am reminded of the "Canticle of the Sun" by S. Francis of Assisi, where he praises the Lord for "Brother Wind and air, cloudy and serene, and every time." I love the wind that managed to wipe out the gray clouds and brought the white, turning a winter afternoon in a windy and cold spring. I arrived home to find the email that Valerie had sent me when I confided that I loved the white clouds, are thoughts that I shared by Osho first moment:
A white cloud is a mystery: his arrival, his departure, his very existence. A white cloud exist without any roots, is a phenomenon rooted out, that does not rely in any place, or rather, rests not in place. But even so, there is abundant and exists in the form.
All of life is this: without roots, without cause, without purpose: it exists. Exists as a mystery. A cloud has nowhere to go. It moves, it moves on all sides, mistress of all sizes, as well as directions. Nothing to be prohibited. Everything is there, in full acceptance.
The clouds do not have their own way: drifting. Means having a path somewhere. The real path is a path without direction. Move, but without intent to maturity; move without a rational decision.
why I call my journey "The Way of White Clouds." I like that you were like the white clouds drifting in the sky. They drift, do not make for a point. Wherever you are, what is the goal. The goal is all the time: the path is the goal. Transformed into white clouds. Stay only there, do not resist, do not fight: just enjoy life, celebrate the moment, the pleasure, the ecstasy of life. (Osho)
would be wonderful to be transformed into a white cloud ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment