spirits uv the holy wild

i am here,  watching into the wild in tuscany.  this film and its sound track, has set itself permanently in my train uv thoughts, feelings, listenings.

la toscana.

where into the wild country side is as artistically cultivated and kept as the oiled luvers put into frames, the madonna wrapped in blu and rossa kneeling in a barn praying for sun, and the father, the son, and the holy spirit distilled and poured every cenna into a bottle uv chianti to dress the tongue in its own beloved color uv deep red.

my red mother tongue is being pressed upon me,  face on glass barrel

i beckon the spirits uv the holy wine,  shared every night around a wooden table, with a young woman, the very own boticelli’s venus, who makes fire every morning to warm her house, who is strong, yet so sweet, straight in her head, zero in her ego, a hero, here…her regazzo, a cacchatore,  an old spirit in a young man’s body who knows everything about plants, and how to grow a garden, so that there are fresh, organic vegetables, black cabbage , to make risotto with panchetta.  ‘”people respect him, ” she says, ” because they understand, he knows what to do if ur plants are dying, he knows what remedy to give them, he could save ur garden”.

ooohh mama mia.  questi regazzi sono propio gente di qualita.

it is true.  the people uv tuscany have an understanding for what is quality in just about everything.  the food, boots -ok lets start here.  i have just bought a pair uv hand made artigiano leather boots leather soles that my feet are celebrating today!   my feet are shouting, maybe cursing, “yes lisa, this is how boots should feel. this is how ur body should feel.”

my stomach has been saying this the second i arrived in this boot shaped country.

eating fresh bread, glazed with garlic and uv course the new oil.  olive oil is just being pressed into bottles while right now wine being poured out uv them.  all this talk uv leather boots, gluttonous eating, and perhaps an excessive need for the right bottle uv wine ogni sera may seem contradictive to the spiritual cleansing i am ad hearing to. within the spirit is the ritual and i figure if the priest every sunday at mass can drink the blood uv jesus christ thru a glass uv quality san-giovese, then…

hell with it is always part uv heaven ( just the right blend)!

into the tuscan wild, outiside,  the leaves changing.  falling to the ground.  leaving dust to settle, sift, and resettle.  saddle up the horses, there is a ranch nearby where horse therapy is given to children, at lettori, kids, who are closed and do not know how to be “social”  are given an opportunity to open up, by creating a relationship with horses; compassionate, noble, beautiful, sensitive, strong animals are able to bring sensitve children, who have not “socialized” with humans, into the open, into the world.

what an eye opener.

sumtimes i too feel like a child who has not quite “socialized” adjusted, to the world, to the society i belong to.  i think the powerful innocence uv the child, if they had the words,  when seeing images on t.v. uv kids who have no food,  and powerful adults off to campaign for billion dollar wars, would ask,  “where is the justice?”.    AD sum JUSTICE dammit, and there might be alot uv people adjusting to the world around them.

within alot uv injustice , how is it this afternoon, simply rolling, pouring my body into the earth, like a fallen ripe plum off my father’s italian plum tree in our front yard-  allows memories feelings injustices, to pour out uv me.

a voice whispers ” the earth heals everything. ”

in the lines of the earth, i see the luving smile, within the lines uv my babbo’s cheeks, always always making the best uv what life handed to him.  this is all we have-  to make the best from whatever beastly burdens this world has given us.

celebrate the clean water, celebrate the bicycle, the bringing people together artists,  teachers,  healers, who genuinely work to create a better future for our children.   (copenhaggen  and climate change right now is on my mind)

i look in the mirror, after tears have poured from eyes, thanking god for all the gifts, all the people, and as if 10 years have poured right off my face, my skin glowing, my eyes bright and full uv light,  i am seeing the innocence behind the eyes, the eyes, all the I’s i have prescribed to, to be “adjusted” to my society.

“society, u crazy breed!”   every morning, i am tearing off my shoes to message my heals, the arches in my feet, tira vente. pulling wind. i am releasing it burping and laughing.

i hear eddie vedder singing to me ” could it be a big hot sun, beating on the big  people in this big hard world” .  it is lunch time. the sun above my head,  sweetly calling in the leaves, to fall to fall to fall to the ground.

into the wild, yes, the story uv this young man, in between american disillusions, leaves society, to live in nature to find… in to the wild, like a weed, he finally rested his head, baby king, a dandelion pulled out from its roots, to be wished upon, and then blown into the sky…

my family, pulled from the land ,  put into boxes their belongings, to leave where wild dad, roamed free.

this story makes me laugh so much!  my nonna and babbo recount it often: how at five years old, in a little town in the molise mountains, little giovanni had to be tied with rope to the kitchen table so that my nonna could keep him from skipping towns with the older boys.  i have a similar one:  at three, taking a chair in the kitchen, unbolting two locks, and taking my one and a half year old brother to take a visit to my nonna’s house, on the other side uv the neighborhood. oh my mother,  if she had only used rope!

hand grab rope, saddle a horse, pull! or maybe let go uv the ropes inside, the tied up packages, let life pour out.

all the land and families, and the children,  scattered like seeds, dreams blowing b lo wings to fly.

haaaaaaaaa. i whisper in his ear, after a wild game uv tag, breathing hard,

in the botanical garden in firenze,

to my own cacchatore tonight,

” u caught me, u caught me,”

did u learn sumthing?

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