solvitur ambulando.

I agree wholeheartedly with the Augustinian saying solvitur ambulando, it is solved by walking; as I place one foot before the other, my mind in turn is calmed, my thoughts flow, and I am able to work through things. This primarily occurs when I walk alone, yet such moments shared with others have also had a profound effect upon my thinking about a situation.

Certain instances stand out in my mind:

I Dolomiti

On a September morning, I rode a cable car up to the summit of one of the peaks in the Dolomites; what was meant to be a day of hiking became an extended walking meditation. Never had I felt so close to God, both physically and ethereally; I was overcome by the beauty of the landscape, the seeming fragility of the tiny villages dotting the valley below, the stunning effects of light and color. Following my descent from that mountaintop, cliché though it may seem, there was something in me, however small and slight, that was irrevocably changed. Perhaps it was a renewed sense of hope, of perspective, of connectedness... or perhaps simply of awe of the majesty of nature.

Lucine di Natale, Venezia

On a brisk evening in December, I walked with my best friend through the streets of Venice, laughing and admiring the glittering lucine draped across the streets. Eventually we stopped and sat on the steps lining the arcades on the Piazza San Marco, and talked about our dreams–literal and figurative–and together made a promise to never settle for anything less than we deserve, but to keep growing & seeking and to live our ideals. Since then I have often returned to that moment for encouragement, and I am still striving to honor it.

Stazione Campo di Marte

On a February night, bundled in my down parka, I traversed the overpass that crosses the tracks at the Campo di Marte station, stopping to look at the train schedule, wanting to get on the next train, any train, regardless of its destination– to get away, to escape. Instead I kept walking. As I neared my house, I noticed how the sidewalk beneath my feet shone with thousands of tiny flickers of light, as if it reflected the spangled heavens above.

Rogue Wildflowers, Le Cascine

On a sunny yet chilly day in March, I walked arm-in-arm through the Cascine park with an old Italian flame-of-sorts; although things had never really begun for us, we both knew that they would go no further, and that this was the right thing. After a few months of confusion, the time had come to let go. We walked the entire length of the park, largely in silence, and then went our separate ways.

Via della Pace, Roma

On a marvelous summer's night in Rome, I lead a group of students from piazza to piazza, stopping in each and allowing them to explore. I had been feeling distracted all evening, suffering from some indelible malaise that I had not yet put into words, for then I would truly acknowledge its presence, then I would own it, and I would have to do something about it. I was falling for one of my colleagues. When we stopped at Piazza Navona I needed a few minutes for myself, to regain my center. As I walked, I came upon the loveliest little street: Via della Pace, the street–or literally, the way–of peace. It was just what I had needed. I paused for a moment, taking in the atmosphere with its beautifully lit cafés laden with vines, framing a baroque-era church, and found a glimmer of the peace that I had been seeking.

Firenze di Notte

On a sweltering night in July of last year, I walked home alone after having said my final farewell to my first love (who was, in fact, that former colleague): we had held one another there in front of his apartment on Via de' Tornabuoni for a few eternal moments, shared one last lingering kiss, and then said goodbye. I turned on my heels and walked away, without looking back. I placed my hands over my heart as the tears came, and prayed through them. Not even the next day could I remember the precise route that I had taken: I only remember the rhythmic motion of each step, propelling me forward, and my heart beating beneath my hands. It seemed to last for ages, and yet that was precisely what I had needed it to be. Time to walk, to breathe in and out, and to begin to let go, little by little.

E così via, and so on & so forth. So many times have I walked in search of wisdom, of answers, of peace. I have walked toward things and away from others, walked with a specific destination in mind and wandered aimlessly. I have chosen my own path and surrendered to the Universe, allowing it to guide my steps.

And now I am setting forth once again, putting foot to pavement, and seeking...

girasoli.

"They are spectacular whilst in full bloom, they brilliantly colour the landscape for a few weeks but, soon after, when they begin to fade, there is a long, slow deterioration for at least a couple of months."

[http://www.tuscanyandumbria.typepad.com/]

on sunflowers. rings true on so many levels… when I read this my head spun for a moment, with echoes of memories of a fleeting and faraway time.

but I am here, now, and all is well in the world because I am living my dreams.
Ende der Geschichte. :)

shadows of love, or some semblance thereof.

It is [and has always been] about the experience. Let go, and don't be afraid.

So I had a rather startling and yet obvious thought tonight: I was dwelling on the heaviness in my heart, on the void that I have felt since the end of my first love, shadows of which have lingered on. And then I asked myself: what is it that I truly miss? Is it him? Am I not over him? It's not about him. It hasn't been in a long time. Perhaps it never was. What I miss is how I felt, who I became when I was with him. It's about me: about who I was, who I became, who I wanted to be, who I became instead, who I then wanted to be, who I am, and who I want to be[come].

I have not yet been able to separate Stella from Elliott, from "Stelliot"; and I must, for the time has come to move along. It's not about him any longer, it's about getting the most out of the experience, receiving and honoring the gifts that it has given me by letting go and retaining all of the wonder, the openness, the grace, the courage to love again and more deeply.

So what is it that I want to take away from this first love? What gifts has it given me? Firstly, it gave me a glimpse of what love can and will one day be, a small taste of the wondrous future that the hand of destiny has in store for me. If not for this experience, I would not have known anything of romantic love. It also helped me to open my heart and to truly wear it on my sleeve for the first time in my life. It taught me that I am open and genuine, and that my heart is full of hope, and that this is my true nature. I even learned from it that I am funny! I learned that I am a rock for others, and must extend this to myself. I began to know who I am in relationship; both the positive and the negative.

And it taught me not to cling, not to fight destiny, to be honest with myself and not to romanticize. It taught me that I cannot wish or will another to change, and that I cannot be angered or hurt by the incapacities and the limitations of another.

And lastly, most importantly, I am learning to let go of all of the hopes, dreams, expectations, projections, idealizations, romanticizations, to break free from their fetters, and to walk forward alone, just me, just Stellina. A new little star that is no longer dependant upon any external source to be her strength, her rock, her shelter, her support system-- for she knows that it is all within her open, genuine, hope-full heart.*

magnetic poetry!

composed on the fridge last night, in Wesley and Alan's apartment in London:


loss

after the autumn
those dreams would come
like a sweet flood
     like a sound from far away

only a wise lone heart
could see rose & gold
in the dark
     once our hour was gone.