“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely”

Carl Gustav Jung

On a flight to Hong Kong / January 5, 2020

A song called 2020 plays in my teenage memories and collides with this chapter full of unexpected desires and new territories to explore.

The fears gradually fade away but still take hold of those black parts that many people are sure to carry inside, emotional baggage that hinders the need for visions, the agitation under the skin, an explosive love that does not seem true, the return to the beauty and difficult reality of Hong Kong.

Among the notes of almost forgotten songs there are images. The tell as story of the years of education, theoretical knowledge that wants new space, forgotten truths in search of an update, experiences that make their way in the galactic swirls, the dust of stars that obstruct my kidneys, internal bacterial wars that leave me different every time, a river in the making, a drop in that ocean on which fate continues to make me sail. My soul would prefer to seek the peace of rocky peaks, or the embrace of a dense forest that grows undisturbed. Instead I continue to remain at zero above sea leval, who knows for how long. I become. teleological concerns disappear as I abandon myself to this reality.

These and other dreams visit me as I fly over an unknown ocean. Flight attendants push their products for sale, but my need to put everything on the page keeps me focused on keeping this portal open, that creative imagination which is the greatest power, together with the opposable thumb and standing position, which is perhaps a consequence of those.

I want to capture the notes of the rhythm that runs through every moment, but I feel deaf and blind, apart from those rare moments when I stand with a net at the edge of the stream. Careful step after another, crystal clear waters lap the knees. Visions appear below the surface, surround the feet, seem to bite me. I proceed uncertainly for fear of slipping, of making a fool of myself, I lack in firmness and trust.

I finally perceive who I am, in the fusion between sky and water and stones, in the reflection of light on the clear water, on the border between Me and the World, that place that I occupy in every second, even sitting on a slightly narrow seat of a flight of line, or darting on a road attached to the rigid platform of a two-wheeled tractor, or in the waiting room of a hospital that is too empty.

Sitting or standing, moving or in quiet, this network of relationships, threads of light that converge in a point in constant movement, plots of a solid and ephemeral reality, remain active and in constante change, captured only by breath and attention.

As I meditate on the threads that pass through me, I am still surprised by the course of events and increasingly convinced that what is happening to me, beyond the useless categories of positive and negative, is much richer, more intense and generous than I can possibly expect, plan or wish.

Everyday gifts exceed my wildest desires, those one-dimensional cravings linked to frivolous attachments, fixations that limit me more than increase me: greed, gluttony, pride, lust. Spices that give flavor to the days or cravings that bring perennial unhappiness?

Is opening oneself to the gifts of the present an act of freedom from the myopic yoke of the ego?

I always believed I was going with the handbrake pulled during adolescence, along the university years, up to the first steps into the world of adults. I repeated it to myself and to others. Interpersonal relationships, creative skills have been sacrificed to worries, insecurities, while inside an engine of infinite strength pushes tirelessly.

Little by little, in the presence of more or less pleasant crossroads in life, the handbrake lever starts to fall, speed increases, resistance decreases. Events strike, unexpected surprises hidden behind every curve. Sometimes there are jumps, holes, clouds of choking dust and winds that make me shiver.

Yet the wheel brings what I need, unexpectedly at the right time, and I try to make myself comfortable, lying between imaginary sacks of rice and quacking chickens, the blind and deaf driver sings an unknown litany.

It is not about fatalism, determinism or resignation. Everyday actions count, not acting and getting carried away like a leaf is simply impossible. Time spent mulling over action, the constant calculation to try to predict everything do not add value, only layers of meaning that weigh down, killing spontaneity.

2020 comes at a breakneck pace. A progressive number dictated by the need for regularity, a cyclical phenomenon that will soon be exiledto the past by the action of becoming to make room for the new cycle.

Since the handbrake lever started to drop, I have avoided formulating goals, plans, projects, resolutions, preferring to be surprised by what comes next.

Many speak of the importance of setting realistic goals, especially at the beginning of the year, an arbitrary event that influences the common imagination. I have always fought against these intentions, feeling incapable of following through, and for once I am happy that I suck at this.

Any thought surrenders in the face of growth, which happens incessantly, from seed to embryo, from fetus to little man. The illusion of controlling this spontaneous and irreversible phenomenon is a block that clip the wings. Progress, the encounter with old and new obstacles, learning from experience are what interests me most.

I follow the belief that there is nothing wrong with me, nothing to correct, improve, that the fundamental fault that we carry inside is a social construction, and as such is subject to external and internal manipulation. I am improving even if I don’t feel like it, and I am increasingly aware that by “doing” and “trying” or worse by “striving” I create more obstacles than I eliminate.

This is the reason why I prefer to formulate kind directives, guidelines, good practices, which I sometimes find useful if I stop and reflect, when the wind goes down and the sea is flat and you can’t go anywhere. I think about small lessons learned, a vademecum, when life allows it. Mending, cleaning, organizing.

In particular, I focus on some meditations that could help me create good practices:

– Stop dusing categories like nationality, occupation, gender, age, physical appearance, to stop deining myself and others. Stop worrying about beautiful / ugly, intelligent / stupid, healthy / sick, limitations in the field of action. They don’t help.

– Trust the internal world: without imposing it on others, but taking care to share it in the easiest and most fun ways. The discrepancy with the images that come from outside are not a curse, but signs of uniqueness.

– Answering calls: a special soul has taught me to resist the temptation to say no to the calls of life and to do everything possible to answer Yes, or at least Maybe, without closing the doors to emerging possibilities.

– Write as much as possible, to help memory, to record the vibrations of the present rather than for utilitarian purposes: this advice was given to me by Oliviero, a great artist, painter and exceptional creator, who I had the privilege of meeting thanks to an unexpected encounter. A gift that my narrow desires could not even formulate.

– Finish what you start: a very important area of ​​improvement that allows to eliminate excess weights.

– Abandon unnecessary objects, situations and people: eliminate properties that do not have a function and collect them only because ONE DAY they will be useful.

– Ask what you need: visualize in detail needs and desires, and wait for them to manifest, knowing that not all desires will be satisfied, but also that “whoever seeks finds” works like a spell.

– Creating with your own hands: despite the difficulties, the internal and external judgment, it is important to create objects, play with the material, to remember that modifying the material is a sacred activity, understanding that what we do has an impact.

And finally:

– Continue to lower the handbrake lever, allowing the senses and attention to get used to the increase in speed, to respond to the omnipresent chaotic perturbations and to follow the music of the cosmos that resonates at all times.

This is the formula to get rid of the illusion of control and participate in the cosmic dance in which, we want it or not, we are an essential part.