Take a Walk – The Ugly Side

After all the romantic stories of this beautiful place, it seems only right to reveal there are some pretty ugly sides as well. The main ugly side is the side of the roads. I love going for a long passiagatta (walk) with various friends, usually Maria. One thing that I noted right away was the amazing amount of trash on the sides of the road once you are out of the old town. There are two primary types of trash, that which has been thrown from the windows of traveling cars, the other bits of cars themselves and the damaged guard rails and reflectors; the result of car crashes.

These are great reminders of how we as humans contribute so much to the damage of God’s creation, we are not perfect, and in fact can cause so much harm. The throwing of garbage is much as when we speak words that hurt others or physically act out in ways that cause pain or suffering: personal sin. The force of auto accidents is a something that is a creation of the whole of humanity; it takes machinery which is made by many in factories, add human neglect of weather conditions or over-confidence in one’s ability or even circumstances beyond the control of the driver and you have a crash: institutional/communal sin.

Sin is part of the human condition; we separate ourselves from God and the beauty of creation in our thoughts or actions. The resulting garbage on the side of the road is ugly. No matter where you go in the world, you can’t escape the darkness of sin, whether intentional or not. As humans we have to note that we are fully capable of not only creating the grace the world needs, but that we are often the contributors to the garbage of the world.
How do we name our awareness to our own contribution to the word’s mess?
How do we work to clean the mess – bring about a change?
How do we look beyond the garbage and into the beauty that is creation – the creation outside of us, and within?

On a “Missione”

You know you have a true friend when they understand you before you say anything or when in a foreign country, you can’t say what you are thinking. When the caffe was closed for a week between change of ownership, my friend Maria took me to the next town over for morning cappuccino. Ever armed with my camera, I started taking pictures of this very pretty abandoned building across the street before climbing into the car. But before I could sit, Maria motioned me to go to the other side of the building.

Not only was the building lovely, but there in the front was a beautiful marker, a wrought iron cross and plaque. This lovely building had been a missione. Maria patiently waited while I walked the entire grounds taking pictures of all the structures that remained on this property that had become encircled by streets. Some of the buildings, such as the chicken coops were still in use. What struck me was the beauty of all the buildings, how even the coops were pretty. Not grandiose, but pretty, much as many of the villages and building in the countryside here. There is attention to detail, people care about the work being done that even an outbuilding be structurally practical and esthetically pleasing.

This Missione had done the work of God for years, in a simply beautiful manner, and this same care can be said to be reflected in the heart of my friend Maria. She had taken the care to ensure our routine of morning coffee not be missed, that I understand the importance of this building I was photographing and she took time patience to see that these beautiful things were revealed. Just as this Missione had served the people in the village of Tavernelli, so Maria served me.

How do you receive the love and care of others with awe and gratitude?
How do you offer yourself in Missione?

Was it You? Sei stato tu?

My friend Roberta arrived here in Piegaro as another new kid in town the same week as me; however, she was unable to set up her apartment for a while because of one notorious soul. While she was otherwise occupied, she left a window open to allow in the fresh air when an intruder invaded her home. Within a short time the fiend had damaged much of her furniture claiming as his own, the cat had left his mark everywhere. Roberta was the victims of the notorious Piegaro cats who like to spray their scent on anything that is not moving.

After weeks of cleaning and taking cushions and sofa covers to the laundry Roberta was finally able to settle in. She never saw her intruder and has told me that whenever she sees any of the local cats she wonders, “Sei stato tu?” It was a high cost for leaving a second story window open (the climbing vine provided entry) for just a short time, literally as the cleaning costs mounted. But it seemed such a good metaphor for life in general and for Valentine’s week.

So often we like all the answers, we want to know the who, what, where, how and why of things are they way they are. Roberta tells me that Italians are much more spontaneous than Americans, and certainly speaking for myself, living within my thoughts and thinking things to death is a way of life for me. Playing detective, coming up with new ideas and creative solutions to problems are my normal patterns, constantly trying to unravel life’s mysteries.

However, just as Roberta will never know which cat struck her apartment, so we will never solve the mysteries of life. The bible often reminds us that God is beyond the fullness of our knowing, for God is so much more than we can imagine. I like to think that principle also applies to love, seeing how God is Love, both in verb and noun form. We physically feel the peak of our existence when in the throes of romantic love, and we know the importance in our lives of the verb to love when others show us compassion and the agape love of kind neighbors. While we can explain how to love neighbors, the draw of our hearts to do so is mystery, and even when we can name what attracts us to another person romantically, we can never explain the mystery of falling in love with another person.

One of the great joys to be found in life is when we live in our hearts and put aside the need to think through all the questions of this world and simply inhabit the mystery. The mystery of the sacred, the mystery of the love, the mystery of all the moments we experience that forever change us and bring us to new places that can excite, exhilarate, and bring us to the fullness of feeling the entirety of our created being.

How do you embrace the mystery of God?
Is it easy or difficult to let go of the questions that present themselves in life? How can you release the little mysteries of life into the grace of God….and the big mysteries…to let them go and simply BE??

BONUS TRACK – Elizabeth Barrett-Browning’s 14th Sonnet from the Portuguese:

If thou must love me, let it be for naught
Except for love’s sake only. Do not say
“I love her for her smile – her look – her way
Of speaking gently, - for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day” –
For these things in themselves, Beloved may
Be changed, or change for thee, - and love, so
Wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry, -
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love’s sake, that evermore
Though mayst love on, through love’s eternity.

Just a Paesano

One of the ways I’m learning Italian is by eavesdropping in on conversations at Bottiglia. This week I heard a young man describe himself as a “paesano.” A term I’ve heard in American comedy movies and t.v. but did not really know what it meant until my son asked what it meant before I came to Italy, because he knew in America it is a “dis” – a “slam” – an insult, certainly not a compliment.

Being an insecure person myself, I’m quite used to putting myself down, referring to myself as stupid, crazy and not normal on a regular basis. My friends here will encourage me not to do so, just as my friends in Seattle did. To call others names is certainly acknowledged by all to be harmful, even a sin, but we often don’t realize how putting ourselves down not only harms our own well-being, but often affects other people. For a term that one uses to name their low place, their feelings of inadequacy, may be something wonderful to another, and give a term of magic a sad tone, and especially is hard to hear when you see the person naming themselves lowly as not low at all.

Seriously, I think of crazy and not normal as compliments, who wants to be normal??? And who in this world isn’t a bit crazy??? All geniuses have had a touch of madness! These are typically the phrases I use when I am trying to walk the tightrope of wondering where I am in the world that I utilize for myself. I had a horrible run-in with someone while here in Italy and realized how quick I was to put myself down, which helped the other person pounce upon my insecurity. Then I went to my friends here who immediately called me out to be strong, and that they would help me learn to be a stronger person, a stronger woman. God I am so thankful for my femma Italiana amici!!!! My-self insults where harmful in this situation, which took me back to considering the harm of insecurity and words used.

So going back to when my son asked what paesano was because he had heard it so many times, we looked up the term; in American dictionarires it was “country boy” or person from the sticks. Here in Italy, according to my very good interpretor Roberta, it means one from the village. I laughed at the time because I would never consider either of those an insult. The only man I ever loved mind-body-soul was a lovely young man from a small town in the middle of nowhere with the iconic, ironic cowboy name Shane. How many times I dreamt of being that awful child actor in the movie “Shane” calling out “Shane, Shane, come back Shane!” Shane and I were both so insecure that we were afraid to tell the other we loved them; something I would learn after he left town from his cousin, who filled me in on all the sordid details of his leaving feeling I never loved him. Twenty years later I can still name him as the love of my life.

When we call ourselves names, when we think so low of ourselves we cause ourselves nothing but harm. I once heard that the sin of man was pride, the sin of women insecurity….but I think both pride and insecurity reside in the same place the fear and denial of the wonder of our created being. To remember that we are not “just” a paison, stupid, a city rat, a _____(fill in the blank), we come a little closer to Love….love of self….love of others…love of the God in whom we are created in image.

What are some of the names you give yourself?
Do they glorify or deny the creator of all in love?
How do we find those who can support us to move beyond the negative labels we give ourselves?

All in Favor of the Mid-Life Crisis

There have been studies and stories of the tragedy of the mid-life crisis. That point in life when people reflect on the meaning of their life thus far and often do crazy things. The tell-tale sign for men is often the purchase of fast, sporty cars, for women it is travel and time for reflection.

As I sit here in Italy, with only enough Italian to order a beverage and have very small, very slow conversations with people who I have grown to love, and who upon reflection are so much like the people I left behind in America. And yet the simple act of getting away has done great things to feed my soul. One of the suggestions for this time of sabbatical was to constantly remember what I am here for. I have realized it really is about having a successful mid-life crisis.

My children are grown, my career as a congregational pastor over, and without romance. What a great time for a mid-life crisis! After 4 weeks I’m ready to make some changes to successfully settle into my chosen lifestyle here. I have had enough time to reflect on what is working well, and what isn’t in this temporary situation, which the essence of sabbatical work. The next work will be to do the work of reflecting on permanent life choices and how to take my next steps in life’s journey.
This is a beautifully successful mid-life crisis. I have time to pray, to reflect, but mostly to just LIVE. I have had time to dance, to write, to walk, chat, drink and to sing (tip: Karaoke is much easier in a foreign country). One of the great things for me this trip is to sit in the back of the church, to memorize the Eucharist words spoken with the congregation, and to feel at home away from the pulpit. It has made the transition so much easier.

Before arriving in Italy I was aware that at the center of my mid-life crisis was the need for transition in my life from living life from my head to living from my heart. It is at the core of what is important in life. I look forward to 4 more months of strengthening my heart for living; it is a good place to be. It is my prayer that all would have time to be in a supportive community to search heart and soul for how to live this one precious life we’ve been given.

.....This week for me, a scooter, a red one to travel out and about in the surrounding areas, but not too far from my new home as I search new adventures and bravely go new places!

Gossip Gossip - Or The New Girl in Town

I was surprised the other day when a very distinguished friend here in Italy, from the next town over, asked me what the latest gossip was; Not only was I terribly amused by the twinkle in his eye, but found myself twinkling too; I then began to rehash what has been the main gossip in my circle, not just of this trip, but for the last 2 times I've been here...all about the caffe and plans to change, new owners, success for the future, past intrigue. It is so easy to get caught up in a good story, especially one that seems to run a long time, and that it has been my pleasure to watch unfold. The interesting thing about gossip is that when it comes right down to it, it is always about relationship, not only the relationship to my friend as we shared the story, but about the participants as well, it is about the unfolding of life, about conflict and joys. But this is the positive side of gossip and there is a very good reason why gossip is discouraged in the bible, and by people who are wise. For it is most difficult to know that others are talking about you instead of with you, it is difficult to know that often people are discussing your motives and ideas in difficult situations. Most of all it is a reality that when life is difficult we are not at our best, and when we really need support from others, to have people speak about us instead of with us, it simply hurts.

It makes me reflect on my own draw into the gossip of the lives and business of others. It made me reflect on how I felt about knowing of gossip about me. When I was in high school there was an interesting tidbit of gossip floating around after a summer at my aunt’s home where I returned with a gift, my grandmother’s wedding ring, it was rumored I was married over the summer. At an age other girls were going out on dates, I was alone, having it assumed through gossip that I was married. For all the genuine interest in my life that led to the spread of gossip, the fact that it was it hurt.

More reflection... Something mulling in my mind for a while was what brought me back to Italy. That there was a sense of familiarity, and although I would be the new girl in town, it is a town I've been in before and love. I wasn't brand-new, but just new. Having moved about more than the American national average of once every 2-3 years, I'm tired of moving, and tired of being the new girl in town, the one people talk about. One funny reflection was that my wardrobe and hair are the greatest tricks of my trade to avoid deep gossip about myself. Over the years it has come to my attention that if people talk about my hair and clothes they usually don't pry to deep into my personal life in the gossip department. Sort of the best defense is a good offence. And in talking this topic with others, I discovered many different tricks people used to avoid gossip, an indication that gossip is something universal globally, and something most dislike being the source of.

How do we avoid getting drawn into the sharing of gossip?
How can we join in the conversation with the people we would talk about and instead talk with them when we truly care?
Can we find any comfort when we know we are the center of gossip at the awareness that at its core, we are worthy of others’ interest?
How do we participate both in the elimination of gossip of others, and keep good boundaries to prevent some of the gossip that would happen about us?

Perfect Place

When I was a kid there was a cartoon where Yogi Bear and all the Hanna Barbara characters traveled the world in search of a “perfect place.”  Each week they were disappointed, finding something wrong with each place they visited, because in fact, there is no perfect place.  However, there are important places in our lives, one dear friend named them as “thin places” where spirit and earth are so close together, you can simply reach out and touch the sacred. 

This week has been so beautiful in Piegaro, the weather is amazing, after last week’s snow, this week we have nothing but sun, and it gets warmer every day.  It is very hard to stay indoors to write when the days are so gloriously beautiful.  And with my moving about, I’ve had the pleasure of being out in the evenings with other people, or sleeping.    While enjoying the beauty of the village, I decided to take advantage of the winter season and get a sheep’s eye view of the village, walking about the river valley meadows where the sheep graze from spring to fall.  This is one of my favorite places, a place to see the sheep, hear their baaaas and their bells, and feel the life of the animals, the valley and the river. 

As I walked toward the valley I noticed from the road there were stairs heading up to Piegaro that I hadn’t seen before.  I knew that was a place of new adventure for me, that somehow my heart beckoned me to take that path on my return home.   It wasn’t a totally new place where I ended up, but rather a place I saw in a new way.

In my last visits, and even in the last few weeks I had taken pictures of the sweet old church and the adjoining animal run with its terraced bathtubs for water.  Last fall there was a great group of bunnies there, and I wondered if they were for savoring.  But this week I discovered more.  The stairs lead to one of the older walls of the village, complete with arrow holes for shooting at encroaching intruders. As you round the corner of the walls, there appears before you terraced gardens for food, and a most wonderful cistern that is constantly pouring forth water from the underground springs of Piegaro.  The cistern is very old, very beautiful, and I was informed where the women washed the clothes in the village for many, many years, before modern laundry.  The gardens, the cistern, the animal pens encircle the older church in the village, a church with adjoining home. 

It struck me at once as a “perfect place”… and one friend asked me why “perfect” – was it the church?  I said the church was amazing, and the most wonderful man with such a sweet spirit that glowed from within his soul through his eyes let me in to take pictures and to pray.  But it was the whole package…a package I spent two days unpacking.  When we are on spiritual retreat, it is good to contemplate what moves our soul beyond the normal, what moves us to the sacred and the special.  So my friend’s question, “why perfect” was important for me to contemplate for a while.

To begin with, was the beginning, the sheep’s meadow, right under this special place, is a place that already had meaning to me from my previous trip to Piegaro.  It was upon arriving at the bottom of Mt. Arale, in the sheep meadow that I found the beautiful metaphor for a life when “hitting bottom” also the place where we find hope.  There is life and beauty in the image of the sheep, not only in faith, but simply in experience.  Hearing their cries, hearing their bells, seeing them move gracefully in a group as they get their physical needs met is a visible, audible sign of hope and beauty.  My little “perfect place” overlooks the sheep’s meadow, in perfect range to hear their bells and baaaas. 

Then came the stairs, the walkway, itself, it was a practical blending of the old and the new.  New was the stairs, the lighting, and old was the old wall with the arrow holes.  Now the old wall has been filled with dirt, as many “new” walls were built to guard the village from invaders, but to see, touch, and know the security of the old wall, which now serves to secure a very large terrace of the village, and the main road, is pretty amazing.  What is old supports that which is new, yet another great metaphor for life, and I can touch it.  I can feel the depths of the arrow holes, run my fingers along the centuries old wall, sense this piece of time and space.

And then there was the gate, the grate, and the wooden guide rails; serving to protect people from falling down the steep hill onto the terrace below.  All were practical, all were common, all were utilized for the care of the community.  They are the handiwork of the gardener, and others to keep the terraced garden a place where people could see, but not fall into.  To say that I crept around them to get good pictures is an understatement, I almost fell down the hill a couple of times, but what caught my eye, my heart, was the attention paid to making this steep area safe for all who would pass this way.  And I found it all simply beautiful.  Not neon, not colorful, not a sign screaming PRIVATE, KEEP OUT, or CAUTION.  Rather the gate, grates and rails were simple reminders to stay on the path most welcoming.

Ah, the water, the cistern is amazing, awesome, and at the same time so darn practical.  The use of bricks to create the arches and tubs is done to not only serve the purpose of a place to get water and do laundry, but to do so in a place of beauty.  I can just imagine the women of the village, doing laundry en masse, laughing and gossiping with full view of the valley, the mountains and the sweet sheep below.  It is a place where labor is beautiful, and given some dignity, beyond just the necessary stone tub.

And the way the water constantly flows from the underground stream, ever-flowing is beautiful.  In the cold of the winter when all is frozen in the morning, the vibrant green of the moss on the stones that quiet the water coming through the cistern is beautiful.  The water and the surrounding stones and terra are alive!  Today I had the joy of washing my hands cut from work in the water and drying them with the nearby lavender.  From pain to fine in moments with the healing water and sensual herbs was miraculous, ahhhh the life giving fresh water.

There is lush grass with beautiful little blooming Margareta flowers leading to the stairs that take you to the entrance of the church.  On the special day I walked up this beautiful path, I met the sweet gentleman at the door of the church.  He was just closing and locking the door as I approached.  With my three simple Italian words, “Entra Per Favore?” he smiled sweetly and opened the door for me.  Once inside I did ask to take photos, but knew in my heart that taking many photos of this glorious little church was not necessary for my spirit.  To drink in the beauty of the fresco, the sweetness of the sanctuary, to feel the awesomeness of the love of God in this place was the gift I was given on this day.  It was easy for me to kneel and pray for one I loved and ached for, another soul going through change of life’s journey, something so many of us seem to be doing now.  I have been in many older churches in Italy, used as infrequently as this one, but none kept so well, so reverently, although I feel I am over-using the word, it was SWEET, sweet to my soul.  To find this dear sweet man I’ve seen about the village, smiling sweetly for me on this visit, to feel this grace, this sacred space was sweet as honey. (Which was yet another reflection as my name, Melissa, means honeybee/honey and outside I found a piece of honeycomb.) 

Then there was the magic that the whole place is circled with food producing gardens/animal pens which too reflect a sense of life-giving space.  (these are Franco's, the gentleman who let me into the church, I was informed that when I learn Italian, he is a good keeper of the local stories!) It is not large, but terraced, so the best usage of an acre of hillside that I have ever seen.  It brought to mind the phrase used by the author Erskine Caldwell of “God’s little acre” a metaphor for a place with a depth of meaning (although please read the book, it is a great commentary on what we value).   In this small space was life giving water, food, history and sacred space, to top it all off, it is on the hillside overlooking the beautiful valley and one “ugly” feature that also gives life, the glass factory.  The factory is a cooperative and a continuation of the tradition in this village of 8 centuries of glass production.  Even the factory has a gracious depth of meaning.

So in the end what made this little acre so special, so perfect, was the depth of meaning it held is so many, many ways.  And that in the end, it was in the surprise of finding this place, finding entrance into sanctuary and prayer, and in the underlying reality for myself that there is a call on my heart in this place BEYOND any words I can write.  It is a thin place for me, where I see the abundance of life, grace and beauty, something not to be explained fully ever.  It is the beauty of place, of people and of spirit.  It is in the knowing that this church is for the most part closed because it is on the main road and for worship to happen frequently there was a need of a safer place for the people to worship, and thus the new church was built…built for the good of those worshipping.  All is done for the good of God and God’s people.  How very cool…it touches my soul…..may we all find a place that touches our soul…may we all know a place that makes our heart sing…may we all have a person or people who make our heart dance… may we all feel so deeply the awesomeness that is in our world.