View From The Terrace

July at La Casa Del Cacao

Church bells are ringing up and down the valley: it’s 11am they proclaim! Approximately 11am that is, because there’s many village bells in the valley and I guess if they all played at the same time it would become a deafening roar of chimes and clangs. So the bells ring out marking the minutes of 11am and after, taking it in turn, politely waiting for each other to finish. There is a story that the bells used to ring on the hour, every hour 24 hours in the day. A local petition argued that no one could sleep during the nighttime bells, money seems to have been donated to the church and a new daytime only bell schedule began. I’m not sure how true this is. I love the sound of the bells, they remind me of a little village in Germany, Meerholz, where we would visit an old great Aunt, when I was little. Hot summer evenings on her terrace drinking sprudelwasser and running in and out of the water sprinkler on the lawns.

I love hearing about how senses can provoke reveries of childhood. A friend just told me that the sound of nighttime frogs took her back to Mexico when she was a child. I pause to reflect. The smell of a particularly strong disinfectant agent takes me all the way back to primary school toilets. Urgh. My mum’s Chanel number 5 when she’d kiss us before a night out with dad.

Here in Lecchiore, the busy spring buzzing of heavy duty strimmers (decespogliatore) have given way to the constant chirrup of crickets, which in turn remind me of the dense aliveness of the Panamanian rainforest and their crescendo of insects busily sounding out their life. Climb up through olive terraces though, and the crickets stop their chirrups at the tree line of the oaks, and the temperature drops, just a couple of degrees, enough to make early morning walks a pleasure.

The windchimes tinkle on the terrace.

The panting of our dogs.

The haze of the sun over mountain.

July in Liguria.

This week I taught my first yoga class in 3 months. I’d missed practising with a group, not that I minded adapting my practise at home to accommodate broken bones, but there’s just something so enriching about leading others. It’s how they inspire me I think. I watch as they go into free flow. Experienced yogis who follow their own intuition and bodies. The music embraces my body, their bodies, the air and space moving dancing in the dim light.

Self regulating.

This is the dream, right?

We sing my favourite opening and closing mantra and I’m fully arrived:

Om asato mā sadgamaya
tamaso mā jyotirgamaya
mṛtyormā amṛtam gamaya
Om shānti, shānti, shānti

ॐ असतो मा सद्गमय ।
तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय ।
मृत्योर्मा अमृतं गमय ।
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥

Which means:

Asato mā sadgamaya: Lead (or guide) me from untruth (ignorance/illusion) to truth.

Tamaso mā jyotirgamaya: Lead me from darkness (ego/unawareness) to light (spiritual knowledge).

Mṛtyormā amṛtam gamaya: Lead me from death (the cycle of rebirth) to immortality (realization of the eternal soul).

Om shānti, shānti, shānti: Om, Peace, Peace, Peace (invoking physical, mental, and spiritual peace)

In these days of heat and uncertainty on many different levels like global warming, the rise of fascist politics, questionable ethics in the scientific and medical spheres, the worsening of the divide between people…it’s a lot and there’s a whole lot more but…I come back to

Yoga

Spiritual practices around cacao

Meditation

And they help me understand that to be alive is still the miracle that it’s always been.

Last week our daughters came with friends and a cousin. Seven beautiful young people. I have faith in this generation. They figure themselves out, then they save the world. They came to celebrate our eldest daughter’s upcoming marriage. The house rang with laughter and giggles.

Then our old friend’s daughter and partner came en route to Spain. They will also change the world.

Because they are all children of the sun, of dreams and intention. Of ideas and talent.

They will choose to live in community and to honour and protect the lands where they settle.

These are children of nomads and gypsies. Of parents who realised (just in time) that systems need to change, to be refreshed and who said to their kids;

Go and follow your dreams.

And they are.

I see it.

I love to watch their lives unfold.

We have closed the bed and breakfast for any further paid bookings this summer. A strange choice you might think, but we’ve had this constant and wonderful stream of guests coming through since moving here last June and alongside setting up the Bed and Breakfast, moving house and settling into this beautiful new life, it’s time for us to have a break and to spend these hot days writing, swimming, meditating and practising yoga. If we can’t sustain ourselves then it becomes difficult to welcome others with the open heartedness and care that is our hallmark.

There also continues to be no end of admin tasks that take up our time. At the moment it’s regularising our driving licenses. You can drive on a UK license for a year then you need go trade it in for an Italian one. Marty’s application at the local driving school went smoothly (if expensively); a lengthy form, medical fitness exam & 200 odd euro.

Not mine.

My UK driver license is missing my middle name. It’s never been a problem, except for now as the driving school won’t accept my documents until I add the middle name.

“Go to the consulate” they said.

“We don’t do that” said the consulate.

While I figure out how to remedy this, the time is ticking past my 1 year allowance and with it the window for applying for my Italian license without having to take both the written and practical exams. Alas, no driving for me until this is resolved. A pity since we just bought a secondhand jeep and I’m kind of dying to have a go at driving in a car with the steering wheel sensibly on the left. Still there’s always the bus or the bike (though I’ve promised not to cycle while Marty drives the other car back to England to sell) or a good old hike.

In the meantime, the rhythm of the day is changing.

Dreaming new dreams.

Italian to learn.

Vegetables to tend.

Recipes to try.

Books to read.

This is the rhythm of the summer and the days of our lives.