edging the verge

the ballroom is crowded as ever
laughs jingle, smiles crumple
people all around
electric laughs, wired emotions,
bitter kisses and sour goodbyes
electric light.
motionless touches, clattering, clusmy, muddy words.
I felt alone and that it's time I left the building and so I did
why bearing the scene for a breath more
when this is just exactly how it happens just about anytime
so I traded the false, fading warmth to
a hazy, wind-fissured night
the breeze was drifting from the swamp
there I stood at the edge
and it was there that I inhaled the air
and got intoxicated by its spleen
I closed my eyes and wished for a dream
but that never came
I remained longing for a dream
that never really came
and the longing made my days offensive,
blank, barren and vain
I knew all that I need is some energy to watch things at a different angle
to see the shine and the light
to become easy
to mingle with the happy medium
and when I saw that the serious can be blessed, too
I wondered what am I, who am I to not fit in
and I still wonder along the nights and days that are left mine
and mine alone
who am I to not fit
who am I
to be the one to fight yet being unable to draw a single sword,
the one to conquer yet being maddened by one drop of tear,
the one to win yet being burdened by visions
who,
bordering the four-o
not yet halfway through with this all
yet wondering if that is what it is all about
finding more and more
and using less and less
not wanting anything really anymore
just-
that dream I wanted,
the dream I wanted to become
all those sparkling ideas to fulfill
all those landmarks to feel familiar with
where am I?
just-
a single dandelion that is ripe enough to start flying off to space and time
yet being trapped again
by flesh and cravings, momentary attachments
let me go
I have to let them go
I have to let them go
and let myself go flying high,
high and higher leaving myself behind
- please lift the anchor
the ship is off to go any minute now
but I keep returning to flesh
to regrets, tears, joys and pains but I know I should
let myself go flying
please lift the anchor
the ship is off to go any minute now

today

is just another day before my birthday. I wrote this today, while walking on the way to a friend's house in the evening. This is not the thing I referred to in my last entry, this is something else. This is I wrote in Hungarian. Someday I will translate it.

Esőcsepp vagyok, harmathullás,
vékony gyengécske vízcsobogás
mondd Uram, mit érek én?
Orkán, szélvész helyett...lassú szellő,
telt folyómeder helyett...ócska teknő
mondd Uram, el, mit érek én?
Hova kezem nyújtom, kihűlt űrt markolok,
Hová lábam teszem, ibolyát taposok..
érdemes-e mégis, mit gondolsz?

alone

This is a clip based on the movie 'The English patient'. The song's called 'Sola', meaning 'alone' in Spanish. Sung by Dianna Navarro in a most meaningful way.

div>

All my dear friends and friendly visitors, Christmas and two birthdays in the family are commencing. I might not be able to check my blog and yours as well everytime - I will keep a diary on paper so that I can make sure everything is recorded. I already have another little poemlet at hand and I might post it soon. Now, I'm off to cleaning the house, making Christmas food for the family, decorating the house, visiting relatives - I suppose that's about we all do at this time of the year, don't we?

For those who wish to hide and weep instead I wish a little peaceful island among the waves of rage. Letting anger out and embracing light and understanding. For although anger is right, letting it out relieves the pain.

Merry Christmas for all of you.

Advent, Santa Claus and Christmas activities

'blogger has run out of beta' - isn't that ridiculous? But that's not my topic.
Advent, Santa Claus and Christmas activities in Hungary in general, or rather, in our family....

I have seen the interest arising around facts I spillt out about Christmas habits over here. I spoke about the Advent Wreath (which I lazily translated Advent Ring instead) here. This is put on the dining table, or on the most important table in the whole house.

Later on I described how Santa Claus visits houses where kids live here. Santa Claus comes usually in the morning of 6 December putting candies, chocolates, fruits and nuts into the well cleaned SHOES of kids. Some families have taken up the habit of having it put into stockings as the rest of the world does, and also their kids receive toys as well, but that's far from our traditions. Santa Claus also visits kindergartens and schools this day. It is usually impersonated by an actor, or by the nearest big strong man available :) - in our kindergarten it was the gardener...

Santa comes in red which is a shame. For most people it is not a question to be bothered at all. Enough said of that already here.

Santa Claus comes and goes away on the 6 December. He has nothing to do with Christmas, and rightly so.

Advent means waiting for Christmas and Christmas is when Jesus was born, according to the legend, that is. So, Christmas presents are brought by Jesus, or by angels, or by the Christmas tree itself. Or, by the grandmother, grandfather and other relatives :)

The Christmas tree is erected on 24 December. Not BEFORE Christmas as it is a Christmas tree. One might divert from a tradition but that, in my book is wrong. We have traditions. We keep them so they keep us. And so the order is kept.

In some families, the Christmas tree is decorated by the parent(s) and the tree itself is a miracle and big surprise for the kids. In other families like ours, the tree is decorated together - parents, kids, small and big, decorate it TOGETHER.

The Christmas tree is a pine. In the Hungarian pine means 'fenyő'. Within the word 'fenyő' a sensible Hungarian feels the words 'fenn' meaning 'high' or 'up' and 'fény', meaning 'light'.

Basically this is what Christmas is about. The light that comes from above. Not in the phisical sense of 'above', but in the spiritual sense. At the same time this is when the daylight that has been diminishing ever since Midsummernight starts increasing again. This is why light is associated with Christmas. The light of the Sun brings warmth, thus life and so does love.

Here's a relevant poem I found today, the original is Finnish, translation done by Anniina J.

A perfect one for Christmas.

Olen kuin vanha talo. Jos lakkaat lämmittämästä minua, rapistun. - Risto Rasa -

I am like an old house, If you stop heating me, I will deteriorate. - Risto Rasa -

Christmas presents are placed under the tree and are revealed on Christmas Eve, one the 24 December. De-boxing is always fun for kids. On 25-26 December, families gather and celebrate together.

In most of the households, the Christmas tree is a freshly cut pine. Some families prefer plastic ones so as to keep it for the next year. Some, including ours PREFER NOT KILLING A TREE in the name of seeking Christmas joys so we bought a tree with roots and all and set it up in a large container. We keep it outside in the garden during the year and bring it inside on the 24 December. We decorate it like I said and disassemble it on 6 January.

Most families keep the tree however until mid or late January. Than they throw it away. Had your joy? Throw it away. I find it disgusting. But that's just probably me... And don't tell me it's like buying potatoes or carrots that are cultivated in fields, similarly to those Christmas trees that are cultivated too, for the occassion. Killing a tree is killing a tree.

Our ancestors worshipped trees. And they adored streams and wells alike. Unless in special need they left them unmolested. They used them well and kept them for further generations. This present world makes me sick.

The New Year's Eve has nothing to do with Christmas so I won't speak about that.

30 something years ago my parents found a small package under the Christmas tree. It came into being on December 23 and someone put it under the tree during Christmas. It was a small bundle of a baby girl. They did not really like it, because it was not a boy. But I will overcome this little factoid, too. This is just what I am doing these days and weeks. Because I did want to become a girl, a woman and so I did. My parents liked me of course. But me, not belonging to the desired gender could not save their marriage, because they did not really like each other. It was not me they did not like, it was each other they could not put up with. Sometimes it takes 37 years to understand sensible and simple facts like these. But finally, I am here to understand it all. And I like my parents nevertheless.

This had to come out. And I'm feeling better now.

speaking of

languages, I am troubled now.

I started this blog more than a year ago. I started it in Hungarian, for it was of no question for me. This language has always been the primary way of expression for me. This is how I absorb rhymes and poetry in general this is where the words crumble like a good piece of bread in your mouth - you feel each particle and get nourished by the compound as well. Never in my life have I expected to be able to feel the same way towards any other language. Cause those are secondary ones.

I had a somehow painful flick with Spanish for a while and had some times learning German too, but the list of my secondary languages, composed of only three languages is and has always been topped off by English.

I never thought I would be able to write in English and by writing I mean something that has meaning beyond words, something that not unlike to a dress covers and reveals, plays with you and comforts you.

I sometimes am surprised by what I am able to 'produce' in this second language of mine... I am sometimes mad at not being able to do something similar in the language I adore the most... as if from time to time I abandoned my husband for a lover, and kept returning home....and each time I enjoy the flirt...

yet feeling somehow...misplaced.

I, just today translated a poem a friend wrote.

I felt the need because I felt the poem so much it came under my skin instantly.

But I did not write it...did I?

I admit having done some alterations to the text, but you know how it goes with translation. It's not the words you translate its the meaning.

I am unsure.

Why am I not able to use my beloved first language for expressing myself?

Is this an excuse to escape from reality?

I think I'm going to gulp down some good Hungarian poetry.

Cheers.

Your opinion are welcomed.

winter fog

winter brings white cushions
filled with smooth feathers
to protect, to save, to keep
the fallen leaves waiting, who now are
dreaming of the soil they are
to become before the Sun rises again
over the skyline to fill the scene
once again with feathers and beaks
in a time yet to come
over here, over this garden
gasping for air in the clinch of fog
darkened by the night where rain's dripping
on the roofs of the henhouse
to be visited by a fox
on its quick-paced paws among
the sleeping birds who in fear
of getting slaughtered scream and squeak
into the black desolation so as to wake
us and consciousness
whipping them alive slowly is weakened
to a voice barely audible
among the clouds it is just like a sigh
over moors when the wind blows off
those will-o-the-wisps away....

six words for eternity or for good

First of all, let me express my thanks for Anniina's encouragement towards my writing, my therapeutic experience with blogging, poetry and life in general.

In one of her posts, she refers to the WIRED magazine's six-word competition for writers. For more details, check the original site and competition here.

I found it challenging. And so here's my version. (Six words marching into the finale below):

Compose. Revise. Rewrite. Delete. Give up.

What am I up to?

Dear visitors,
I am sorry for the lack of updates this week.

First, let us have a funny moment by looking at the above photo. You may or may not have seen it somewhere over the wide net of the inter...I have found it yesterday and I like how the little kid actually licks the nose of the pig. For those who have kids, this is very funny.

Okay, go on to some harder nuts to crack.

I have been awarded by a very kind reader of mine, who suggested my compilation of whinings, literary stumblings as a blog worth checking. I always feel dizzy and incompetent at being praised. Or even suggested as being worthy. I feel torn BETWEEN taking a great breath and leaning back at the chair, patting my shoulder and (in a strange twist) jumping as high as the sky feeling able AND feeling small, unimportant. It is definitely a fault of mine, which, in due time, I will conquer. Or that is one of the things I'm trying to do in the foreseeable future.

So.

To this end, and to many others, I have started attending kinesiology sessions. It means that I, or my family is in the focus and the therapist tries to help me/us in the way ahead.

I visited him (the therapist) this Wednesday. I was quite allright beforehand, and the session revealed lots of traumas and false dispositions - the strange thing is that I was aware of them all, or most of them. Guess that makes someone going to a therapy, right?

Yet.

I. AM. CONFUSED.

The following idea came into my mind just in Wednesday evening:

---------

I remember floating in space among stars

this is the planet I chose

this is the family I saw fit

I recollect opting for a female body and fate

this is the father and mother I chose

this is the fate I found fit

my dreams, my deeper inspirations

for the utter development

I have come to terms

for I saw myself coming to this very place

by my intentions and my intentions alone

to be part of the Universe

I, Luca* have finally arrived

-------------

This thing above is a...khm...let's say it's a result of the therapy written in words. Not more.

* Luca is a FEMALE name in the Hungarian language. It originates from the Roman Lux, Lucille (bringing light) and is related to the English Lucy :).

We pronounce it L-oo (as in the English word:wood)-tz (as in pretzel)-uh (as in Sun).

-------------

Move on.

The therapist warned me to look for signs of my subconscious, because I might or might not be determined to become driven off of my road to happyness. Yes, by my own very self. Did I know all that before? Positive. Or at least, I felt it. Sometimes it takes a therapist to awake someone and to be shown a potential way out.

Let me try to go forward in this road...

This blog has always been a therapy for me.

What will change from now on?

Probably nothing.

Why do I bore you with all this?

Because it's my therapy. Writing things out, finding facts and pictures about the development...

Somewhere along the way it might as well become funny and interestin to witness... If it has been of some interest for any of you up to this present day, it will remain the same, too. Don't you worry :)

Now, this is what I dreamed this night:

----

Two giants fighting with a ball

trying to get hold of it

One, a muscular, strong man is dark

as the deepest bark on the oldest tree in an abandoned forest

when the ball is with him he kicks it hard

trying to push it over into a precipice

the other one, a lean , more gracile man woven of light

is also about the have the ball

if he wins over his antagonist, his plan is to deliver the ball closer to the source of light

and what a fight there is between them

wills clashing

but-

within the ball there is light

a soul that has just arrived from above

a little, mighty soul of a girl

with eyese attached on the giants

-----

right now I am confused and see myself as this cat portrayed on the photo below: S/he sees the events, is mesmerized by what s/he perceives, yet has no potential to control.

Csontváry

IllMan of Glasgow has produced a photograph and published it here. The atmosphere reminded me of some works of a Hungarian painter called Csontváry Kosztka Tivadar. So I looked it up and found an English page about him for those who can't read Hungarian. It's here.

I like his landscapes and town pictures as well. Some of his his paintings are captured at times when the natural source of light (sunshine or moonbeam) is weak so there is need for artificial light.

Here are some of his masterpieces. Enjoy!

This one's above called 'Joy-ride in Athens'.

This one above is located in Jajce. Following his inner call and to gather artistic impression he travelled a lot. He spent some considerable time in Italy and around and later, he went to the Middle East as well.

This one was inspired in Naples, Italy (Napoli, Italia) and is called Sunset... I love, LOVE it!

And this final picture is probably one of his most famous pieces. It's called 'The pilgrimage to the Cedar of Lebanon'.

let us dance by the streams of moon
while it is full, sieving through the tangle
it's time we held hands and entwine around the fire
one and one
will become one again

the light
the air
the stars above

all acknowledge us
the stir of love
the wisdom of time

stop the spinning

I am the world
for I took a deep breath
and whenever I let the spirit out I can be anything and its opposite, too.

I am an actor who falls asleep on stage, a poet who discards his words, a mother who feeds on her own children, a bird that picks up a straw only to see whether it was a snake or not, a piece of stone that roams away from the hill, a drop of rain that is inspired to go back to the cloud... a misplaced fury behind the rainbow...

a wipe of wind that smashes them all over again...

and so I do inhale again

yesterday

I'm sorry to interrupt this interesting flow of discussion about various Christmas and Santa Claus customs in various countries. I will go on with that topic, I promise.

But yesterday I wrote this and as a writer-documentarist with a proper sense of duty I felt obliged to take note of my feelings.

Here they are with a photo by Szabolcs:

I feel like having inhaled over too much of life recently. I'm changed and the alterations inspire, encourage, accelerate and frighten me. I have met the other side these days. The one that has always been there, a silent and constrained companion, that is.

I've taken too much into me and I feel like exploding any minute now. Or might just get some sleep. Let's hope that some rest will save me. Pray that it saves me.

I was just thinking about love - Christmas is coming my friends

Santa Claus has arrived this morning. My son cleaned all the shoes we wear nowadays (4 shoes altogether) and after letting them dry out, we placed them carefully in the window. That is where the presents are foound this morning. It is the Santa Claus that brings the presents on 6 December. (photo below depicts my son in the morning when we discover the sweets and delicacies in the window - photo was made on 6 December, 2005 by me)

Did you know that the story originates from St Michael, a Russian nobleman, who pleased and surprised the kids of the poor with little presents and food? He used to wear WHITE clothes in the big Russina winter - no wonder, just imagine you do not want to be seen by so as to make it a surprise... You would not want to wear RED which is so clearly visible, would you in your normal mind?

So why does Santa Claus wear red all over the globe now?

Yeah, it's business.

As red catches the eye more aptly.

As people notice it quicker. As red is a sign to accelerate your level of adrenalin. Do not meditate over the niceness of the late Michael's goodwill and proper deeds.

Do not immerse yourself into thinking.

It's business, I told ya.

Go and get something. You need something. You do. Even if you don't.

All right, you don't, but it is ME who is in desperate NEED OF MORE MONEY. MONEY. MONEY.

Forget about love. It's money, honey.

(above there is a devil made of cake. We received from one of our friends as a Santa Claus surprise fro the kids in 2005.)

Advent activities

in our home include the making of a special Advent ring. I buy a standard non-decorated hay ring at the market and the family (me, my husband and two kids) decorate it at home according to our taste and to what we have at home. We often collect leaves and dried flowers. Sometimes we make the candles, too, from bee's wax sheets. This year I bought nice candles along with the hay ring, but the rest of the decoration is based our collection. We made it on 30 November. My son had hard times waiting for the first candle to be lit this past Sunday - he was eager to see the flames. He exclaimed that this is how a perfect Andvent ring should look like. I'm happy to having seen him content with what he'd done.

So here it is:

I think its bordering perfection :)

Another Advent activity for the kids is to see and wait for the doors of the Advent home to become unlocked per each morning. This little house was done by my husband and by my then 2 yo son years ago. The house itself is a small house with exactly 24 doors. Each year during the Advent, morning by morning another door opens and the kids find something nice and edible inside. It is the miracle of angels for them. Should they ask whether we put the sweets in there, we would kindly tell them the truth. But not before they need the truth. It is part of their childhood, so as is the magical appearance of presents under the tree at Christmas Eve. We tell them that as long as they believe in angels it is the angels that bring them presents; sweet delicacies and toys, books and such.

At school, kids surprise each other with presents, too. The teacher writes the names of each kid on a paper and the kids, one after another takes one piece of paper, thus deciding who will surprise who at the school Santa Claus event. This takes place on 6 December.

once again

remembering 23 October 1956-2006...

this is a video link I received a day ago. I know it's past the time, but there are English subtitles to the film so that you can have a better look at the situation...

conversations in the mist

Enter the forest, come, come, my dear. The Keeper of Fire is awaiting. She calls your name.

---

'Welcome back' the monster said with a contorted smile on his face. 'It's not you' I said him peacefully. Interrupted in his anger, the monster stopped howling for a while, then omitted another growl. Its claws fizzled in the light. 'No, it's not your real you' - I went on.

This undoubtedly seemed to disturb him. The air shook around him and quick as a butterfly he disappeared into the think forest.

But soon I heard him shouting 'Don't you fear me? - 'Fear me!' - 'Cause if you fear me not... the voice turned into a burble. 'What if I fear you not' I asked. For the first time I challenged the monster. 'Pray tell me what if I fear you not.'

'You'll loose yourself.'

'No, I won't, cause my real self will not ever loose me.'

---

Feed me no sweet chocolates, creams and such, for my toung has no taste and desire for such delicacies. Feed me on bitter, on the sharpest leaves ever produced by the Earth. That is what will do.

---

'You can never really leave the road, the one you have deliberately put your feet on.' - he argued.

'No way. It's not the traveller who sets his feet on the path - it's the path that chooses the traveller.' - I said.

---

All photos made by me on October 28, 2005.

thoughts from a mother

This week we are going to the second session of kineziology (sp?) with my son. The first one was about a month ago. He liked that the lady told him things his parents use to say - if you hear it from a different source it all sounds better, doesn't it?

I think the first session was successfull - he no longer seemed to reject the idea of going to school on a daily basis. I wish the second one would be successful, too. As a mother I know he needs more encouragement. He is apt to repress and despise his personal abilities. He does not make friendship easily. He is looking for something real and sure, something he can really rely on and trust. At the same time he seeks to be loved and accepted.

He is so much like I was as a kid. But I'd wish to save him from all those pains I experienced. Being alone in a crowd, having noone to turn to, watching easy-going kids having fun, staying away from the light people... Wanting to have some fun too, but not trying to get involved into something that does not hold the promise of a real love. Not easy. I must teach him more to let him enjoy life, to avoid letting him not enjoy it, just as I did not enjoy it... I am unsure, as I am not at the end of the process of evolving either. But I'd love to see him happy...

The drawing was made by my daughter in 2004.

Late fall chores

We've been busy working in the garden these weekends. The firewood has arrived and we first had to make room for it by rearranging the old (dried) firewood to some other placeto make room for the fresh one, whch is not suitable for instant use. It takes a year to dry it out. So after clearing the storage we had to transport the fresh wood with a wheelbarrow to there and chop it up a bit. This is done partly because fresh wood cuts MUCH better and partly b/c cut up wood dries better, too. We've been doing this for hours and for days and days again.

I'm fine - sort of

It appears that the road is empty, but I know it's not.

There are shadows but certainly, the Sun is up there for those who do not forget to open their eyes and unfold their wings.

And for those who like a bit of drama, a bit of twist, and good films in general :) http://www.atomfilms.com/af/content/atom_29

the old shell is worn-out the new one is just about to form

seems that looong titles are my favourites this time of my life, aren't they?
Okay, I am here and try to give some explanation - much needed by myself, too.

me, myself and I? Do I speak too much about myself?

As I think I have just grown up to see that it was high time that the old daughter-father relationship went away. It has not. Distrusts and suspicion have crawled into the little hut we used to built for ourselves.

I feel like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2; when she realizes that she had to strengthen herself to be able to survive.

I feel like I have to stop whining about any loss I suffered - not that I did that too much...

I witnessed my transformation with awe, as much of the things I changed within myself was of my use and benefit. I know this. And I am thankful for the person who had the courage to help me, a belief in me and an uttermost love towards me - all those feature do still exist.

That makes it harder.

For my part, I love him, too. But....

I feel my emotions shattered. We do not seem to have enough quality time together to make the love real again. I am scared to say that the fire has gone cause it has not. Or not really. What happened during my stay in Holland was not the reason for our not being well together - it was just a shock that has woken me up. It was high time we faced this.

Why? Why I say these things and think like that? How will it end?

I am into finding myself. The grown-up woman. Sounds trivial? Life is at its bests...and worsts... Signs like The Tower might tell something. That I am unable to behave as I used to yet I am bounded by habits, too. That I feel frustrated - the feeling I have been experiencing from early this year on... living in a golden cage, where everything seems perfect. Not in the way you find the same symbol in various literatures such as in Ibsen's A doll's house (Nora), but yet...

The want to break free seemed pointless at the same time. I love this mam he loves me - why? Why want anything else when everything's so fucking perfect? We are told to be the match made in heaven. So again, why? What is wrong with me?

Is it me who is wrong? The things I have lost and have given up are mainly bullshits I know. But somehow I feel I have lost something that was entirely me. Why do I have to think like this at all? Why am I not content with the present?

Can someone possibly share some self-confidence? To ignite the strength I know I have in me? I prefer not accepting help, though. It is a task I must do all by myself. And with the love I have within. I might fall... I will stand up.

Growing up: slow and not without some pains, apparently

but before making the title way too long I stopped writing to the 'title line'. Nevertheless, I think I/we have reached the core of the problems or one of the most important problems of my/our life. It was always there, slowly emergin as we slowly became aware of the situation... Taking responsibility, understanding one's real values and faults, yet being able to survive, accepting ourselves as we really are is part of growing up.

There are times when I am so tired of circulating an idea in my head that just nothing comes out of it. Nothing new. And still, this is what I got when I tried the 'which Tarot card are you' test. I like tests. The result was somewhat shocking:

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

a day off in the Alps

Okay, it's been a long time since my last entry. Time is going by rapidly over here. How about you? My visits abroad gave me long-lasting experiences. When I was in The Netherlands, our relationship between my husband and me took an unexpected turn. Let this be enough for today. I would not be able to explain it and there's nothing I've seen/read/heard of that ever comes any near to what I've experienced/went through. We are okay, sort of, by now and that is what matters.

When in Italy, I enjoyed the event and the scenery. I think I still owe you some of the photos I made in the Alps.

Here they are, with the story behind. All the following photos were made on October 28, 2006.

This is the train station of Fossano. Fossano is a small town, this is where almost all the Hungarian delegates to the Terra Madre event were hosted. It took a 1.5 hour-ride to Limone, which is about 40kms from the French-Italian border.

This is now Limone (yes, it DOES mean lemon in English). Funnily enough, there's a smaller town nearer to the border, which is called Limonetto (and yes, it means 'small lemon'....). Limone looks like a nice small town for tourists who like hiking in the Alps.

Hiking roads start not far away from the centre, as the town is located in a narrow valley. The hills are very close. We started in one of the trails and soon found ourselves* here.

(*I went with a friend of mine, who was also a delegate. She is a mother of 3 and is a geologist.)

Isn't this a magnificient view? I loved how more and more faraway hills unfolded in front of our very eyes just by having gotten higher in the mountain... When we are down in the valley, close to the everyday burdens, no matter how sweet those can be, we can not see far. It is only when we get high enough that we get to see those out-of-reach beauties that do exist among us...

Speaking of beauties, here's one - a lizard. Can you spot her/his face?

We did not have much time for hiking, though. We went uphills for like 2 or 3 hours and had to descend before dusk settles. This is how high we got.

I love the different colours of the autumn. It was early afternoon and the Sun was up. Our trail down was nonetheless inspiring - full of colours, no people around... Just the air between heavens and you...

Have I told you that I have a strong affection towards hills? Just because they are there and as they are. This love did not start here. It started back many years ago, probably when I first saw real, big hills. When I was a kid, my parents often took me to a hilly area which was about two-hours drive from our hometown. There we would spend the day beside a mountain creek playing, barbequing... Later on, back in 1991, my heart was captured forever by the thing called The Medicine Wheel. I became hopelessly addicted to mountains, which I don't mind at all. I do not pursue them, do not seek them in every possible occassion. I love them in a much more subtle and stronger way.

There is a Museum of Mountains in Torino. The entrance fee was as much as 6 Euros (this is a bit high for me) but I said yes to the temptation. The museum itself was not as much as I thought it would be, but there was a qoutation I knew was worth the fee. I am still looking for it. It was about the burning love for the hills. To look for them, to never really turn one's back at them. To have an inexplicable and so human love, a non-human and yet so natural love towards them. Or something along these ideas.

Finally, we did have to leave the hills - I bid farewell by washing the dirts and sweat of the hard uphill hiking off in a mountain river. Yes, it was VERY cold. And I loved it.

This is me, looking for a suitable bathroom in the river :))) Later on, we found a little convent in the village. This is something you find everywhere, isn't it? No, I'm kidding. But yes, this was a small prayer house of no special interest as per tourist books. Yet - isn't this an architectural gem?

With real slates on the roof.... I like how the different types of textures show in the following picture:

And finally, we made it to the centre again, as we had to take the train back to Fossano. We had a one hour stroll in the centre to discover the place. We had a nice icecream in a bar. I enjoyed the sights in the shops and being quite proud of the only (half) sentence I know in Italian I said it out loudly to the workers of this shop:

... molto spettacolo... (very spectacular) I think there should be a substantive verb in the sentence as well, but I warned you that I only know half sentences. The workers were delighted nonetheless at my being able to speak a little Italian.

We caught the train in time and arrived back at our hotel just in time for the evening meal. We had a great day-off.

gone with the dust

a naked UPDATE on 10 November:

I am happy now as more and more of my virtual fellow blogers, friends come and see me here and comment on this thing below I published on 8 November. I am happy that you liked it. I intended it to be a lyrics for a song that has not been yet composed. I intended to depict a feeling I often have, but appearantly my English is kind of misleading. But as long as you like it I don't really mind it. I felt and captured the feeling and you felt something else instead. If you have time, please feel free to comment on this part, too.

so here it comes -

Gone With The Dust

I've been up for long
just to see the minutes pass
I've been up for late at night
just to see the hours pass

I've been watching for the hands to move
tick-tock tick-tock
I've been watching for the sound it made
tick-tock tick-tock

Hours came and went by
they found me with eyes settled on the clock
seasons came and went by
they found me sitting by the window
waiting for the time to pass

And I saw flocks of crows passing by
their gray feathers filled up the room
a long way they came and so did they went away
the gray dust they left behind filled up my soul

And yet I was but an empty vessel
sticking to watching and waiting
nothing ever really touched me
remaining calm, watching and waiting

I kept waiting for soething that never came
the clock kept ticking
I kept seeing no road but the goal that could never be achieved
the clock kept ticking

the clock keeps ticking...
the clock keeps ticking...
the clock keeps ticking...

Terra Madre 2006

This event is HUGE.

At the first, in 2004 I felt that it's so good to be around with people all around the world who share similar thoughts. The feeling of not being alone in thinking about a certain way about environment, agricultural management, our mankind's future. It was encouraging to see those people from all over the world, to feel that we have something in common and that is that we wish to save this planet by the acts we do, by traditional agriculture and craftsmanship.

This year, the event for me was more about the actual steps one can do in his/her community. Education and projects for the general public, farm visits and so on.

For more official information go to the official site of Terra Madre here.

But you should also check the blog about Terra Madre here, it gives you more a personal insight into what's this all about.

And don't forget to visit some of Vandana Shiva's contributions.

She is my hero. This is her at the closing ceremony.

This is one of the signs that we, the modern world as we know it have to leave soon.

On aboard

When we got off at Budapest, it was hardly about Sunrise on a late October morning. Later on, in the air the Sun got up above the clouds and broke through the mist.

We flew high over the Alps through Austria and Italy. Those white swirls are clouds sitting below the peaks of mountains. They do look like boiling white cream soups, though.
An hour and 35 minutes later, map-like structures unfolded near Milano (Milan), Italia (Italy). The smaller the fields the more attractive the landscape is to the eye and the better is the management for the environment...it's so obvious to all who are aware of the future...
Landing was as easy as was the flight. This photo was captured at the minute the wheels touched the ground at Milano.

with fractured mental sanity
I balanced my soul on a featherweight plank
over hissing swamps and cold morasses
there were moments when there was nothing in vision
fearing the stumble I stopped
I stopped breathing, seeing, hearing, touching and feeling

and when I disconnected myself from life
Life approached me with a beam
I was hardly visible but mighty
strengthened and armoured with love
the real, the unconditional and the perpetual
I knew I was saved
yet-
I knew the tempest was not completed
but I was no longer vulnerable
the ground kept shaking, winds kept roaming
and I hold my clinches tight

Finally, I think I survived
and I even dreamt about the fight

which was no longer a fight
but a heap of fists, eyes, kisses and cries
a bundle of fallen leaves that is part of the autumn
- which inevitably, will be retouched by the winter

Take care, I'm leaving the scenery for the time being
got my stand, my life, my love
got my seeds to take care of
and I'm waiting for the coming of the Sun

I'm back but have no time to write

This is the River Po at Turin (Torino), Italy. The photo was made on 27 October.

I hope I will have time to post some more photos as I have many. And many of them are really good.

The event I attended was interesting and inspiring, too.

We had time for some walk in the city and we decided to spend one of the days hiking in the Alps.

farewell for a few days

Dear friends, I'm going away to Turin (Torino), Italy, for the Terra Madre event.

I will be back on 31 October... Until that, I present you this:

state police vs people

Political, again.

I don't know what to say. I was not there on the streets last night, but I feel I should have been. The 50th anniversary of the 1956 revolution - what an inspiration and what a coincidence (ok, you all must be knowing by know that I do not believe in coincidence :))

People have been protesting on the streets since mid September, when the man who gained his position by deceit in 2002 admitted that he and his fellow bastards have been lying in the morning, at noon and in the evening ever since...

The problem is 1.) he is not the only one who is doing wrong to the country and to the nation - his removal would not solve anything. 2.) More than half of the people of my country are either too lazy to care, or still believe that these bunch of assholes are suitable for governing a country.

This last evening, people were gathering to celebrate the 50th anniversary. These people did not go to the official celebrations, because they refused to share grounds with those whose or whose ancestors were (literally or actually) on the other side of the barricades 50 years ago.

People were gathering peacefully and then came the police with water guns, cavalry and rubber guns (I don't know how its called: it's a gun that shoots plastic things).

I had the chance to watch the tv and I watched the official* and the national* tv as well.

(by official I mean the media that pictures those events and in the manner that is suitable, acceptable and advised by the G'ment) and by national I mean the media that shows what is going on in reality. I'm with the latter - should any of you have any doubts about my political whereabouts.... heh?)

So the official media spoke about the police having to make this and that road clean. (As if those people, among whom could have easily been me, were some nasty insects or mud, or something equally dirty.) The national media displayed that the people are going wherever the police allows them to go.)

Foreign tourists and onlookers were also harmed. The police has gone out of control and have gotten way to much under control, by the present G'ment.

Don't believe to the general, official media. Its all in their hands.

If you want to see the real events, go here, although every video speaks Hungarian. This is a page where you can choose among videos that depict the events of the day and night.

Part of me would like to go out and scream against the regime, to make people wake up and scream, too. To shatter the bondage of lies, to make people aware of what's going on. Part of me would like to sit by the kids at home and watch other people do this for themselves, for us, for the nation.