Sunday speech (english)

La mia settimana tipo e' cosi' articolata
LUNEDI
ore 6. Sveglia
ore6.30.Colazione
ore 7. Partenza
ore 8. Inizio lavoro
ore 10. Break time
ore 10.15. Lavoro
ore 12.30 Pranzo
Ore 13. Lavoro
ore 15. Break time
Ore 17.30. Clean up time
Serata libera

MARTEDI
ore 5.45 Sveglia
ore 6. LAB. (meditazione in silenzio)
ore 7. Colazione
Ore 7.30. Partenza
ore 8. Inizio lavoro
ore 10. Break time
ore 10.15. Lavoro
ore 12.30 Pranzo
Ore 13. Lavoro
ore 15. Break time
Ore 17.30.Clean up time
ore 19.30 FORMAL DINNER

MERCOLEDI
(vedi lunedi)

GIOVEDI
ore 6. Sveglia ore
6.30.Colazione
ore 7. Partenza
ore 8. Inizio lavoro
ore 10. Break time
ore 10.15. Lavoro ore
12.30 Pranzo Ore 13. Lavoro
ore 15. Break time
Ore 17.30. Clean up time
Ore19.30 FORMAL DINNER

VENERDI
(Vedi lunedi, con LAB)

SABATO
ore 8 sveglia
ore 8.30 colazio
ore 9. ACTING CLASS
ore 10. Pulizie di casa
ore 11. Partenza
ore11.30 Lavoro
ecc...

DOMENICA
Day off
ORE 19.30. FORMAL DINNER

La vita di comunita' non lascia molto spazio ai momenti personali.
Spesso faccio fatica a trovare dei momenti solo per me.
In silenzio.
Ma ci sono alcuni aspetti di questa vita condivisa che la rendono interessante.
Cosa e' il LAB, cosa sono le formal dinner....lo spieghero'. Chi e' il pruducer....
In particolare alla dfomenica ognuno si alza in piedi e racconta quello che gli pare.
E' un momento in cui tutti ascoltano tutti.
Domenica scorsa ho letto questo pezzo.



At the end of this day I layed in the last minutes of sun.
Trying to breath in the green of the grass.
It couldn't be greener.
Lighted by the same sun I left on the ocean few kilometres before.
i have still in my nose the smoke of the noisy car that drove me here.
The 3 black guys sitting on the the seats covered by black and white cow leather didn't say a word.
They kept drinking beer hoping the car would start again.
Noisily.
The last noise of my day.
A day of sounds.
The sound of the steps on the black asphalt.
The sound of the water.
The water declare itself before you see it.
Little creeks coming from nowhere and crossing my way.
I carefully jump on a couple of stones leaving the water behind me.
Or better.
Leaving the creeks behind me.
The water was gone exactly in the moment I saw it.
Warm midday sun on my black coat.
I should unwear it.
i stopped.
I took my coat and my jumper off.
I was sweating.
More lonely steps along the lonely road.
Is this my way?
Sounds of nothing.
The stones. The rocks.
They don't talk.
What would they say?
"I feel heavy today"
Bilions of years without a single sound.
Or maybe just the one of the only fall.
Sound of the sharp steps of a horse coming.
Softly the dog runs ahead looking at the horizon of its low world.
One more creek.
One more.
Water sliding on the bottom of the dry rocky landscape.
It will be green and yellow soon.
I go a bit more.
I wish to hear the sound of his voice.
It's sweet and calm.
It comes out from the desert of his mouth.
A couple of teeth.
Enough to be still able to whistle.
This is my instrument.
I can play it everywhere I go.
DO you want to know a secret?
Yes, but it's a secret.
Women are 8 times more sensual than men.
So they are 8 times ahead.
When you think you have a woman undercontrol...she is 8 times forward.
Find the way to be yourself.
See in the others what they are and not what you think of them.
They'llsee in youi what you expect them to be.
And be patient.
In the silence of his cold cave he smiled.
All his life on his face.
The moonish view between his eyes and the ocean.
My next sound.
Steps on my black shadow.
Hiding the path I had to follow.
But it shoulod be up there.
That is what they told me.
After the second creek turn right.
I jumped, I climbed.
I heard one more sound.
Burned flowers anmd burned trees breaking under my feet.
It must be behinf those huge stones.
Just up there.
I run, I go.
I wonna see it.
One more.
One more.
Here we go.
Blue silent ocean on a frame of bright and dry dust.
I wonder how it looks in the moon light.
Do you want to come with me?
It must be AMWASOME.
I want to hear that blue.
I run slowly
scared and happy.
Sweating and burning.
I ended my fast race downhill in the garden of a couple of freinds smoking a joint ocean view.
I walked along all the backyards of cosy houses.
Dogs in line waiting to bart at my passage.
Dogs of different sizes and races.
But dogs.
Few more metres.
It's there.
I hear the waves.
They come to shore showing the last metres of curling beauty of the ocean.
Exploding the sound they kept for thousands od silent movements,
Ciao Dario.
Who knows me?
Is it the ocean so polite?
Ciao Dario he said.
As soon as I stepped on his doorway
I sat
I tryed to listen the peaceful sound of the music inside.
It must be rock.
Rock your soul man.
It's all good.
And grass can always be greener.
Breath it all.
And listen.