ready?

I have an hour of laptop battery at the airport of Liverpool. An hour doesn't seem enough to write down all the thoughts that are running through my head. 

I should be ready. Life has given me 4 days to get ready for this moment. Getting ready to see my bestfriend in the eyes without crying. Getting ready to see the dramatic results of an earthquake that some say it could have been foreseen. Getting ready to help, to be there when I will be needed. Be ready to continually realise that I am not the one that could actually make a difference. ONLY humanity together can make a difference. ONLY when humanity continues this dance of love will be closer to what it is meant to be, only then there can be a difference. The dance of love that is the reflection of THE True Love. 

This earthquake has already transformed me, together with the lives of many. But my language needs to change. It isn't an earthquake, it isn't a loss, it isn't a trauma that should define my change, my identity, my life, our life. These are events we can't control, we can't even predict. So what is it then? Could it be our nature, designed by God, that is limitlessly growing, moving, thinking, adapting, evolving, and loving? If it was the event in itself, we would all change in the same way. We wouldn't have people that try to make a profit out of people's poverty. You see criminals trying to steal jewellery from the destroyed houses, selling goods ten times their normal price, just because they can. You see people who are able not to care about the suffering. So it can't be the thing in itself. Like I don't believe that a person who isn't as able to hear, or walk is directly defined by what this person can or cannot do. So what is it?

The beauty of this search of mine is that I am constantly looking for an answer, but I need to live in the paradox that may be the search for the answer is the answer in itself, or the answer is so intertwined in who I strictly am that I can only 'find' it by living, in connection with all the rest of the world who is or isn't looking for the answer. It's us. It's our humanity, whatever that might mean.

I need to learn to sit with this. I am learning to accept the questions that will only bring more and more questions. And be happy with it. And live.

I already feel like I've grown 3o years older. A week ago I couldn't think about anything but my birthday. Since Monday it all feels a different thing. Priorities have changed, life has changed. I have changed, in such a way that I am hoping now to remember the actual day of my birthday, and deeply hoping that on that day I will be doing everything BUT concentrating on ME, MY life, as I would have done in previous years. On my birthday the biggest gift would be to learn to be outside of myself, to get out of this self-centredness to be able to see the humanity of others. To become so vulnerable to let others be vulnerable in their own right. Because I'm continuing to think that it is in the core of our vulnerability that lies our real strength. Someone said it to me once. And for as much as this sounds like a conclusion for somebody else, this is actually the biggest starting point of my quest. A question, a principle that lives with me, in me, that drives my actions, my thoughts and my decisions. And I think it will be the constant principle in my head while I will have the privilege to be in Abruzzo, to see that disaster that I am trying to grasp on the internet. 

I am losing track of my own thoughts, as usual. But I feel more ready. More ready for that kind of thing that nobody on this earth could possibly be able to get ready to live. 

I am here. In the now. A result of my past and the potential for the future that could happen. And in this presence I sit with this question.

A thought goes to all those angels who have walked this journey so far with me, in one way or another. In the good and in the less-good. Humans who have been able to see my vulnerability through this painful process. Humans who have held my hand, sometimes carried me, sometimes guided me, sometimes helping me to fall, sometimes just sitting with me in my pain.

Thank you.