Mountain Girl

Just last Friday night I passed by Tuschinsky with my future husband Driek and there was a display of dutch celebrity for the Premier of "Music and Lyrics" with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore as guests of honor.
We decided to wait for a while and enjoy the "not so glamorous dutch scene". The crowd was nice and we had a good time while we were waiting for the two stars to appear and walk along the red carpet.

Suddenly the moments comes, the police and security closed down the road, we were comfortably standing when out of the blue two young dutch/Surinam girls started heavily pushing against me and holding their cheap cellular camera in front of me, practically sticking their elbow in my nose.

I felt annoyed and turn around to tell the one next to me not to push. She started screaming in return to go away if I didn't want to be pushed offending me, speaking surprisingly in my mother tongue, in a real poor Italian. I stood there and told them to stop being so nasty when in a split of a second I found myself with one hand around my throat and long nails piercing in my skin, another hand was flying across my face so heavily for couple of times that I was almost knocked unconscious, if it were not for Driek holding me and preventing the girl to keep slapping me. He got one hand, inclusive with nail, straight into the corner of his eye. Eventually he managed to grasp her wrist and stopped her. She turn around and flew away with her friend.
I was in shock and in tears, my head was hurting, pounding and my throat was burning and coughing for air.

No one noticed anything!
Police, security and the crowd focused on Hugh Grant and Barrymore walking just a meter away from us.

"Do you know Hugh that I got punched as I was calmly looking forward to see you? And I am not even your fan......but I always like your British humor. This time though it sticked to my throat and it didn't make me laugh".

It made me vomit, I felt so absolutely ignored, and the hurt went deeper then the scars I was left on my face for days after.

Is God testing me in my compassion?
I don't know. I can only say I was lucky I didn't fall and people stepped over me, but then perhaps I would have had few line the day after, in the Parool newspaper!!

Sometimes Amsterdam is an absolute bummer and sometimes I hate to be living here.

Labels: Amsterdam

"Holy Cow" is the title of a book from Australian writer Sarah Macdonald.
And "India my love" would be the title of my book if I would write one about my experiences in India.

I enjoy very much reading about my dear country where I spent so many years hardly outside the gate of Osho Commune International, although I didn't like her style of writing, the cynicism about herself, about the land that hosted her and about the Indian people.
I was never really backpacking through India, however, I visited quite few beautiful places especially Himachal Pradesh and Utter Pradesh, Gangotri, Rishikesh, Dharamsala, McLeod Gunj, and of course Goa, being just one night bus ride away from mad Poona. Goa was for us sannaysin the holiday resort from our "spiritual life" in the Ashram. Moreover I can say that my focus of search was definitely more "the inside". That is why I feel so good in the mountains, whether they are the Himalayan stunning height or the sensuous beauty of the Maddalene mountain in my valley in Italy. You are left alone when you go inside yourself, and you are alone when you climb the mountain top.

Sarah has all along a bitter taste and incredible alienating sense of doubts and utter dryness. She makes one step forward in the discovery of her inner world and two backwards, exchanging faith and trust with anger and resentment and back to doubt. But yet again, how to define success or failure in the journey to oneself?
By the way, is this the Australian way? Then I am glad I don't live there.
They may have incredible space in the vastness of their country, as she often describes it in her book but I guess even there you can lose your way, inside and outside.

However she has a sense of humor or in fact sarcasm that brings some lightness to the "all too serious spiritual seeker" if only they would read her book. Amongst the many adventures to find some peace of heart, she describes with utter nudity the intense agony of a mind that doesn't want to give up control in every sense and its constant judgements.
But after all who am I to criticise her experience, I fought already enough, against all of the New Age bullshit, and the self declared "only path to God", like the Miracle of Love cult, that I am left with a good belly laughter and a deep sense of being rooted in myself and my own belief. I can take another way of rebellion too!!

There is another book on the subject that touched truly my heart. The author Tiziano Terzani (Tuscany 1938-2004) an Italian journalist and writer tells in his book "Un Altro Giro Di Giostra" his experience around the world and especially in India, in search for a cure of the tumor that effects him.
Instead he finds himself.
He ends up in Himalayan writing it all down in one of the most compelling book about life, death, spiritual journey and acceptance of ones mortality, with no drama and no misery. About him I would like to write more another time. The way he describes his adventure in India would be close to my way. Maybe because he was Italian, maybe because I love Tuscany too, but his depths mixed in with an healthy and familiar sense of humor brought a smile and tears to my heart. Also I believe too, to quote him: Peace need to be found inside.

India my love

Below you can see a picture of me and my darling aja, my cleaning lady, Mary in the garden of my house in Poona. She spent many hours the 31 of December 1988 braiding my hair for the N.Y.party, drinking chai together and chatting about womens matter. How much I loved her to be just the way she was, so very Indian and a catholic one too.

Labels: books, Miracle of Love, Mountain, Osho