Today, let me introduce myself.
I may seem Venetian, but I was born in Naples, an event of which I am exceptionally proud and proud, and which imposes a sort of “philosophy of belonging” on me, as I certainly do not believe in chance.
And I don’t believe in the horoscopes in the newspapers, but I consider astrology to be an important knowledge that can significantly illuminate certain aspects of our being.
About thirty-five years ago, a talented astrologer, exploring my natal chart, told me, “Madam, you may have noticed that… things happen in your life. It’s not your fault, you know? I have been studying astrological charts for over twenty years, and rarely have I seen such a cluster of fire…”.
That’s what it’s about: I am a Leo with Leo rising, Moon in Leo, Venus in Leo, and everything else cheerfully in Sagittarius or Aries. With one minor planet, all alone and lost – like a sodium particle – in a less demanding area.
The friendly astrologer told me many other things that I, a confident twenty-eight-year-old, still didn’t understand and certainly didn’t want to admit, but now, looking back, I can only recognize them.
Heaven knows how much trouble I caused in my first forty years! And perhaps the overwhelming baggage of fire that I carry with me is not a sufficient justification. Let’s say that my extreme impetuosity has caused disasters and has given me no small amount of humiliation and regret. For years, I lived paralyzed by a sense of guilt for being who I was, wanting only to amputate the “pieces” that I felt were most dangerous. I remain whole, but overall, I don’t think I am a person who shirks responsibility or lacks the courage to face my actions, however reckless they may be.
Among the fiery ruins of my “youthful” image, I still recognize and thank that passion, that audacity, that reckless boldness for seizing opportunities by jumping into the fire, for intense and terribly unhappy loves, for overcoming obstacles with a push, for relentlessly pursuing my voice, for the moments of absolute beauty that Music has given me.
Today, I am very patient with others and serene with myself (as the astrologer had told me: it will get better after fifty!), calmer and even reflective. But “My beautiful fire, whether near or far, how can I be myself without changing ever…” is still there, burning and potentially destructive.
Fire, in short. Fortunately, over the years, instead of continuing to start dangerous fires, I have learned to use it as an energy source. Instead of opening my mouth wide and emitting uncontrollable flames, I have chosen to make my voice a vehicle for sharing and smiling.
Dealing with me has been exhausting and often impossible for years, and it remains a challenging activity today. Therefore, I wholeheartedly thank those who manage to do it with all my fiery heart.
However, I now struggle to adapt to those who cannot tolerate the rhythm, do not appreciate warm climates, do not practice random acts of beauty, do not give everything for love, and do not take risks without a safety net. And no, I do not criticize anyone who, at sixty, wants to retire their head and knees. I don’t expect others to follow my reckless path, and I don’t feel superior to those who don’t leave the house more than necessary.
At eighteen, I read Joyce but was afraid of anyone’s judgment. Now I can recite Saba by heart and travel the world because “The harbour lights its lamps for others. I am still driven by the untamed spirit, and the painful love of life.”