Fire of Transformation

Sometimes I become afraid, doubts surface, I think I may go mad, but our so-called normal society seems even more insane. Most people take a powerful drug on a daily basis that creates a strong addiction: the television screen, nourishing themselves with contrived fantasies, useless panel games, sport. Some spend thousands on buying a couture dress or a car, while at the same time so many millions are dying in the Third World.

I want to take a risk, to go 'on the road', like a pilgrim, or a beggar. I am thirsty for truth and for real love, but at least at present my life is joyful, full of warmth and friendship, of human exchange, of adventure.

We move around the city wearing our beautifully coloured clothes, endeavouring to give a message to the people, a message of freedom and creativity, of fresh hope. We have plans to construct alternative villages on the planet based on universal love, practical steps, whereas in the past our political movement has just been an act of great passion.

Sometimes there are difficulties to be faced, lazy people in our groups, parasites, people who escape from the responsibility of life into morphine and other heavy drugs, but one day we shall overcome. I know that we are the pioneers for a new world. In the meantime we are learning to help each other, to share everything, money, a house, a job or a business, friends and love, much love, again and again; it's the discovery of a new solidarity, a new human co­operation.

Formentera, 4 July 1971

I am here with Giuliano and Dinni, on this tiny Spanish island where hippies from all over the world have come to find new purpose in their lives. The island is arid, sunny, homely, with wonderful little beaches and the sea turquoise-blue. The landscape is flat and many people move around on bicycles, the houses are small and white, rather like Greece and on some of the walls people have written the forbidden word: 'LSD'. The three of us spend all day by the sea only eating fruits, nourishing ourselves with the energy of the sun and in the evening eating some brown rice. We have decided to take LSD together.

29 July 1971

The experiment with acid has been a huge revelation for me, I have seen all my past lives, or at least I thought I could see them. I had the experience of having been a thousand beings and that now I can be at one with everybody and everything if I can just expand my consciousness. At the end of the experience I saw only light, a blazing, white light enveloping all of reality. I feel a cosmic consciousness breathing through the universe and through myself. Dinni has also undergone a similar experience and Giuliano had visions of certain Christian saints.

We bathe naked on the beach in absolute innocence. Having sex is not so important any more, but we are thirsty for our fantastic, spiritual visions. I sensed an unknown voice talking to me from inside my body and telling me I should leave everything behind and go to India. It frightens me and yet I am also really tempted by the call. This island resembles a laboratory where people experiment with the light of the soul on a high frequency. Suddenly I perceive the magic of a new energy within myself, guiding my life.

Milan, 25 September 1971

On my return home I hurried to Brera once again in the evening to meet everybody and share my new discoveries. Piero and Claudio are visiting the community and have shown me some photographs of their Tibetan teachers, standing close to the snow-covered Himalayan peaks. There is something about the images that is both remote and familiar at the same time. When Piero and Claudio come to visit me in 'Via Mayr' they impress me, because I recognize something very serious and concentrated in them that is not present in other people, a special depth. Piero made love with me the other day in a soft, gentle way, detached, as if it were a strange meditation. They asked me if I would like to go to India with them, soon.

Last week we organized a huge, underground rock concert at 'Ballabio', in the countryside. We gathered all our hopes and all our songs: old revolutionary and anarchist songs, the American ones and our new repertory, Claudio sang Magic Fly. The concert turned into a huge gathering of people and in the night fires were lit and sitting around them I saw the new tribe of earth' s people: the Indians, the Tibetans, the freaks, the students, the artists, the musicians, the politicians, the journalists, all sitting together, like ancient gypsies looking for a new land. So many friends were present and their eyes were transparent, full of light and love and I sat around the many fires, to talk, or just share the presence, communion on a common path.

15 November 1971

I am working in the experimental kindergarten I organized with Giuliano's help, but I'm finding out that it's not easy for me to work with the children. We want to give them maximum freedom and fantasy, instead of repressing them with an orthodox, heavy-handed authority, but it's a difficult task. The children are very restless and I don't feel mature enough for this job.

I lead a crazy life not regulated by time, never eating or sleeping regularly, always meeting up with friends until late in the night. Gianni now lives with me and has transformed my room into an oriental shop, filling it up with clothes he is buying from Turkey and Afghanistan. Quite often there are four or five other people sharing the carpet on the floor with me to sleep on.

We continue to experiment with LSD and Piero has taught me some Tibetan and Indian prayers, which I have begun to repeat, and I even teach them to the children in the kindergarten. I still feel uneasy about the idea of God, but I have started to have many visions, seeing beautiful mandalas with perfect colours, hearing incredible music and mysterious voices talking to me. Sometimes I am afraid of going crazy, or becoming addicted to drugs, but at other times I feel I have been initiated into a hidden reality only revealed to a few people, to those who have the courage to risk everything, even their own life. What is certain is that we are looking for knowledge and for the mystery of life and death. Our projects take us so far away from the usual pathways of this world.

I have started to think seriously about going to India, to find the masters of the ancient wisdom, to seek an answer to all the many questions that are arising in me. I'm finding it extremely difficult to travel alone on this psychic path and at times even dangerous. Recently I read a Buddhist book about the life of Milarepa, where this Tibetan yogi explains that it's impossible to reach enlightenment without the help of a guru, without his knowledge.

My life here is exciting in many ways, but I've begun to feel very tired and restless. Something is missing; real love is such a difficult thing to realize. I feel that we are still too deeply involved on the physical level in our search and our minds are in no way clear enough to visualize the truth.

I would like to stop running around, to be able to be quiet for a while, even live alone so as to look deep within myself. We are continually meeting up with each other, over and over again making love, touching each other and talking endlessly, but I feel I want to stop this pattern.

During the day I work in the kindergarten, at night I hardly sleep, I experience so many sad moments in Milan and often I feel exceptionally tired. I am sure that an inner journey has begun, an adventure that is without boundaries, capable of taking me anywhere that is required. When I sit with people, often smoking together in a circle, I exist as if in a dream, and the oriental music, sweet, languid, resounding within me, invites my soul to another dimension. We are being called to be sure, maybe by God! Even though the thought of that is still difficult for me to accept, I'm beginning to believe that it's only Him we are searching for, only Him we want to see.

* * *

Trip to India

Milan, 5 March 1972

Today I am leaving for India and I'm really frightened. I made the decision all of a sudden when I discovered that Piero and Claudio were going. Gianni wants to come as well so that he can start up some sort of business buying and selling clothes.

A few nights ago we were sitting in the big community room in the commune with the dome of yellow brocade in the centre: Angelo, Tiziani, Serena, Gianni, Zizi and Marco, a group of friends lying on the carpet with a Joan Baez record playing. Angelo started to make sexual advances towards me again and suddenly I felt as if it was an old theatrical performance, too repetitive, leading nowhere, like one of the narrow, dark streets in Brera at night and it annoyed me.

I felt tired, bored, exhausted as well as feeling unable to find truth or experience real love any more; trying to rediscover it through sex, again and again, is exhausting and a pathetic illusion. Also I'd become tired of smoking dope interminably, even my thoughts seemed smoky and I had no peace of mind. What I would have preferred was to have a place of my own, to be able to take a break and stay somewhere where I could be alone for a while, look within myself. I'd also realized that the work I did with the children in the kindergarten couldn't continue the way it was, I was too restless, confused, not mature enough for such responsibility. Then the other day Piero and Claudio showed me the pictures again of Nepal and the Tibetan masters. I imagined a mysterious and magical place, ancient; it felt like a déja vu experience looking at those photographs. Piero has a special light in his eyes and I wondered if I should follow him.

So, yesterday evening I left my house to sleep with Gianni in his attic flat, in order to decide definitely what to do. As always we slept close together but like brother and sister, like children, and the next morning I went to the travel agents to buy a ticket to India; I secured the last vacant seat on the plane. Tonight we are travelling to London by train and then we will fly to India, to Bombay. I am afraid and who knows if it will work out! People think I've gone mad, because I am leaving behind my job in the kindergarten where I've worked for six months, my loving relationship with Angelo, my house and my friends. I have very little money, no return ticket, no luggage, but even so it still feels right that I should be leaving in this way, taking nothing with me. All I carry is a bag and one dress, the one Gianni brought me from Afghanistan.

Gian Paolo has given me a book entitled, Barefoot in India and whatever the cost to myself I have no doubt that I should just throw myself fully into this adventure. I know I must be extremely courageous to be 'on the road' completely, especially because at times I feel absolutely terrified. Even so I intuitively feel that on the 'other side of the river' I will discover an answer that will make sense of the mystery of my life; that somewhere there is another reality waiting for me. What's the point of living otherwise? Life here in Milan lacks truth and no longer has any meaning for me any more.

The whole situation feels extraordinarily magical as if a wise voice is calling me. In a way it seems that my journey had already begun a few months ago with my first experience of LSD in Formentera. Or maybe it occurred in a more subtle sense with Guiliano in Morocco, sitting on the beach, stringing beads together and watching the gulls flying over the sea. Their flight reminded me about freedom, a freedom that I had forgotten or perhaps never known and now, about to travel to India, I begin to experience those same spontaneous sensations of infinite freedom. I know that I will find the courage to jump into the void and the mystery, to search for and discover some sort of solution, maybe find a teacher.

Last summer in Formentera during my experiences with acid I had visions of many of my past lives as well as a realization of a unified universal consciousness. I envisaged an enormous light comprising of seven perfect colours and saw my soul exiting my body and immersing itself in space. From there I observed the immense flow of life, the lives I have lived, finally realizing that to remain in that state was the all and everything. A voice spoke to me, unequivocally telling me to leave everything behind and depart for India immediately, for a new adventure in consciousness.

The outer journey began by my being in Milan for these last few months; the inner journey involves seeking an answer, perhaps finding a Master.

* * *

Mother India

Bombay, 7 March 1972

Our arrival in Bombay was almost too much for me to take and I wanted to run away. Near the airport there are squalid huts, the weather is incredibly hot, the streets overflowing with people. The hotel is exceedingly dirty and full of hippies from Goa, crazy-looking, fascinating people. Outside the streets are teeming with beggars, lepers and children who tease me all the time, calling me a hippie, or shouting 'Hare Ram, Hare Krishna' in a mocking tone. I feel terribly uneasy, with my long dress, my wild hair; it's a completely different world here, a huge, incredible bazaar and I'm scared. Standing in front of the hotel is a strange hippie, a sort of holy man, with long blonde hair and a beard, dressed in dirty, white clothes and I'm afraid of him as well. I found myself thinking that he could take possession of my mind, and I automatically began to repeat a mantra which Piero had taught me, a prayer to the many Indian gods: 'Hari sharanam, Shiva sharanam, Ram sharanam, Prabhu Krishna sharanam...' - my refuge is in Shiva, in Ram, in Lord Krishna...

It's so terribly hot and I have to constantly fight off a feeling of drowsiness. Everybody is smoking dope in our room and it is hard to resist. We drink copious amounts of boiling hot, milky tea and stuff ourselves with sugary sweetmeats that are very greasy, and I feel nauseous. The restaurants are filthy and I don't like the food at all, everything fried and spicy. I try to console myself a little with some fruit juices, but the beggars standing around me with their hands held out take away all my pleasure. I am afraid to walk down the streets alone and Piero and Claudio laugh and make fun of me; Gianni has already lost himself by taking opium and morphine.

Today I saw a snake charmer; and what impressed me the most were the beggar's eyes, ironic, almost happy, smiling at it all. People here seem to live as if in a dream, in a different kind of reality, with the knowledge that everything is relative, some sort of game. In my mind I compare their faces with those sad and pale faces of the wealthy people I used to see in the mornings on the tram in my home city of Milan, so tense and cold.

11 March 1972

Today I met a group of fascinating people from California, the young men dressed in white clothes and having long hair: they appear to be at home in India, sure of themselves. I also came across Lillo, a young Italian woman who resembles a little magical elf and she encourages me to throw away all of my existing clothes and wear white instead. Then I discovered the 'Rainbow Gypsies', people from every corner of the world, travelling continuously, with little money, almost no luggage and suspect documents. They travel around dancing and singing in the streets; they are very beautiful and rely on the hospitality of others in order to live. There is something magical about the way they live and I find myself enchanted by them.

One of them, Rosa, a striking young Italian woman, walks around with a monkey on her shoulder sucking at her breast, but I am especially attracted to Daniel and Sitaram, two Americans, who even though they are young appear so experienced and wise. I would like to become like them, courageous, fearless, sure of myself and to have the consciousness that they have. I've decided to colour my hair with red henna and have my hand tattooed, I feel it's my first act of courage.

12 March 1972

This morning while sitting in my room there was a knock at the door and in came Carlo. These days he is called Shanti and I hardly recognized him, I hadn't seen him for six years. He still has his childish smile, but that is now mixed with the expression of an elderly, wise man. Also he wears Indian clothes nowadays and his unexpected arrival has made a deep impression on me.

Shanti was one of the first people I knew who left Milan in order to discover the East. He travelled overland through Afghanistan and Pakistan to India six years ago when he was sixteen, in the same way that many other people did at that time. I really admired their courage and faith, travelling 'on the road', practically without any money, risking everything for their search. People tell me that Shanti has been in the company of many Indian gurus during the past few years and that he has now become a guru himself. He speaks in a strange way, slowly, very quietly. I want to stay close to him, because I feel he will be able to show me something.

In 1966, in an old part of the city of Milan, a group of us had our first experience of community in a small, impoverished attic that was freezing cold. That's where we smoked our first joints together and dreamt for the first time about the mystery of the East. Shanti and a few of his friends were among the first long-haired hippies around at that time. People derided and insulted them in the street, calling out: 'Hey layabout, go and get a job!'

I first met him together with Gianni at a restaurant in Brera. I offered them a meal and after that met them frequently. We got involved in all sorts of crazy activities on the streets of Milan, 'happenings' and cultural encounters for which we were eventually arrested a few times. Gianni actually got thrown out of San Vittore after having been attending there for a year and a half, because he was caught in possession of a small amount of hashish and he eventually ended up in jail. Then Shanti suddenly left for India hitch-hiking overland and so I parted company with them. During the time that followed I concentrated on my studies in philosophy at the University and became involved in the student movement of 1968.

For a few years I forgot about the Indian dream and even my old friends, but now Shanti has found me and here we are together again, I can hardly believe it. Shanti starts to tease me, because I am with Piero and Claudio, two people interested in Buddhism. He tells me that Hinduism is a much more advanced yoga, but at the moment I don't really understand the difference. I just feel I should stay close to Shanti, partly because Piero and Claudio are not so willing to take care of me. They are busy with preparations for their trip and I feel lost and alone, particularly because I can't really speak English yet. In the end though I've decided to stay with Piero and Claudio for the time being and attend a Buddhist meditation course in Bombay. It's a Vipassana course, led by a famous teacher, Goenka and even Gianni has decided to give up his morphine and participate.

15 March 1972

Today the course started: never before in my life have I embarked on such an experience and I am really curious about the whole thing. Here everything is clean, orderly, well organized Half of the people are Westerners, the other half Indians, but the Indian people here are very respectable, mainly dressed in spotless, white clothes and they pay great attention to discipline. I realize that every gesture that they make in their lives, from eating to bathing, is some form of ritual.

I'm also a little frightened and feel rather emotional, because it's the first time I will meet a master, a guru.

17 March 1972

I have been here for three days and it's not been easy for me, it's incredibly hot and the routine hard going.

We wake up at 5 o'clock in the morning, take a shower and try to meditate in silence. We are supposed to concentrate solely on the breath, but for me it's almost impossible to sit on the floor cross-legged and to stop thinking, yet I am still determined to try. Once a day we meet all together in a large hall, seated in front of the teacher, Goenka.

He is a man about fifty years old, with a strong-looking body and the round belly of a Buddha. He emanates an exceptionally quiet energy, peaceful, good, solid and we sing a beautiful song with him. At the end of the singing he repeats this sentence to us in English a few times: 'Love, infinite love for all beings.' It's his teaching every day. He also lets everyone sit in front of him individually for a few minutes in silence, engaging each person in a brief, direct, telepathic encounter. When it is my turn, I become scared. I sit in front of him and am aware of my restless mind, as well as my negative and even aggressive thoughts towards him and am afraid he can see it all. I feel as if I am sitting in front of a mirror and I realize that there are many things that require to be purified within me.

24 March 1972

It's the last day of the meditation course and I am pleased to have completed it. After returning to the hotel I meet up with Shanti again and ask if I could stay with him, because Piero and Claudio want to proceed to Nepal. I have decided I want to leave the city but feel there are many things I have yet to learn about India. I say to Shanti that I would like to meet a guru and he invites me to accompany him to Almora where he has rented a house with his friends, the 'Rainbow Gypsies'. He tells me that a lot of the masters and saints of India live in the mountains and I feel happy about going with him.

25 March 1972

We have been wandering around the bazaar in Bombay, teeming with humanity, people of all colours and types. There is a great pulsing vitality, an expression of love and warmth. The women are so beautiful and I never become tired of looking at them. They are the perfect expression of complete femininity, both harmonious and graceful, their manner chaste and virtuous, the colourful saris they wear absolutely wonderful. India is beginning to fascinate me and I have a strong desire to continue with my adventure.

Today I leave with Gianni and Shanti to go to Rajasthan. First stop on our journey to Almora, which is our final destination, is to find a guru that Shanti knows called Hari Puri who lives near Jaipur in Rajasthan.

New Delhi, 27 March 1972

We arrived in Delhi by plane. It's not as hot as Bombay and seems a little more civilized. We are staying in a very comfortable guest-house and down in the street we stuffed ourselves with tropical fruits served with ice. I've been told that it is dangerous to consume food prepared in this way but I feel protected by some power and don't want to be fussy. I'm determined to throw myself wholeheartedly into this situation without any holding back in order to try and get to the bottom of it all.

Jaipur, 29 March 1972

Here we are in Jaipur in the state of Rajasthan. We journeyed here by train, travelling slowly, stopping continually, the train overfull, dusty and dirty, the benches and couchettes hard and uncomfortable, made of wood. Fortunately I had some training in enduring this sort of discomfort during my travels in Morocco.

We take a rickshaw to the jungle outside the city to find Shanti' s teacher. It's a wild place, full of Sadhus who look as wild as their surroundings. They have extremely long hair in dreadlocks that they never comb, their bodies resemble the big cats of the jungle and they smoke hashish all the time. I don't understand a word that they are saying but it makes no difference, they continue to talk to me quite unconcerned, telling us stories about how they kill tigers with their bare hands, and so on. I go to lie down to rest with Gianni and one of them lifts my skirt to see if I have any knickers on. They also insist that I smoke and I am taken aback by their manner, shocked by their behaviour.

Later on they introduce me to the master, who is ill, extremely thin, small in stature and clean-shaven, lying on a bed. He has languid eyes and from him there emanates an incredible love. I'm deeply moved and would like to give him a present. The only thing that I have which is precious to me is a silver bracelet and so I give it to him. Although it is not possible to communicate with \ him directly, we exchange looks and waves of love pass between us. Perhaps he will die soon because they say he cannot be cured.

2 April 1972

Today we've been to the bazaar to buy material. It is here in the shops that everything comes to a virtual standstill, where you sit, drink tea, chat and tell your life story. Eventually the shopkeepers pull out all the merchandise they have for sale, spread it out and in the end you buy something. The women are never seen in the shops, only the men who sit cross-legged or stretch out on large white beds. It seems as if time stands still for them, as if they are not really waiting for clients but simply living, almost in a state of meditation.

We went to eat in a luxury restaurant in the grand style of the maharajas, waited on as if we were important people. It's incredible to observe the great humility of the Indian servants, who completely identify with the sense of service. I am embarrassed, I feel like an old colonialist, one who is privileged. I think I would rather stay with the poor Indians in their own homes.

* * *