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Where Do I Belong? Pondering About Borders and Belongings

Where Do I Belong? Pondering About Borders and Belongings

Where do I belong? I spent few days with my family in Brazil. My main desire was to visit my 93 year old Mainha. Every time I arrive in Brazil I have an immense feeling of groundedness. As soon as I leave the airplane and feel the air something potent comes over me that makes me say “Wow! This is where my soul came from! Here! This is the place where I was wonderfully and fearfully made. All of the materials of the stars in the universes found a way into this piece of land, this poor neighborhood and composed…

Sing with me: SIGNORE LAUDATO SI

Sing with me: SIGNORE LAUDATO SI

Praise be! Saint Francis composed the famous Canticle of Creatures in Assisi. I was at the garden where he composed it. And then Formaggio and myself composed this song in honor of Saint Francis and the earth. If you have kids, sing with them and add the animals, plants, rocks, trees, fruits, rivers near you. And sing with the proper pronunciation. Formaggio and I say: grazie mille!   If you want to use this song in your community or your family, here are the lyrics now with the chords added by my brother Marcelo Rosa English Teacher. Add or exchange…

A Gardener Defies the Borders Between San Diego and Tijuana

A Gardener Defies the Borders Between San Diego and Tijuana

Couple weeks ago I met with the wonderful people of the Presbytery of San Diego. Pastor Sam Codington organized a visit to the borders between San Diego and Tijuana. We visited a site where volunteers receive immigrants from all over the world. Across from the huge walls, we saw a migrant family from Afghanistan. They could be my family. Kids were playing with doves not realizing they were squeezed between two walls that held them into the hands of the US migration police. The volunteers were literally healing the wounds on the sore feet of the adults. Then we went…

What is left of me in that house I grew up?

What is left of me in that house I grew up?

The house I grew up in São Paulo was sold. I can now see how presences become ghosts and how spaces once filled with life lose their spirit. We grow up, we leave the house, our parents get sick, die or need to move and the house which once was a castle, a shelter, a place of belonging becomes a memory of entire lives, a close-distant place, a landscape filled with moments that made who we have become. Like a polaroid that freezes many years together, the shiny picture loses its color and gives space to something else. I lived…