I was born on an island, so the sea has always been present in my memory, in my life and in my view. My father, Palmiro, was a great fisherman, he had intuition. He knew the seabed surrounding Capoliveri like the back of his hand, found the octopuses’ burrows and knew when it was the right moment for a certain type of fishing. I went with him a lot when I was little; we’ve always had a boat, so I was often there, lost in my daydreams. The intense light, the blue colour of the deep, clean water, the smell of the sea, of the salty water, of the Mediterranean summer, unmistakable; no sea parallels ours. Every bay is different, with the seabed changing even from one part of the same promontory to the other; the saltiness of the water is even different where you find the iron mines and quarries. In Straccoligno, it’s fresher and less salty than between the Innamorata, Madonna delle Grazie and Stecchi beaches. I discovered that every rock, every cleft, every place on the peninsula has a name. Names that are no longer used and that we’ve half-forgotten, but then, unexpectedly, we respond to their sound when someone mentions them.
I live on the north side of the Mountain, near Capo Perla and the Spanish fortress of Forte Focardo. The Calamita has an expansive magnetic field: sirocco winds blow I almost feel a physical discomfort, it’s the rumble of the field stressing the plexus. I’m not delusional or am I not the first to say this. To Rudolf Steiner, Calamita was one of the centers of the world. Anthroposophical doctors would often retreat to the top of the mountain, where the magnetic field has an angular momentum, while the streamlines of the field extend along the slopes of the mountain itself. The pilots that observe it try to pass by as far away as possible to avoid the annoying effects it has on their instruments, and by flying seaside by the Ginevro mine, they can measure potential changes. But there are traces of iron and magnetite underground which create points of ‘high concentration’ in some places around the mountain. Then there’s the story of the architect J. De Reede, a spiritual researcher. He was the owner of a small peninsula that stuck out into the sea between the beaches of Ferrato and Malpasso, a little before Calanova. At its summit, the architect built a small wooden house and a hut. A little beyond the house, he made a large circle of pine branches. Inside the circle was a small holly oak tree about 60 centimeters high. Johannes said it was difficult to sleep and meditate in the pine grove because ‘heavy’ spiritual beings of nature weaved their way into his thoughts. His only relief was to sit inside the circle of protection during the night, grasping the holly oak tree that acted as an anchor for his psyche.