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The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth.

Hello everybody, I must confess that I feel a little strange to write this first post in the Podere Panta Rei club, while we all live an almost surreal situation. Forgive me if I don't talk about wine and vineyards. I feel lucky here at the Podere; I can still enjoy small freedoms that to many others are denied. I don't know if you all have my same feelings about how vital our little "freedoms" were. We traveled by plane for little and with little almost everywhere, while now we cannot take a simple walk, and everything happened in a few weeks. After this experience, I am sure that I will have an evident conception of freedom. I will know how big the difference is between "a bogeyman" and true fear. I will have the certainty of having lived in a dramatic, unique event, and already now, everything I have seen before begins to appear far away. These days nature seems to recover the spaces that we violently snatched from other creatures. This coronavirus reminds us of viciously and forcefully of how powerful and vulnerable nature is. I want to believe that we can soon overcome this tragedy and, at the same time, take an essential new step of civilization, more supportive, kinder towards men and the environment. In this challenging moment, I want to wish everyone a happy Easter in an unusual way, and I do it by copying below the famous letter written by Noah Sealth, Chief of the Suwamisu Tribe to Franklin Pierce.


"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you sell them? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people. We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of a pony, and man, all belong to the same family. The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The waters murmur in the voice of my father’s father. The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the river the kindness you would give any brother. If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow Flowers. Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our Mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth. This we know: The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself. One thing we know: Our God is your God. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator. Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival. When the last red man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left? We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all. As we are a part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you. One thing we know: There is only one God. No man, be he Red Man or White Man, can be apart. We are all brothers. —Noah Sealth, Chief of the Suwamisu Tribe. SEATTLE (U.S.A.)—"

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