DRAMA HOURS

The worst drama in the world is the despair which is capable of making the body and spirit of the human being die. Despair is the best weapon that evil uses to annihilate man in dignity and in his worth to make him his own. In the modern world, despair has spread quickly, including not only some sections of society but a bit of everyone and, increasingly, young people. Despair, more than from a lack of material goods, comes from an inner loneliness, from an inability to communicate one’s feelings to the other (without falling into hypocrisy or the usual clichés), from not feeling loved or for the less popular: all this leads to an unbearable burden of life.) We know of people who did not lack wealth or success in the workplace, beauty, approval of others (people also from entertainment, cinema) and who nevertheless felt sun and despair. The desperation of one who feels grossly guilty towards society, who has done ignoble things, who feels an outcast, a rejection of society, without hope of salvation is one of the gravest forms. Here evil plays its best card, it already has it in its coils and is only waiting for the moment that he indulges in an intimate life of extravagance or an extreme act of suicide! Daily intercourse with others can lead to despair (misunderstandings, quarrels, betrayals). In reality, every human being in the world is like a universe unto himself (a city-state, if you grant me the term). We see people around us that we don’t know anything about, we don’t know who they are or their history. The body, like an armor, contains wills, feelings, tastes, aspirations, its own characteristics that others do not know (sometimes not even the same family members) We would like others to think as we do, have the same interests, food tastes, music, sports, political ideas, artistic choices and we marvel if they don’t appreciate or despise what we appreciate. Thus we discard from our life those who are not according to our model. We are now billions of people, all different (like fingerprints), strangers to each other with difficulty in communicating and sharing. Sometimes we have something in common or that we like about each other and friendships and falls in love are born but, at the first incongruity, they decay. True friendship and true love is that of those who understand that the other is different, accept and share this diversity by reconciling it with themselves. The body is a facade that often deceives, a mask that can hide the totally different interior. In our mind there are images of beauty that overwhelm us (as well as sounds, melodies) and it may happen that a person corresponds to this image and we are deeply attracted to it but the spirit of that person is unknown to us. A peaceful and married life is possible only if one person manages to “graft” his self into the other to continue living as a single individual while facing the daily difficulties that life presents.

TURN BACK

I will not let these tears go to waste

I will use them to water the most beautiful of gardens

And give you that smile that shines like the sun

Because you are both stormy and peaceful

You are strength but also a lot of fragility

Like petals and thorns

Now you are rain but soon you will become rainbow

Each color is an emotion

Beautiful and happy

Ugly and sad

Like the keys of a piano

Black and white

All make up the symphony of each day

A different melody every time

But this is called living

EROS AND THANATOS

Roses are red, blood is red, love is red. Happiness is clothed in thorns, it can be reached, embraced, with the crucifixion clause. The harder you push, the harder it sticks to you, and the blood gushes. Happiness is an elite created by those who self-destruct to give it to others. A cosmic equilibrium is destroyed in order to create, one loves in order to die, to the point of dying. Eros and Thanatos go hand in hand. There are still entities that prefer to harm themselves rather than those they love. They can be considered weak, but others do not know how much strength it takes not to open the Pandora’s box that is hidden behind a pair of eyes, they do not know how much awareness exudes from the skin. What awareness? The awareness of the power used to protect, which if released would cause a massacre with no survivors. An awareness that bleeds inside, behind a smile, without anyone noticing, or at least almost anyone. The blood gushes, and nobody pays any attention to it. And that’s right, for balance. For the world. There is a part of me that you don’t know, and it’s not my fragility, it’s that part that at some point reminds me of what I’ve been through, that makes me recognize your lies, that tells me when it’s time to move on , who does not stop saying that the first place will never be yours, because it is already occupied by me. You wouldn’t even understand it by trying on this part that you don’t see, so you will continue to call it insanity.

BELLYDANCE FASHION

BIKERS AGAINST CHILD ABUSE

Wrapped in their leather jackets, with their hair and beards unkempt, the numerous tattoos and the proud gaze seem rough men, at times threatening: instead, under that tough aspect, a heart and a passion are hidden that beat at the unison with their engines when it comes to defending a minor from abuse. The non-profit association was founded in 1995 in the US, in the State of Utah, with the aim of eradicating the scourge of violence and mistreatment of children through an activity of support, comfort and the fight against fear. Its founder is called Chief, biker and psychologist, with a troubled childhood, specializing in assisting minors between the ages of 3 and 12. His is a story of extraordinary intuition: dealing with the case of a particularly introverted child, Chief introduces himself to him one day on his motorcycle and invites him for a ride. The initiative has a positive effect: the child is immediately attracted to the vehicle, by the sense of freedom that emanates and that one feels when traveling without a destination. Since then, it begins to open up.
Today B.A.C.A has grown, it has about 5 thousand members scattered throughout the United States, Australia, Canada and Europe.

THE GARDEN OF MYSELF

I’ve always looked at the sky. Every time I am in a place I have always lost myself looking at the blue of the sky, the white of the clouds. I’ve always had a strange connection with the sky I always feel part of him when I lose myself looking at him. I remain there enchanted. I get lost in thoughts To reflect on everything that goes through my head at that moment. I always leave a piece of my thoughts in those clouds A piece of me in that infinite blue. As if for a moment everything was still there in that sky. As if for a moment all thoughts are dispersed in those clouds. As if for a moment I forgot everything.
I slept great tonight. Small in a huge bed, duvet to cover me and two pillows around to protect me. Zero nightmares. I dreamed of my father. He came to wake me up around five. He put his hand on my shoulder and said “I brought you the croissant”. At that point, the information received woke up all those particles of me that dance wildly at the thought of food. Inside of me I jumped up, but in reality the movement was quite slow. I first took off the covers, stretched, yawned as with every awakening, put on the false crocks and went to the kitchen to eat the croissant with cream. But there was nothing and so, a little sad, I only drank some fruit juice like every morning, remembering the time at university when my father came to me and brought me sweets. After breakfast, I opened the bedroom window and saw the white cat, PIPPINEDDA, ​​in the garden eating some herbs. She had a sly, very sweet look. When she noticed me she went away. I cleaned the bedroom by making the bed, sweeping and mopping the floor; then the bathroom by thoroughly cleaning the accessories and all the products on the shelf, my father’s postit still on the mirror and in order not to remove it I cleaned the glass all around. I also tidied up the living room and kitchen by washing the floor and tidying up. While I was in the Cinderella version I listened to the usual songs and hummed perhaps a little too much. After cleaning I prepared the vegetarian meatloaf: minced meat, courgette bread, eggs, parmesan, parsley, salt and pepper, and lactose-free slices for the filling. After that I started writing, and LUIGINA, my black and white kitten, started to watch TV and I to the pc to update the blog. About half past I baked the meatloaf with potatoes. After lunch I did the dishwasher, because I can’t wash the dishes because my wrist hurts right away. There was peace in this house and it seemed to me that my father suddenly opened the door. But it was only this morning’s dream. I was happy to see him again.

QUEEN OF DARKNESS

You, queen of few words, heal my soul. Let the darkness peacefully lull her into the day. Luminous Queen, common point between distant souls, let me free myself from the chains of distance that men have not yet been able to destroy. Let him be able to rock me one more night, and another. And if you can’t leave us together, enlighten us also tonight and cradle and our souls that meanwhile dance a nostalgic waltz on the edge of the precipice of human will. And let this dance be eternal. Let at least our souls be together, distant queen.
My sensitivity is my gift and my cross. Where the many are barred, I am allowed to feel. I feel the shades of the soul and I see its colors. My wonder of a wildflower and I cry in front of the sea. I see no heart for the scar and no tears for tears. I feel joy and pleasure, pain and suffering. This is my gift, this is my cross. Music has taught me to be curious. A love cannot take something away from you. Those who say they sacrificed themselves for love make me laugh. Too bad for them. Fears are needed. It is not useful to chase them away. I’m afraid that fear will paralyze me one day. This yes. But it doesn’t just apply to me. It scares me that it could happen to anyone.

HARMONIOUS

In recent years I have made bad choices, choices that have led me to live a life that is not what I wanted: as children we all imagine how we could be tomorrow, but we will never know for sure if what we want will come true, but we can do everything possible as long as it happens. I didn’t do it, I saw grown-ups and I wanted to be great too, all too fast, all in a supernatural way. I didn’t have to do it, I didn’t have to grow up so fast, I wanted a normal life, to be a girl like any other, yet I ruined everything. If I could go back I would change everything, I didn’t think I could say it, but that’s the way it is. I’d be hypocritical if I said I’d do it all again, no. Usually it doesn’t happen, usually I would do what I did, but not this time. This time I would like to live it, life, this time I would really like to be happy. This time I would choose me, me and me again. But there is no going back, and I can do nothing but tell you to really enjoy life, to the full, it might be worth it and you might not regret it. Don’t be frightened by what might happen, rather, make sure you never have to wonder what might have happened. Just make it all happen.

THE AGE OF TRASH

The Brazilian TV series 3% is a wonderful science fiction transposition of the logic of the Wasteocene. In the not too distant future, Brazilian society appears divided between a poor and devastated “hinterland” and a utopian and almost heavenly island, called the “off-shore” in the series. Technology is the main dividing factor between the two worlds: while the offshore is full of all kinds of futuristic gadgets, the hinterland has the appearance of a giant favela, where people survive on leftovers. 3% represents the contrast between clean and modern on the one hand and dirty and obsolete on the other. If the guiding principle of offshore is science, DIY seems to be the most important knowledge inland: being able to reuse / reinvent what has been discarded is a crucial skill for those forced to live in a landfill. social and material. So far, the series is not too different from other post-apocalyptic tales; perhaps it is only more explicit in its representation of socio-ecological relationships based on waste. 3% becomes more unique and interesting when explaining the procedures that select those who can move to the island. Using science fiction to describe the neoliberal creed of competition and meritocracy, the authors imagine that every year all citizens who turn 20 can participate in a complex and manipulative series of tests, “the Process”, through which some will be selected. and moved offshore. From the perspective of the Wasteocene, the Process is a key device, because it creatively illustrates, albeit quite realistic, the internalization of wasting relationships that reproduce waste people and places. In this sci-fi dystopia, there is even a sort of religious cult of the Process, which makes all individuals in the hinterland completely “governed” and obedient to the logic of injustice that separates those who deserve more from those who are discarded. At the beginning of the third season, Michele, one of the leaders of the rebellion against the system, openly declares that for the rich who live offshore the rest of the population is simply waste. Violent repression is a key tool in 3% as it is in the Wasteocene: people do not easily accept being treated as waste and forced to live in socio-ecological landfills. Nonetheless, epistemic and cultural repression is also an important tool to keep the system running. In this sense, the idea of ​​the Process is extremely powerful, because it involves all the arsenal of neoliberal lies about deserving “a better life” thanks to one’s skills and hard work. As Bauman (2008, p. 158) argued, this discourse of merit assumes that those living in the global socio-ecological dump are victims not of injustice but of their own inability to build a better life. The Wasteocene is not so much about the rubble of the hinterland, to follow 3%, but rather the extent to which the rubble is the by-product of unjust socio-ecological relations but normalized by an almost religious celebration. At some point in the series, it becomes clear that the devastation of the hinterland is the direct consequence of the prosperity of the offshore. After all, every paradise needs a hell so much that its own is created.

PSYCHIC PAIN

The question that each of us has more or less often asked is “Why is there pain?” One cannot remain numb in front of our pains and those of others. There are physical, psychic and spiritual pains and on and on, as you go up the pain is more intense and less understood even if it may seem the opposite. In my opinion, pain is not an accident or, worse, a punishment but it contains hidden purposes. For the body, pain is a defense, an alarm bell, a warning that something is wrong and allows you to run for cover and be cured. No scientist would affirm that the sensation of pain that is felt by touching a flame is useless because it allows to avoid even fatal dangers for the body. Psychic pain, sometimes less understood, is a sense of loneliness, abandonment, the bitterness of unrequited feelings, of misunderstanding and therefore depression. This type of pain prompts the search for someone to help overcome it by identifying the causes and removing the obstacles before the vitality is completely extinguished. Spiritual pain is even less understood, it concerns the spiritual part of man but also includes psychic and physical pain because it takes man in his entirety. The spiritual sick person swears, inveighs against a divinity that he believes is the cause of his pain but is unable to change things. In this life, to establish the natural balance, every pain corresponds to a pleasure and vice versa (as for all dualities): to the fatigue of work and study the pleasure of results, to the sore gums of a child the growth of a tooth, to the the pain of childbirth the birth of a creature, the pain of a cure the pleasure of healing, the fatigue of a climb or a race the pleasure of victory but also: from the pleasure of smoking the pain of cancer, from the satisfaction of alcohol suffering from a cirrhosis, from the pleasure of big eat the problems of obesity. Those who live without pain sooner or later look for it to restore that balance I mentioned above. The handsome, young, rich son of a father leads a life without fatigue but then goes to practice extreme sports, runs with the car, takes drugs because he is in a state of imbalance and nature does not recognize a part of itself I recognize that the mysteries of pain still have unknown roots. Thoughts about pain are also pain in themselves, that of stepping into the shoes of the sufferer. Solidarity in pain very often eases it.

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