TWISTED IN MY SOLITUDE

Now I'll explain. Basically I find tenderness in the most absurd things and 
I feel affection even for those I almost don't even know. maybe because I empathize, because I'm fantastic. who knows. 
nd it's not a passing thing, maybe I happen to see those people after some time or that I happen to think and hope that everything is all right, that they have in life not what they want but what can make them feel good. 
Sometimes it's enough for me to know just a few things about certain people and I end up imagining what it would be like to be able to do something about them for them and see the joy in their eyes. 
Other times I think of picking up and leaving to see them there 
walking around their city and running towards them, I imagine them surprised as they say to me "what are you doing here?" 
"I wanted to see you, to spend time with you, to feel close to you, 
to make sure that this day can be good for you". I go around social media or shops and think "ah he'd love this like crazy" and then I think I'm crazy to think that I haven't even exchanged a word with that person. 
I don't know if it might seem creepy to someone, but I still try to keep it mostly to myself. 
Fantasizing about millions of events that I will never do with these people maybe while listening to a song and looking in the mirror or while I'm in bed and looking at the ceiling.

HELPING HUMANS

The need to find one's Purpose is not an act of fanaticism, but it is the sacred will of the human Being. The fact that the System has taught you not to aspire to anything, not to want "too much", to the politics of the poor, but good, is not synonymous with ethics or interior development.

It is only the cowardice with which the fearful justify their inefficiency and the doubters are kept in chains.

Those who follow the majority follow conformism to these precepts. It is not a question of feeling superior to anyone, it is a question of acknowledging it.

To observe what the masses do and (at least) not to do the same.

When did we humans begin to dig the furrow that separates us from the world that should be our own, namely the animal one? Because this we are, animals. When did we begin to cultivate the utter disharmony that is the new normal today? Yesterday I saw My octopus teacher on Netflix and I still have in my eyes the wonder of that being that seems to come out of a fantasy or even to come from another planet, it is so beautiful and complex.

This morning, however, I cried. Thinking about how much this nature is now alien to us, thinking about all the evil we are capable of towards other living beings, thinking about the bottomless pit of our hypocrisy. Yes, this morning I too cried out of guilt because I am part of that infesting race that is destroying the planet and sowing death among its inhabitants, who in some animals see only food, amusement, objects to use. I cried because, even if I have been trying to do my part for some time now, it is still not enough. Man is also an animal, an evolved ape who has forgotten what it means to live in symbiosis with the surrounding environment. We have not eaten other animals for over a year now and this is a choice that makes us happy but also more aware. Unfortunately it is not enough to alleviate the burden of a fault that is too great for us, which overwhelms us as a species and not as individuals. We act as if everything is due to us and we can't even understand how absurd it is. Yes, that octopus taught us something too and reminded us once more what is worth fighting and crying for. And also suffer.

STORY OF AN ISOLATION

"Grandma, this isolation is destroying me."

"What can't you stand about this time, my child?"

“I had projects to carry out, works to finish, pending commitments that are waiting for me… and now I find myself still. Property. Without being able to do anything. I'm wasting time. "

“You are not wasting time. You're earning it. But you don't realize it. "

"And how can I, grandmother, realize such an absurd thing?"

"Cook. As it once was. Knead the bread and let it rise two long days and two long nights. The time has come for slow leavening. The one that makes you take care of the food you cook. Use your hands, not machines. Use good yeast, not artificial yeast. Let your dough rise for days, not just hours. And in this time of long waiting and caring, even if nothing seems to be happening, in reality an incredible change is taking place. In the dough and inside you. Learn to take care of your daily bread, you will thus learn to take care of what really feeds your soul. And everything will happen. As if by magic."

"Is this the time gained? That of care and waiting? "

"Yup. In this fast paced world we prepare the ingredients quickly and we want the bread to be ready as soon as possible. But do you know the taste and smell of slowly leavened bread? It is a different, genuine, almost sacred flavor. While you wait for your leavening bread you are in connection with your bread: you look at it, you feel it, you care for it. Here: this is the time for slow leavening. You have already prepared the ingredients, you have already kneaded. Now step aside and enjoy the wonderful spectacle of this culinary transformation. Of this transformation that is also happening inside you. "

"Without doing anything, grandmother?"

“Without doing absolutely anything. The smell of bread is already in the air. Trust your bread. And in the great possibilities that are within you. 

AMEN

Thanks to my father, I have learned to screw those who think that the world should rotate as their head says, or worse it should rotate around itself. Three sentences and a few attitudes are enough to identify self-reported assholes, a few more behaviors for sneaky or victimized ones. It is not presumption, they are years of parasitization and direct experience with those who do not observe themselves, and in this life they will never do it. Get it out of your head that you can support their path by absorbing their garbage. The sooner you recognize them the sooner you take back your freedom. Nobody can help them, because 95% of the time it's not a solution they are looking for. They just want to pour the non-sense of their existence onto the neighbor (and in that non-sense there can be anything).
Precisely because they turn the root of their problems to everything but themselves, they are unable to be responsible for the harm they do to them and to those around them.
Even if you tell them. It applies to all relationships, know that.

Manzoni  ( ALESSANDRO MANZONI, a famous italian writer of XIX  century) had not seen the plague, but he had studied documents after documents. And then he describes the madness, the psychosis, the absurd theories about its origin, about the remedies. It describes the scene of a foreigner (a "tourist") in Milan who touches a wall of the cathedral and is lynched by the crowd because he is accused of spreading the disease. But there is one thing that Manzoni describes well, above all, and that he takes up from Boccaccio: the moment of trial, of discrimination, between humanity and inhumanity. Boccaccio had indeed seen the plague. He had seen friends, loved ones, relatives, even his father, die. And Boccaccio explains to us that the most terrible effect of the plague was the destruction of civilized life. Because the neighbor began to hate the neighbor, the brother began to hate the brother, and even the children abandoned their parents. The plague pitted men against each other. He replied with the Decameron, the greatest hymn to life and good civilization. Manzoni responded with faith and culture, which do not avoid trouble but, he said, taught how to deal with them. In general, they both responded in a similar way: inviting us to be human, to remain human, when the world goes mad.
Health without Freedom is what is guaranteed to Farm Animals. . This is why they define you as “Herd”. FREEDOM is not a luxury, it is not an extra, an ornament that embellishes if there is, but in short, precisely if one can afford it or else something more comes first concrete.. NO! FREEDOM is your right to live, to work, to be happy, to express yourself, to be there .. what’s more concrete than your right to be there ..? Sometimes I would like to find an arrow indicating “free life”. I don’t know, maybe in the process of some woods, where the light filters through and the heat doesn’t kill you. A kind of guarantee that you are going to meet like-minded people there. People to talk to about everything but vaccines, governments and passes. Just talk to. A place you reach to express absolutely nothing, no opinion, no point of view on hundreds of points of view by now worn and tired. The only thing that sometimes matters is the need for sharing among similar people. Vibrate in the same tribe. Simply because it feels good to be together on the road. Stay in touch with those who look like you and aren’t afraid to hug. Talking without a muzzle, talking about good things, without someone having to convince the other and the other having to defend who knows what. Talk about what seeds you planted, what bullshit you did, the music you wrote or the love at first sight that got you. Thus, without having to find that prosaic sense to the questions of living, the more you think about it the more they have nothing to do with Life.
Yes it’s true, it seems to never end. It seems that humanity is condemned to an eternal struggle just to buy bread. It seems. Lately I often answer with a phrase that I said to myself when I was working, giving exams and in the meantime I had my father in hospital for cancer. Be grateful that you can fight, because you mean you are Alive. No matter how long the fight seems, it is the purpose and the mood with which you face it that make it appear to be war or peace. Choose your path and you will no longer have any doubts that that bread tastes sublime. The whole system is made in such a way that man, without even realizing it, begins as a child to enter a mentality that prevents him from thinking anything else. It turns out that there is no longer a need for dictatorship now, because the dictatorship is that of school, of television, of what they teach you. Turn off the television and gain freedom. Even the way you dress and the haircut you wear makes you realize that you really don’t choose anything. Already becoming aware of this would show the world in other terms.
Keep walking, when you realize it you will already be with your buttocks on the ground, in that uncomfortable position that the puppets hold. Immediately after, a long and obstinate reflection begins on the convenience of staying there on the ground. But the companions are already moving away and the path is far from appearing a clear path, obvious. It is not even in question the idea of ​​staying there all life, with the mud filling the soul and the backpack, so that the time comes to get up, a difficult situation and unpredictable in its results. Perhaps it is better to continue to stay on the ground and drag yourself little by little but, in addition to being not very aesthetic, this is impractical (believe me, I have tried it): there will always be a hidden root or a thorn to hold you back, and then a new reflection on the comfort of sitting in the mud, despite the mosquitoes, flies and blue flies. Already determined to get up, which is always the most difficult thing, comes the complicated operation that consists of resting with your hands and knees where it happens and trying to place the heavy hood on your back (so simple, and heavy, is to carry the house on the shoulders: just a plastic sheet and a hammock). But the backpack insists on carrying other absurd things: some poetry books, some clothes, a mismatched sock, medicine for the world, food, a damp blanket … The load as a whole weighs tons (especially after the first hours of walking) and tends to get muddy whenever he feels like it, that is, almost always. By now tortoise face on the ground, it follows the act of putting one foot and getting up on the other, with the consequent protest of the knees; the horizon then widens and will always be foreign. With the eyes on the ground, the march is undertaken again until the next fall, which will occur just a few steps ahead. And history repeats itself …

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