THE FORGOTTEN ANGEL

Let an angel sit at the table with us.
An angel of those forgotten even by the Lord,
one of those poor, dirty and drunk,
an angel who has no one,
who does not expect gifts.
If there's room for one of them then perhaps there will be room for a divine child.

STORY OF A CHILD AND THE WOOLF

Once upon a time there was a child who lived in the forest in a small box with his mother and father. One day the boy, whose name was Alex, asked his parents if he could go outside to play. After some time Alex heard a noise behind the bushes, went to see what that noise was and saw a wolf cub playing with a piece of grass, Alex immediately fell in love with it. He took it and took it home. When the parents saw the wolf cub, they were frightened and said: "Alex, what is that?"
Alex replied: "It's a wolf pup I met in the forest."
The parents were surprised and asked: "My love, you can't keep a wolf in the house ..." Alex replied, "Why?"
"Because his mother will come looking for him and he won't be so happy that we took his son," replied his mother.
Alex said: "But, Mom, I've always wanted to have an animal to love ..."
The mother thought about it together with the father and together they said: "Okay, you can keep it, but only for a few days, until the cub is old enough to live alone". And the child cried out for joy.
After so many days the little wolf was starting to grow, the wolf was beginning to get attached to Alex and to protect him from dangers, but one day the parents said to their son: "Alex, you can't have the wolf in the house anymore".
Alex sadly said: "OK, but at least let me keep it just one more night ..."
The parents thought about it and said it was fine. Alex had packed a backpack and some food at night, and went off into the woods with the wolf.
The next morning the parents noticed that Alex had disappeared into the woods and immediately got dressed and started shouting: "ALEX, WHERE ARE YOU!"
But Alex was already too far away and couldn't hear his parents' screams until he saw a light in a cave; Alex went to see what that light was and saw a girl of about ten or eleven who was sick.
Alex asked her: “Who are you? Where are you from? What is your name?"
The little girl replied: "My name is Laura and I come from a very distant city".
Alex said, "How did you get here?"
Laura replied: "I was out for a walk and suddenly I saw that a bear was following me, so I started running and found myself here".
Suddenly Alex and Laura heard noises, they were scared, but it was only Alex's father and mother who were very scared, and asked: "Who are you?"
Alex replied, "She is a friend of mine who got trapped."
The sorry parents said: "Alex, if you want, you can keep your wolf." But at some point the wolf family came and they started cuddling each other.
Alex said, "Mom, I've made my decision: I want to leave my wolf with his family so they can live happily ever after." And then the wolf left with his family. The child returned home with his mother and father, Laura returned to her village and the wolf with his pack.

THA STORY OF A COLOUR

Once upon a time there was a color that belonged to a famous painter. It was never used, it was almost always in a drawer of a piece of furniture that was in a corner. His color friends mocked him and chased him away. One day he couldn't take it anymore and so he ran around the streets of the city.

He was carried by the wind, was wet with rain and ignored by passers-by. By chance he found himself in a poor street and was picked up by a poor child dressed in rags. The color made this child happy who felt rich and started doing it right away
of the drawings.

When the painter realized that the red color was no longer in the drawer, he suspended his painting to look for it. He looked everywhere, but he couldn't find it and so he went to buy another one. From that moment on the painter decided to use all his colors and not to exclude even one.

Finally, with regard to the child, he remained a very happy child who made some money by selling people beautiful drawings. With the proceeds he bought other colors and painted even more beautiful designs.

JOYFUL PLOTS

If you see something negative in the other, it means that you have something negative in you.

If one looks at others and sees twisted threads then it means that he often chokes himself.

The pride of the projection lies in the joy of seeing on the other what one believes not to see in oneself.

But calm down, no distractions because Anna Freud is still elaborating the game that the adult child plays in this society.

There is no restriction for those who look elsewhere.

There is no limitation for those who do not look at themselves at all.

Only one special saying remains in the arc of an arrow:

your grass is rotten because you don't water it.

But saying and not saying the things that are truthful is a sharp piece of whoever removed the score

from the piano to let the player invent it himself.

And maybe the musician is sitting hidden at the end of the hall enjoying the spectacle of the sound void.

Those who are used to following the notes do not know how to cook breaks.

STORY OF LORENZO AND A CHILD

I am never ready for departures, detachments and farewells.
What scares me most of the time that passes is losing the people who are close to me and whom I love.

Today I said goodbye to Lorenzo.
It is the last day he will come to the facility where he is being followed as the family, for work reasons, has communicated to the team his definitive transfer to Genoa.

"Lorenzo, today we say goodbye, you know ..."

"I have to study geography, tomorrow they ask me ..."

"Okay, I'll help you."

He takes the geographical map of Italy and shows me our region.

“This is where we are now. Do you know where I'm going this weekend? "

"Here ... look a bit, there is also the sea." I point to Genoa on the map.

"You know I don't care about the sea ... I don't even want to go!" He gets up abruptly from his chair.

"See you no more!"

He keeps looking at the map and shows me with his fingers how little distance there is between the two cities.

"You have to say hello to me because we don't see each other anymore, so today I want to give you the key to all the doors, when you use it we could meet ..."

I can hardly hold back the tears.
I really wish I could tell this little boy that magic exists and we can use it to meet whenever we want, but the sad truth is that sadly I'm not the child he wants me to be. He does not know, of all the times that, in his company, he made me return a carefree and smiling child and all the good that he gave me.
Today I can no longer be that child and he must understand that this is a greeting, a goodbye for both of us.

“Lorenzo, the key that opens all the doors and takes you wherever you want, unfortunately it doesn't work with the grown-ups. But we can write letters, you will tell me anything you want. You can call me on the phone and with your mom we will find a way to meet again. "

"You do not love me anymore! Because?"

"I love you so much, but today, we have to say goodbye ..."

Lorenzo runs to hug me and, at this point, I cry ...

“You're really a little girl, grown-ups don't cry! I'll give you the key anyway, maybe then it works… ”A smile escapes me through tears.

This time it is Lorenzo who is crying in my arms.
He understood that we are saying goodbye ...

Now, I need someone who also makes the little girl in me understand, why people always go away and why it always hurts so much ...

CONFIDENT GIRL

Did you realize that what you do is never enough? That nothing is ever enough? Have you noticed that even when you give everything to someone it always seems too little? That it is not enough to be kind, it is not enough to really believe in it, it is not enough to love without any restraint. It takes a plan, it takes a bit of organization even with people. It takes a tactic, a bit of logic and let alone if I can do it, under these conditions. It is obvious that I come out in a bad way from every day, as if in the evening I was removed from a washing machine that lasted about ten hours, with the spinning set at maximum power, and then they laid me in the cold, all wrinkled. It is simply that I have always thought “if I smile sooner or later they will smile at me”, “if I love sooner or later they will love me”, “if I do something with my heart sooner or later they will notice it”. And yet it is not said, and this is the most atrocious truth in front of which I have found myself bending. Love does not always generate love. Sometimes it generates anger, turmoil, and even hatred. My one hundred percent is worth less than zero to someone and there is very little to do. I would like to give up, sometimes, lately almost always, then I care about the world. I care about the music, I care about the poetry, I care about the sound of the rain. I was fooled by that child who told me the other day “of course I believe in Santa Claus, why shouldn’t I?”. And indeed, why shouldn’t you? Desires fool me, that two or three still resist; the kisses steal me, the memories of the days when I dragged myself unhurriedly from the beach to the sea, convinced that I had all the time in the world. I am fooled by the people who sometimes notice me, under my stage costume, and tell me “I see you strange”. They fool me because they see me, and it already seems a lot to me

I’ve always been a confident girl in the people around her. From an early age, every time, I noticed the good side of people. I was naive, yes, but a child always has that fragility and naivety that characterizes her. It is always based on the kind and caring part of people. Now that little girl has grown over the years, but slowly she had to change her mind about what she had seen in people. About what he had discovered about the world and the men who lived there. He had discovered so many fake smiles; many gentle but violent deeds; so many words of encouragement thrown to the wind just to be said; so many actions done with coldness without putting your heart into it. She was disappointed, shocked, saddened. Because the world she had imagined was not at all like the one her dark eyes saw around it. It was all more real, more violent, more serious. As if the eyes of that little girl from years ago had only seen the best part of everything. While now he saw only what little was left of it, after its impact with true reality. He had had to learn to adapt. To force her too to suppress the urge to scream at those who offended her just because she was different. Smile even at those who did not deserve. To be reduced to loving people only through words on a screen. Protect yourself with bitter words in an attempt not to get burned. But maybe he would have made it. Sooner or later, she would be able to bring out what was in the world. Maybe she really could have left a tiny mark that would have screamed at the world “Hey, she did this!” . Who knows, maybe that sign is already doing it. Who knows, maybe it’s just these words that remind you of the past a little bit that have left it to you.

IF I WAS A CHILD

I wish I could hug all those little girls who grow up with the idea of ​​being wrong, who start hating their body.
I wish I could tell them that I know that story well and that they are not alone.
I would like to be able to embrace every single creature who, looking in the mirror,
repeats “I am wrong. I am too fat for this world”.
I wish I could hug the child Queen to tell her that it is not her fault,
that the world is full of things of so many things that she has not been able to see.
He was afraid that only evil existed.

Everything was easier as children, when the words didn’t hurt and the hugs were sincere. When the greatest pain was a skinned knee and the only difficulty was tying the knot in your shoes. Everything was more beautiful as children, when to touch the sky it was enough to go on the swing and a storybook made us dream. When a lollipop was enough to let the sadness pass and a light on to scare the monsters under the bed. When the world seemed perfect and we were in a hurry to grow. Now the world is scarier and sometimes I would like to go back to being a child

“What happened?” “That lollipops have become cigarettes, water vodka, bicycles, mopeds, sex kisses. Do you remember when flying meant swinging fast? When did “protection” mean using a helmet for cycling? When the worst you could get from a person was head lice? When did we only love our parents? Dad’s shoulders were the highest place in the world and Mom was a heroine. Your worst enemy was your brother, speed problems were caused by running too fast. “War” was just a game and the only drug we knew was cough syrup. The strongest pain you could feel was in your skinned knee and “goodbye” just meant “until tomorrow”. All this was the best thing in the world, but we couldn’t wait to grow up… “

A hug to the little girl I was, shy and insecure. To that delicate and sensitive child who cried, suffered, felt alone. A hug to the woman I have become, stubborn and imperfect but always sincere, a warrior with a heart that is always too open. To the woman who is trying to forgive herself and who never stops dreaming. For the woman that I am, for all the love I have inside, for my victories and my defeats, for all the times I’ve stood up, for all the monsters I’ve faced. A hug to the little girl I still am and will always be, with fairy tales in my heart and a thousand dreams in my eyes.

HELP FOR BROKEN FAMILIES

The dysfunctional family is a family in which conflicts, deviant behavior and abuse predominate. Each of these families lives in fear and the weakest members are constantly subjected to physical and psychological violence.

In these family models, authority is replaced by a distorted idea of ​​authority that is exercised through manifestations of anger, the need for control and aggression.

We remember how families and couples, as well as every single individual on earth, by nature and evolutionary processes face what we call a "period of crisis". Carl Whitaker, pioneer of systemic family therapy, identifies various crises within the couple. One of these occurs when the two partners realize that the other will never become what they wanted to become and that they will never be able to completely change it. To this crisis are added others, such as those marked by specific events, such as the birth / growth / education of children, bereavement, serious illness. And it is enough to observe the period in which we live to realize the drama in which all these aspects can convey

To date, the first test we had to overcome was to completely change our habits: the transition from hectic daily activities to immobility, stopped and blocked in confined spaces, for days and days, was not easy. And the awareness that today this will not end as soon as we all hope can make it even less bearable. So we have to deal, within those domestic walls, with the management of what have become only long and interminable days to fill. Everything that relieves us from coming into contact with us, our emotions, reflections on our own self, is now outside (friends, sports, holidays and travel, .. et al.). And the isolation in which we find ourselves, full of continuous disastrous news on the progress of the pandemic, can only be a further sharpener of emotions such as fears, anxieties and depressions.

It can be useful to start the day taking care of us, of our person, of our spaces especially if shared with 2 or 3 people of the family unit, and even more if we consider the units in which there are also grandparents or uncles and if the spaces they are reduced;
You can discover a new way of preparing yourself towards yourself and the new time available, dedicating yourself to activities for which we did not have time before (cooking, gardening, bricolage, et.al.). All this can be an opportunity compared to a new way of placing oneself within the family space and discovering a new relational dimension;

With children it can be useful, bearing in mind the differences for age groups, to maintain a daily routine as much as possible, to be recreated totally new as we have tried to do with ourselves: the day can be spent alternating playful moments with recreational moments , to play spaces and free exploration, to moments of sharing with the family.

INNOCENCE

All adults continue to carry their inner child inside. The body changes, needs change, experiences change thoughts and habits. But the wounds suffered remain and always remain open inside our little child. They come knocking again almost desperate, through the memory. They do not heal and scratch on the times when our baby inside did not feel appreciated enough, did not have the strength to be seduced by his individuality and subsequently never felt so safe as to abandon his initial innocence on the street. Within every family there are secrets, past anecdotes often steeped in shame. Within every family there is someone who feels guilty even for what he did not commit and at the same time dumps on others what he is solely responsible for. Although everyone feels so unique and different from everyone, every family interaction has a common denominator that repeats itself, like the script of the same film, translated into all languages ​​throughout the history of the world. In every family there is a well-defined decalogue: This should not be said; this is not to be done; this is not good … Yet to grow it is necessary to accept one’s own subversive universe. To grow, it is necessary to give up innocence. Giving up innocence means accepting what we reject about ourselves, even when it goes against the grain of what we have been taught. Giving up innocence does not make us guilty. It teaches us to understand that it is what we hide that destroys us while what we accept makes us peaceful and changes us for the better. Conflicts are spider webs, either you break them or they weaken you more and more until you are imprisoned, to the point of stifling forever even the last breath of courage you have inside. The paradox of any improvement is that in order to improve you must first accept your limits and love yourself as you are. To be able to do this it is necessary to recognize yourself and then break, break everything that you have built in your life to defend yourself, the shield around your heart.

https://youtu.be/5Z3h0T-LJAM

ARTHUR’S ISLAND BY ELSA MORANTE

A wonderful classic that teaches and talks about a life in solitude. An Arturo protagonist in his narrating self, an Arturo who becomes a star among his animals and a star will also become a star for the reader who will not easily forget him. Arturo orphan of his mother, grows up with an absent and practically misogynistic father. Arturo tries to grow and while he tells the story his maturity reaches the reader, because even when he is a child, the young man already has to do it himself when he is a child. Elsa Morante, immense and poetic, calls him several times a forastic Arturo and it is precisely the idea and flavor that this reading emanates. The human essence made clear and wild before the blessed reader. Genuine, atavistic, sincere. Arturo is loved, but so is Nunzia, also Salvatore and even Wilhelm and all the protagonists; everyone has a role, everyone is part of the Moor, as is his Oriental Tent. The island of Arturo was awarded the Strega Prize in '57 with its story that leads the reader to a job in search of himself, following in the footsteps of Arturo in his difficult oedipal overcoming of his father. Immense and stellar. A masterpiece that leaves its mark.