THE NEW YEAR BEGINS

My advice for everyone going into next year is this: make an effort to give people the benefit of the doubt.

I cannot count the number of times – both online and off – I have seen people beyond furious with one another, learned the situation, and realized the entire thing stemmed from a misunderstanding that could’ve easily been dealt with if one person had decided not to assume the worst of the other.

It’s exhausting to exist as a member of a minority group sometimes. I know that. There are so many people who hate you simply for existing and whose words are intended to hurt you.

But they aren’t, I think, the majority.

Take the time to ask yourself– is it possible that this person meant something other than my initial impression of what they said? Is this person discriminating against me, or did they simply word it in a way that isn’t clicking? Is this disagreement stemming from an irreparable rift in moral values, or is this something we can agree to disagree on? Is this person being cruel, or am i expecting them to know something they’ve never had an opportunity to be taught?

You are not obligated to act as anyone’s teacher in life. maybe you don’t have the energy to take the risk of finding out whether someone is being cruel or not. you are entitled to your anger even if the other party meant no harm, but consider whether there’s a more productive way to channel your hurt.

What impact do you want to leave on the world? on other people? is there a way you can respond to a hurtful remark that takes care of your own wellbeing without harming someone who may not have meant to harm you?

I hope we can all work together to make this upcoming year a kinder one. i think we could all use a bit more of that.

NO TIME

“I don't have time”: how many times have we repeated this phrase or heard someone say it?
The main reason we don't have time is that we accumulate so many possessions, affections, obligations, desires and ambitions that we feel compelled to dedicate ourselves to it every single day.
Having a home, a job and lots of friends, for example, will greatly reduce our free time. This is because possession enslaves us, leading us to act out of obligation, not out of choice.
Let's imagine for a moment that we have to move to another city: how many goods would we like to take with us, and how many of these will we have to do without to prevent the suitcases from exploding?
The essential lives within each of us, in our memories, in our thoughts: the essential is ourselves. Everything else is pure selfishness to which society has accustomed us since we were little.

I’VE SEEN THE AIR

In the wind that tells the air,
I am surprised to stay still,
not to fly away,
to anchor myself to the roots of the restless earth.
The waking hours, at night at 4,
when the kitten meows,
the hours out of the dream of the stairs that go down and up,
 they are so white, so stellar.
A distant movement of clouds, noises, hisses and breaths,
while I imagine the night as a light traveler,
without baggage, without destination,
towards a horizon there,
behind the mountain peaks.
I got up,
with a candle in hand,
as in dreams,
like someone who wants to see in the dark,
and I saw the air, clear, very clean, transparent,
but I saw it and I was inside that air,
as if you were something touched, caressed,
and I had no fear of death.
What purpose would I exist if I were all contained within myself?
But I am contained by the air and this invisible container
I saw it for the first time last night.
Like looking through a transparent, crystalline glass.
The world is immensely foreign to me,
because I look beyond the peaks and see,
I see through the rock,
I see the breath of the animals in their burrows,
the men in their shelters, doubtful and insecure.
A dove's wing moves,
his presence sounds in the silence.
I go back to bed, I blow out the candle,
I get back into the air and sleep.
It doesn't matter who I am.
It doesn't matter what my name is.
I have seen the air and the fire of the eternal soul,
inside a breath of wind that was going away
but I stay here, on the bed,
and I dream of being able to save trees.

THE EXISTENTIAL LOOP

The Cobalt Blue color symbolizes the ability to change when we feel that our life has taken a direction that has led us - or is leading us - away from the vision and spiritual approach of existence.In life, huge turns are made, and each path is an experience, a test, a tangible experimentation of the soul's will to touch the many possibilities presented to it by "wearing a human body". The soul, according to our vision of life, chooses where, how and when to incarnate. For this reason, everything that happens in the course of your existence is, to some extent, experiential food for your soul.

But of course there are parameters and "limits". One of these is our sleep and our blindness. In fact, we often do not see what there is to see and we do not grasp the teaching brought to us by the experience we are doing.When this happens, we enter a loop, a vicious circle, in which we continually repeat actions, experiences and circumstances that we cannot compensate or digest. We have all experienced this painful stalemate. It is as if you are in a spiral that is whirling around but leading you nowhere.

It is like getting lost in a maze and never finding the exit despite the thousands of steps we take to free ourselves. And here, when you are that in this loop, the situations persist or are repeated all the same: the places, the characters of the play, the names and the times change ... but the situations seem to be an "eternal return".
The Cobalt Blue color symbolizes the ability to change when we feel that our life has taken a direction that has led us - or is leading us - away from the vision and spiritual approach of existence.

In life, huge turns are made, and each path is an experience, a test, a tangible experimentation of the soul's will to touch the many possibilities presented to it by "wearing a human body". The soul, according to our vision of life, chooses where, how and when to incarnate. For this reason, everything that happens in the course of your existence is, to some extent, experiential food for your soul. But of course there are parameters and "limits". One of these is our sleep and our blindness. In fact, we often do not see what there is to see and we do not grasp the teaching brought to us by the experience we are doing.

When this happens, we enter a loop, a vicious circle, in which we continually repeat actions, experiences and circumstances that we cannot compensate or digest. We have all experienced this painful stalemate. It is as if you are in a spiral that is whirling around but leading you nowhere. It is like getting lost in a maze and never finding the exit despite the thousands of steps we take to free ourselves. And here, when you are that in this loop, the situations persist or are repeated all the same: the places, the characters of the play, the names and the times change ... but the situations seem to be an "eternal return".

IN THE BLUE DEEP BLUE

There are many ways to get to the meaning of existence. One way is to do as a diver does. Let yourself go to immerse yourself in its unknown waters, ready to meet the darkness of the abyss and the ancestral monsters of conscience, together with the sense of wonder at what is mysterious and which hides pitfalls. Once on the surface everything will appear brighter and clearer and there will be the awareness that in life the most common things already coexist with the depths. And we will know how to orient ourselves. Other times, on the other hand, you have to act like an aviator, lower yourself to reality a little while remaining in flight and then regain altitude; one has to practice looking at things by changing perspectives and distances, learning that the meaning changes according to the height and distance from which one observes. Once back on the ground everything will be different. And the sense and respect for detachment will have been gained. Paradoxically, certain small things will become of enormous importance and certain dimensions rather insignificant. So much so that you wonder why you never noticed it before. So finally there comes a time when you notice. We realize that travel is the meaning of everything and that life is constantly transfigured by being on a journey. And wherever you are, everything will feel like a foreign country.

ALLY

Sometimes I have the impression of being surrounded by useless things, futile material things that do not make myself a better person. When the world begins to suffocate, I detach my mind from the world; I unplug and take refuge in myself. The great questions of existence come to mind and I ask myself what is the point of living a life in which we like nothing. I have always felt different from others, but not in the sense of superiority, but to understand some things more deeply, but lack the adequate character to explain them. I feel undervalued at times, almost invisible too. It makes me angry to think that others think I’m mediocre, or sufficient, or superficial, because I know I’m not. They are a human contradiction: make-up, dress, hairstyle are necessary to make me feel beautiful, but only one judgment, a minimum negative, to knock me down. Because I am like that, it takes a long time to build my self-esteem, but it takes nothing to destroy it. I also wonder why sometimes we give so much importance and power to other people, even those who don’t matter to us, to make us feel inadequate, to make us feel stupid for having a different opinion. Never allow anyone to make you feel wrong, but always fight for what you believe in and above all for who you are. You’re unique.

INVISIBLE

I keep feeling invisible. Everyday. I can’t do anything but smile like a fool, trying to convince myself that it can get better. But I already know that none of this will happen. And I’m afraid that this feeling that I have been feeling for months may last until the end of this year, perhaps leading me to exhaustion. I do not feel understood or listened to, for months I have been talking to the wall also demanding an answer, any reaction … A reaction that will never come, knowing those with whom I “speak” as a rule, too busy feeling important to even worry about why I respond badly to everyone in the morning. There is a reason, but they also ignore that. Could it be better? By now I have also lost hope in this. Fantastic.

Stuck here staring at a stupid temple with the intent of giving voice to thoughts. The room is cold, it is raining outside and the rumors go round … thought after thought, the inability to give him a sense of logic is now far away, it must have been the hard day. Is it true that when we are tired we tend to think about who we shouldn’t? Oh, him, my friend of adventures, capable of making you feel over the moon but just as low as to be afraid. What is it that troubles me? What is it that is stopping me? Will I regret it someday or will another sixth sense be successful? What if the famous train everyone talks about has already passed? How do I know if it’s not someone else who just wants to play with my heart? I don’t know, I just know that anxiety assails me at night, the constant fear of becoming too attached to me. Where is this love? I can’t see it, touch it, feel it, feel it, I can hear some words, but I can’t do anything about it with simple words. Crying for someone who would never cry for you what nonsense is this? Go from loving so much until you feel every stab. Too many thoughts for one mind, how does it hold them all?

You realize that you are really alone when you are crying and you start stroking your hair to calm down. I would like to disappear and no longer be found by anyone. I am immobile, I see life passing by in front of me I know I’m not paralyzed yet nothing about me wants to move. Something jumped. A fundamental pact between me and life. And I stay looking at it. I feel time slipping on my skin but that’s all I feel. An emotional squeeze from the heart gradually eases the whole body. And the blood turns black with ink. Obviously my hands move. I’m writing.

https://youtu.be/zmYHbOu43AM

I WAS FULL OF IDEAS

Me too I would have liked to have few ideas, but fixed; instead of ideas I have many, but there is no glue that keeps them attached to me. Then those go far away, take flights that are not so controlled, they collide against some walls at times, at other times they get stuck in the trees and remain hanging somewhere that in any case I can no longer reach. Instead what I like, and what I like is what I do not stop wanting. I don't know if the nature of desires is to change and disappear: I only know that mine is to keep them close to me, close enough to let my heart and body, thoughts and all the pains related to thoughts shape me; I let them make me somatize, host the pain even on the skin and under the skin, in all the organs corroded by what I want and cannot have. I know it never changes what I like, but it was more important to find out what it is that I like. There was a time that seems very distant to me when I needed the wishes of others to discover mine, and I swear that I also tried to adapt, to file my edges to please me what everyone liked. Then I learned to choose, to choose for me and to choose me, which in the end I only recognize myself in what I like. And so I choose to prefer my pale skin to tanned shoulders, and black eyes to my almost transparent ones; I choose to prefer the leaves of the trees that are moved by the wind in the spring, and to let myself be bothered without shame by the smell of the sea in the summer; I choose to prefer D'Annunzio to Pirandello, and also to fight to defend this position if needed and for nothing else; I choose to shop together rather than watch a movie, kiss you with your eyes open to see that you laugh a little; I choose to prefer to offer you a dinner and then ask you if you will buy me a flower: it is a slightly more beautiful gesture of love; and I prefer to wake up early in the morning, sunset on the marble of the cathedral to the one on the sea, tea with coffee, being touched, lilies with roses. And then I know that I prefer to remember these things, to write them so as not to forget them, because it is always better to know where to return: in fact I choose to prefer to write to everything else, because it reminds me how to do it.

IN THE BLUE NIGHT

The footprints of the night walk beside me.
I meet the eyes of tomorrow
and call in silence
the actions, the waves,
the tracks of the sea wind.
I remain leaning against the clouds,
my face sways, he tells you lashing words.
Blue candy floss night. I have a root in my heart.
I have roots in the mind.
I have roots that germinate blue flowers.
My face in clouds.
My space inside.
Remember the stone.
The stone in the blue sea where
I seat and think about your galaxy.
My blue eyes see your nitght flowers.

I often stay staring at the sky while I’m in the car or just when I’m walking around. I look at the sky because from there my mind opens and makes me reach the sea of ​​stars on the expanse of salty, clear water, full of star reflections. It reminds me of winter evenings, when with very few degrees I was short-sleeved on the beach taking pictures. As I looked at the immensity of the sky, I imagined people who, like me, looked at nothing like a dreamer. I imagined people looking at the stars immersed in black to return home or as they looked out on the balcony or the bedroom window with a cigarette between their lips or a steaming cup, and in taking their time to think, they lost themselves looking at the sky with eyes and heart full of anger or sadness, letting oneself be engulfed in the bubble leaving the world outside, and who knows, maybe we are all astronauts but with the fear of leaving the earth and entering the darkness of the universe among the planets and the stars.

During the day I manage not to get lost in my thoughts. I easily evade tedious issues, impending responsibilities, troubled problems. But in the evening, how the fuck is it done? What is the reason that leads us to reflect more than necessary? Why does the setting of the sun urge us to express our concerns, to accumulate our disturbances? It is late at night and, while I let myself be carried away by this inexplicable introspective flow, I have not yet found the answer.

I think that in twenty years of existence – let’s call it life, if you like – I still haven’t found half a person willing to look at me for a moment and – why not? – to look inside, and not stop outside. I have so many things inside that I don’t say, I don’t do, I don’t share with anyone because no one in my opinion can understand them as I see them. And it’s always the same story. I’m not saying I don’t love my friends. I couldn’t say it and denying it would be a lie. They are an essential part of my good mood. But I don’t know, sometimes these people seem unknown to me in spite of everything, because they don’t see things as I do, and it’s a bad thing because it means that I can’t really get to know myself probably and it makes me wonder if these people would like it. same good to another me, more personal, iridescent, perhaps crazy. I just want to be myself even more and I just can’t take so many things inside me anymore that are filtered before I speak, think, act in the company of other people. Ask me something, whatever interests you looking at my blog, I am in a moment of absolute truth.

 

I DELETED MY BLOG

I deleted my blog, with 2300 followers, because the dialogue was over. Because writing in English I wanted to reach more people and I couldn’t do it by having an Italian blog. Now here I say everything I think, as a woman, as an artist, as a professional. I want to express every part of me, tell about me, my life, and my thoughts. I don’t care that I have lost so many followers, this is not important, but it is the essence that we explain that survives. Anything could happen to us every day and I want to fix my existence here.