Six years ago a friend of mine gave me his bicycle as a gift and he is gone forever. For three years the bike has always served me: I loaded it like a mule to do the shopping, we went a couple of times away and then around this green area, for months she and I, her bike. For months and miles, it was my car. I remember that she was waiting for me on the last sidewalk of the station when he left. When I left for London it was brought with great difficulty to Padua and when I returned from London I went to pick it up from Padua. It was raining heavily that day, rivers of water lined the streets and the Paduans found a girl in the rain who splashed water everywhere and sang the Christmas song “Jingle bells” in the middle of summer. I was very happy to be able to ride a bike. When I arrived at the station, the track for the bike was the last one, outside the station shelter and so I had to forcefully fit the bike onto the wagon and then pull it up, in the midst of a thousand curses on that last wagon before the locomotive. Unlike the one I have at home, this one was called “Little Mermaid” because during the winter rains of a cold and merciless reverse, I always emerged from the waters on her saddle and stayed afloat. I walked around in sub-zero temperatures and warm socks under my pants. Then one day I went to the library, serene as always, and when I go out I haven’t found her. You took away not only a bike of questionable economic value, and of fundamental practical value, but you also took away a dear memory and a piece of my life. The Little Mermaid was the only memory I had of my friend. Thieves assholes!


I am sitting in the library, sipping an American coffee. I'm looking for words, perhaps inspiration. It does not arrive. I seem to keep struggling to get words that just aren't there now.

I would like to write about realization and as soon as I think about how to start there is a sense of muffling in the head and nothing comes.

I drop my arms to the side, let the keyboard free. I look to my right and there, leaning on a shelf, is Robbie Williams looking at me. He seems pleased, smiling, a little tired. Beside his mouth an inscription, printed in gold: Reveal.

Reveal. Revelation.

I get a thrill when I mentally pronounce this word. Does this word have anything to do with realization?

The idea arises that maybe what we are used to calling realization is simply a revelation, a revelation of ourselves to the world.
A person I recently met on my path reminded me once again that in simplicity there is the way to what we are looking for. Whatever it is and whatever we are calling it.

I spent years wondering how I could have accomplished myself. What did I mean by this word?

I wanted to get to a point where I could feel full, useful, active part of the world and that being there made a difference.

I “fought”, more or less happily, trying to do at all costs something that made me feel like this, fulfilled.
Then I began to realize that what I called realization was a state of being disconnected from doing or, in any case, not a consequence of it but at most its presupposition.

Feeling fulfilled, feeling that our presence in the world is sacred has nothing to do with doing.
And maybe it's just as that shiny gold Reveal next to Robbie's mouth suggests… feeling fulfilled is a consequence of revealing ourselves to the world. To reveal ourselves without masks that do not belong to us. Entering that space of feeling full, and rich, and happy and in love .. and all the words we can imagine and that we often put between our personal and professional goals instead of putting them at the starting point.

I stopped coaching precisely because I was out of tune with this idea that there is something to be achieved and that there is someone who can help you do it faster and easier (or at least consciously).

There is nothing to achieve. Nothing to achieve.
Or rather, maybe one thing.
If I think about it in this perspective, the word "Realize" takes on a new meaning ... realizing oneself in the sense of recognizing oneself.

It is essential and urgent that we begin to realize that there is no better time than now, this very moment, this breath, to start doing it.

And it doesn't mean using a make-up of happiness and Peace & Love to mask a feeling that we might call sadness or fear.

This is what we can no longer put off, recognize what is here now and what wants to be seen: anger, sadness, fear, happiness, embarrassment, shame, serenity, pleasure ...
The realization simply passes through the set of these moments in which we choose to be true, with love.

Where do we start from then?
From the simplest and most usable thing we have for example.
From the breath.
Taking a slow, full breath and listening to the miracle within that breath.
It is that the magic is hidden in these things that seem small that we therefore underestimate. So we are looking for big companies and we forget the power that is in simple gestures. Because life starts there.

The mind can continue to struggle to find meaning in big business but sooner or later it will be forced to give up.
We choose when.

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