Here we are again in that period of the year when the lights go on everywhere, the memories thicken, the shortcomings become even heavier and that sense of melancholy mixed with joy caresses your soul, supporting you for days. It is a beautiful and difficult period and the state of mind varies according to the personal journey of each of us. We have gone through very hard, difficult and distant moments from affection, hugs and certainties.
There are dull days, in which a thousand setbacks occur, in which the problems to solve, the things to do multiply, in which all the programs skip and you just have to start over. Days in which there is just enough time to stop and sigh, thinking "I can't take it anymore".
Even these days come to an end and what remains on us is a great tiredness which fortunately is accompanied by the awareness of having done everything possible. Especially when we are dealing with many people, for various reasons, it is really difficult to always understand and also always make yourself understood.
One of my wishes is to have fewer days like this or the ability, if I really have to go through them, to be able to live them with greater patience and serenity, to always carry something good with me, even when I really have to dig to find it.
Less nervousness, more smiles. Being able to cushion the impact that other people's wickedness, selfishness, lack of gratitude have on me. Because in the end the problem is this, it's me. I'm still not good, I feel like a sponge that absorbs everything.
I need someone to laugh with me at my weird way of talking to trees.
I can't remember anymore when I was happy and had fun. I whisper to the wind and the clouds.
The rain only in the evening and the blue always on the lips. I let all sorrows and disappointments land on a land without wars and I guess men are not violent.
Tonight I would like to smile for all the people who are here and whom time has left on my way like precious flowers.
You are all often the only eyes I see in the darkness of this war. I am very fragile but you give me a lot of strength and support and I thank you all for being here.
You are beautiful flowers on the street and I see you and find my peaceful silence.
THANK YOU SO MUCH.
Another important point in the human body is the pineal gland, located almost in the center of the head, which plays a huge role in consciousness. This gland has shrunk from its original size, which was comparable to a ping-pong ball, to its current size which is that of a dried pea, because we forgot how to use it a long time ago. What is not used is lost.
Pranic energy flowed through the pineal gland center. This gland, according to Jacob Liberman, author of Light, the Medicine of the Future, is very similar to an eye and, in some respects, is literally an eyeball. It is round and has an opening on one side. In this opening there is a lens to focus the light, it is empty and inside it has color receptors. Its original field of vision, even if it has not been scientifically proven, is upwards, towards the sky. Just as our eyes can look at 90 ° in all directions from the central axis, this pineal gland can also "look" at 90 ° in relation to its position. Just as we cannot look behind the head, the pineal gland cannot look at the Earth
You have a virgin forest in your head, it seems easy, it seems candid, but no.
Intricate, colorful, warm, but above all humid. That humid monsoon, fragrant, soaked and green.
Cursed deciduous trees that stumble the way, and soft brambles darkly intertwined.
I want to look inside. Go in there. Make room for me, get my hut to enjoy in peace. Jerk off as I please, under a rain that comes like a dense nebula.
Bathe me with the thoughts that you enclose in that casket. Precious and fearful.
Get me dirty with peat.
Give me what you are while I dig. Give yourself as a gift to anyone. Shower me with your embarrassed and excited obscenities.
Don't spare me the evil, give me that too. I am the blank canvas, for once and a thousand more if I like it.
Be a serving cavalier for thoughts, works and provocations. No flowers, there is no space in the jungle. Not below. Not here at the bottom. Not in here.
I am the epiphet, which lets its filthy resin run down the trunk, which it leads straight into the heart of your belly.
Eyes to the sky, a dark sky, without stars. The silence, dark and cold, with no more screeching. A window that separates me from that world that fits me tight. Nothing to upset me. Me, the silence and the coolness of a April dressed in November. The arms resting on the railing and the head that slowly becomes heavy. What’s giving out? The heart, the mind or the body? And perhaps in the end it is the heart that carefully chooses the most painful moments, those moments in which to turn off because enduring is no longer allowed, because at a certain point endurance is no longer human. And anger arrives, pain arrives, tears arrive, disappointment arrives and loneliness also arrives, because anyone in front of your pain does not understand and yells at you. Or maybe in the end the problem is just you, who always believe so innocently that you are so hurt that you don’t want anything anymore. In the end, it’s not even worth it anymore. The lights beyond that window go out, the screams cease, and you can go back to lie down on a bed drenched in hidden tears.
I have seen so many ugly realities, so much blood, violence, children growing up without parents, appreciating the value of freedom, knowing how painful it is when they take it away from you. Here I have always seen a lot of love, loyalty, family, humility, education. I had to know what I can go up against on the one hand to understand that there are those who have fought so much to ensure that I can be free forever. I know where I’m from but I also know who I can be. You have seen certain things only in movies, yet you sin of presumption and rudeness continuously. I looked into your eyes and listened to you talk about your fears, your goals and your past, I watched your reactions as I talked to you about me and the period of shit I’m going through, but although I know things you haven’t said no one else thinks of her before sleeping, because she is sweet and unlike me in bed with you she came immediately. I’m 24 and I’ve always wondered what my biggest secret is, in short, everyone has one right? I also have mine, but finding something that only I knew, something that I had never really told anyone, not even the closest people, seemed difficult to me, and in short, nothing that could boast of the importance of this name! But tonight I understood it and it’s as if I saw myself inside, it was such a bad thing that I probably didn’t want to think about it, convincing myself that it wasn’t and almost forgetting.Luna doesn’t just show your best side You look great alone you know what love is ” “Luna, you only speak to those in love Who knows how many songs they have already dedicated to you ” The best way to start this post is by quoting some lines from Gianni Togni’s song ‘Luna’ A song about love even if hidden behind the apparent description of the moon shining in the night sky This post is aimed to all those who at least once raised their eyes to the night sky and enchanted themselves in observing the stars, thought without even realizing it of a special person to all those who have imagined that at the same time that person was observing the sky and it does not matter if physically close or far away to all those who have confided their greatest secrets and desires to the moon to all those who, with a full moon, return a little child to the memory of stories or television series in which the moon was the main part of the plot To all of us romantic dreamers. I wanted to tell you that more than once I have listened to songs thinking of you and I wondered if you think of me too when you listen to that song Sometimes you enter my mind without asking permission messing everything up Sometimes they ask me why you who were the least suitable person I don’t know how to answer him I think about you, even if I don’t want to And I would like to throw away your memory I think of the thousand ways it could have ended But in the end I think it was better for both of us to get lost.After all we are scorpions. We love death, we symbolize rebirth, we must die ourselves to get up again. We scorpions look so small and cute, but we know how to sting and sometimes we don’t even do it intentionally. We are the governors of the mystery, we live by this, we live by curiosity and magic. Of shadow and fog. This darkness pervades us. We are intuition, sixth sense, sensations. We are revenge and passion, because we have feelings that swim in deep waters, they are never superficial. This sometimes makes us suffer terribly and we prefer to take our pain out on ourselves. Everyone considers us the most insidious, grumpy and “ugly” zodiac sign. The truth? We like to hear it and laugh because we are the mystery you haven’t solved yet. I wish that at 23:59 you could shout what you want to people especially those to whom we do not have the courage to say the simplest and most beautiful phrases like i love you, i love you, i stay this year too … for the simple fear of ruining everything. Here if we could do it at that time it would be easier because they are all drunk, they are all high, maybe people do not even listen and therefore you would not be afraid of losing someone just because you reveal your feelings to them. you feel about him or her. Instead it is not feasible and you are left with the weight on your stomach or heart. Because people remember why unfortunately we don’t have a year cancel button even if we wanted to. In a year there is a lot of bullshit in love, in friendship, at school and in the family but if we had the possibility to reset everything it would be better but we do not pass from one year to another but from one simple day to another, we pass from 23:59 to 00:00 to 00:01 celebrating changes that we hope will come true like magic, changes that, however, if we don’t roll up our sleeves and keep fighting, they won’t come true.
I have read and heard that some friends and acquaintances also organize online prayer and meditation groups for this difficult time. They are good if that can make them feel better. I have personally stopped praying in public since I left the Catholic Church. For me, prayer is an intimate relationship with a harmony that has no face, voice, location or figuration whatsoever; it is an opening to the transcendent that can only be expressed with interior silence. The prayers that the religious have taught us and are read in every mysticism, serve to create that atmosphere that makes us feel the sense of the transcendent beyond any philosophy taught. I believe that even today they can serve to understand that beyond the didactic dictates, there is the voice of the heart and the strength of the feeling that is stimulated by the poetry of the words, if we know how to listen to them and if we find them in ourselves. Thus praying becomes simple and doing it in a group is possible only if the harmony between people manages to create that mystical inspiration that prayers suggest. What their purpose is is indicated by the feeling that can express them, certainly not by the mind that wishes.
I’ve seen people leave my life without even apologizing for the inconvenience. Then I saw other people sitting quietly on a bench waiting for me to notice they were there for me. I met people who just met made me think “I could never share time with someone like this” and became the most important people in my life. There were those that I liked at first glance and they then showed me, along the way, that it was just superficiality and mistake. Those people I judged negatively only because they didn’t convince me, or because they didn’t think like me on many and many topics and then, they taught me that, despite the differences, people know how to be beautiful precisely because they are “different” . I met someone who made me say with conviction “I will never forget you again”, but after a couple of years I no longer wondered where they were and how they were, not out of malice, but because sometimes it just happens. And then I met those who traveled only a little way with me and in the end embarked on their path, different and distinct from mine and has remained with me even today. Because life is a way to go. You will meet many faces, some will simply remain so, others will be much more than this.In a moment of time, my life took a break. She relaxed and focused on the world around her. It was all chaotic and peaceful at the same time, like calm water in the open sea and destructively marvelous crashing against the rocks. And that was how I felt that sentimental gash; I felt like a hot wind breaking on my skin, it was the steam that the old train was expelling from the fireplace, while its engine was revving and pawing, it made its way into the walls of my heart. A crust by now settled there was to protect it, a really hard crust, behind which there was hidden a roaring and pounding heart like that train. That crust, under that warm wind of steam, began to weaken, and the vibrations of the engine cracked it. The future refused to answer his questions, however, telling him that he had to focus on the present, do what he felt without looking away.It’s all so fleeting, volatile Speed is relative, pure mental perception Time, the only constant of everything. Therefore learning through attraction complexes is nothing more than a distraction of the space-time perception of the present around. If there is interest in an unknown girl, but present in the present, it is good to express it, against any reaction. Imperturbability is the ability to have firmness of mind. This, combined with the passage of time, puts up resistance to this, however, releasing awareness of actions and consequences. This is to say that if you find a girl you like, don’t mind talking to her. Don’t let time try to unite you, because time will do nothing like that for you, no one.
The clock strikes 4.44. I breathe, I breathe. I am still and yet it is as if I had made a run, a run at breakneck speed. I sleep and I see it. I see her. Beautiful as always. Words, words, words, words, words. Words and voices that don’t go away. I believed those words, with and without a voice. They poison my mind. Ah my mind. A field after a battle. Swarming with things that are no longer anything. And they were everything. Enough, enough, enough, enough! A shadow. Here’s what they are. A broken and toxic shadow. Food for the night and its ghosts. Idiot! I am the ghost! A dead man who still wanders. Haunted by his nightmares. Yes, I am the specter. Idiot! It is so. I’m an idiot. But I can’t get out of it. I can’t find the damn door. Of this prison. Which is making me disappear.If pillows could talk, they will tell others how I am depriving myself of sleep, regretting past decisions while my “what if” scream in my head and they will also tell others that I wake up in the middle of sleep because I am haunted by unwanted memories, those undesirable memories that turn into nightmares. If pillows could talk, they will tell others those days when I questioned my worth, those days when I entrusted my happiness to someone who loved me and yet showed me how replaceable I am and they will also say how absurd I was to believe made up excuses for every call or every ignored message. If pillows could speak, they will tell others how often I feel weighed down by responsibilities I carry on my shoulders that I didn’t have to have. If pillows could talk, they’d say they’re sick of catching my tears every time I get scared, broken and tired because I’m weak. They will tell others how sensitive I am that I easily notice whenever there is a slight change towards me from those close to me. And if only pillows could talk, they’ll tell others I’m having a good fight, tell others how many times I’ve rebuilt, tell others that no matter how many times I’ve shed tears, I’ve never denied myself smiling and breaking my heart. life like I’m not exhausted. It’s a cycle, they burn me out, I wear out and then I get back to working.It doesn’t matter who you spend the day with. The important thing is who you spend the night with, when doubts, fears and worries are strongest. It is important with whom you spend the night because close to us you have the person who fills our heart, mends the most serious wounds and is that person who despite having seen our biggest defects has loved them all the same.
Have you ever tried to take care of a woman’s hair? Slip them between your fingers, welcome them in your hands if they are too curly as if it were wadding. Touching a woman’s hair is very important, taking care of it even more. Because if you do it, it is with her consent, it amounts to permission to touch her heart. Dissipating any tangles or brushing them frees his mind, a massage to his soul. We should all take care of a woman’s hair, with dedication and delicacy. Make them a braid or brush them with extreme delicacy, you too will benefit, because relaxing being a source of serenity. A woman’s hair has its own scent, which differs from woman to woman. By arranging her hair you put her soul in order, she will allow you to listen to her secrets, because taking care of her hair is a very intimate act. In Portuguese it is called “cafuné” the act of tenderly running your fingers through the hair of your loved one. Kiss a woman’s hair, because they deserve respect. Take care of a woman’s hair, because they give positive energy.
As you read, think. Think about every single word, every single sentence you have read. You are young. You need to live. You need to understand that being crazy about someone is absurd. People make mistakes, we are human, it is normal. Forgive and forget. Don’t lose a friend because something happened, forgive him. Forget about their mistakes, you want the same if it happens to you. If you like someone, tell them. You don’t know what could happen to him. It’s bad to talk about this, but it’s the truth. People die every day, every minute, every second. You will never know it. Have fun, dance in public, sing with all your lungs, don’t hold back in laughter, don’t hold back a smile. Dress how you want, not how others want. Be free, don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. Say what’s in your head, tell all your thoughts, free your opinions, you should never go unheard. Live your life as much as you can because you will never know what can happen. You just don’t know.I don’t know how to replace people, even if they hurt me. Disappointed. I let them go, I go on with my life, I go on. I don’t look for them anymore, I make myself strong because I know it’s right. And when after the ninetieth time I say enough, I don’t go back. I make new friends, I fall in love again, but it hardly happens, but no one will ever be able to replace them, because the emotions I felt with them cannot be imitated. People don’t replace each other. What I had with them I cannot have back with anyone else, nor can I expect it from anyone else. And when I wish things had gone differently, I think of the memories that bound me to them and I know that no one can ever separate me from them.I don’t want someone by my side to fill a void inside me. I want someone to tell about my day without feeling a burden, talk about my passions without feeling boring, show my weaknesses and dark moments without feeling out of place. Love hurts, they say. But it hurts when you don’t love the same way. Or when one of the two doesn’t love at all. At that point, every action must be measured, thought, weighed. Because the sensitivity of those who (perhaps presumptuously, humanly speaking?) Only want a little love: a daily caress on the heart, a beautiful word whispered in the ear, a smile that involves the whole face.Words come to life on their own at night. It is easier to find them, to feel them in your mind. It is as if they emerge from the depths of me, free, insistent. The best speeches, the clearest, most linear thoughts, or conversely, the most intense, children of a feeling that is difficult to master. The letters that get lost or confused during the day become autonomous, walk, come out into the open. I like this quiet, I love this silence. It tastes good. Clean. Of poetry.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 