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.
You're not cool if you don't wake up at 5 in the morning. There are entrepreneurs and workers (and others) who share content on social networks in which they emphasize an unhealthy lifestyle as an essential condition for success. Wake up at 5, work 24/24, sleepless nights, hyper productivity, lack of work-life balance. In today's society, this mentality has been internalized to the point of making sacrifice an element of social recognition: if you suffer, it necessarily means that you are doing something important.
According to research published in Forbes, 66% of millennials are addicted to overwork, 32% said they also work in the bathroom and 70% remain active on weekends.
Yet, according to a study by "Environment International", working 55 hours or more a week increases the risk of stroke by 35% and of dying of a heart attack by 17%. This model, in addition to being toxic, has an important shortcoming: it does not evaluate the quality of the hours dedicated to work, but focuses only on the time and "suffering" factor.
Obviously the work (of the entrepreneur or otherwise) occupies a large part of the life of those who carry it out and requires extreme dedication, but are we sure that in order to achieve results we must necessarily give up a balanced lifestyle?
I feel a little sad this evening because I realize that I am a little creature in the face of things we have always struggled with: time, death, love, destiny, life in general, injustices, evil, suffering etc. etc. I feel a little crying because I know that this life is as beautiful as it is sad and we have so little time that sometimes we waste it without realizing it. We could say that we really love that person who has been around us for a long time, we could help that someone because more unfortunate than us without being overwhelmed by arrogance and selfishness, we could decide for once to improve someone’s life because (yes never knows) that that person hasn’t been smiled in a long time. We could teach someone to walk on their own legs, even if they need a little nudge at first, we could just hug each other a little bit more without adding a word too much, because the power of a warm hug is often underestimated. We could do many things that we don’t do, but still remain in the memory of those who have us, each in their own small way, loved until the end. Each of us, as can.
Last, hanging dreams
We often say phrases like “I hope to forget all this soon” but, in hindsight, is it okay to forget?
Let's imagine we have a huge red button behind the neck with the inscription “Reset” engraved, will we be able to press it?
At the end of it all, is it okay to forget?
It is normal to want to forget the abuses, the sufferings, the scars on the skin, the grudges, the fears but we are the result of everything that has happened to us, good or bad, we will be really ready to give a damn about who we are and who are we to do a complete reset of everything and become amoebas without memories and without a past?
We think that by erasing all bad memories we would live happier, we will be better people. But is it really so?
By eliminating everything we will also throw away all that happiness we had "thanks" to our suffering, everything we have learned would become useless because it would not be followed by experience, like theory without practice.
Imagine meeting the girl of your dreams or the guy you even want to have with you for the rest of your life and all of a sudden an anonymous you from the future shows up who can't reveal his identity and tells you to let it all go and to flee with high legs. Would you listen to him? And if he told you that it is from this person that you will receive the greatest disappointments, at that point would you believe him?
I do not think so, I personally if someone told me so I would be even more eager to start that relationship.
If you, like me, didn't listen to it, do you know why you wouldn't?
For a simple reason: you do not have the adequate experience to understand what will happen in two months, a year or more.
Is it really worth erasing the memories?
Will we really be happier?
In my opinion we will get on a carousel from which we will no longer be able to get off, making the same mistake again, again, again and again.
Forgetting does not eliminate suffering but increases it exponentially, up to infinity.
Pain. How many people does the pain weigh on the shoulders, stomach and head? How many people are there who would like to eliminate it from their life? But they tell us that it is useful, that suffering helps to understand life, to know others and ourselves. Would we be the same if we hadn’t subjected so much? Would we be so sensitive? Would we be so in need of love? What pain did it give us? The light. The light to see where the darkness was and where we were stuck. The light to see where we went wrong and how to move forward. Pain is our light. We can now see in the dark.
Some things can’t be explained, they just happen. Walls become invisible, secret passages are discovered that lead to enchanted places, downhill roads and beautiful eyes look at you in another way, which are discovered, leaving souls free to capture. Two people find themselves starting to walk a notch above everyone, on a level road whose only obstacle is themselves. I, who can find the negative side even in the right, beautiful, beautiful things, I am not a bearer of light. I live instead in the darkness, in the maze of a glorious past, of golden years that I will never relive, stardust scattered in the sky. it is no longer a question of finding a solution to the mistakes I have made, but a way to rise from those I will commit, always the same, always the same, I will never change. there are mechanisms that are now embedded in my brain and only great inner revolutions will be able to scratch them, revolutions that I do not feel will happen soon. upheavals. like first love. my dealing badly with things starts from there or even from before. I’m not a positive, but that’s not it either. remote traumas still manage to manipulate today’s behaviors. and I can’t open up, I feel that no one is worth it, I don’t even try, I act so hard but in reality it’s all a continuous breaking, a preventive fragility. how do you heal from something that makes you breathe and is so ingrained in you? Something that gives you the only creative power to survive pain. How you heal from something you have in the ventricles of the heart. I always look to the sun, but only God knows, how much I am a timid moon.
I, who can find the negative side even in the right, beautiful, beautiful things, I am not a bearer of light. I live instead in the darkness, in the maze of a glorious past, of golden years that I will never relive, stardust scattered in the sky. it is no longer a question of finding a solution to the mistakes I have made, but a way to rise from those I will commit, always the same, always the same, I will never change. there are mechanisms that are now embedded in my brain and only great inner revolutions will be able to scratch them, revolutions that I do not feel will happen soon. upheavals. like first love. my dealing badly with things starts from there or even from before. I’m not a positive, but that’s not it either. remote traumas still manage to manipulate today’s behaviors. and I can’t open up, I feel that no one is worth it, I don’t even try, I act so hard but in reality it’s all a continuous breaking, a preventive fragility. how do you heal from something that makes you breathe and is so ingrained in you? how do you heal from something in your head and above all that only you know? I always look to the sun, but only God knows, how much I am a shy moon.
I didn’t think the bottom of hell was that bad. It is filled with fear, tears, despair, anger, resignation and time does not flow here. It slips through your fingers but every day is the same as the others; filled with suffering. Sometimes you get out of breath it hurts so much trying to survive. It is called hell for a reason and as much as you want to make it, you are helpless. Crushed and reduced to a small and insignificant voice in an unprecedented din. We might as well adapt anyway, I’ll stay here for quite a while …I’m fine, but sometimes I break down and don’t notice. I’m fine, but sometimes my walls collapse and I realize I’m fragile. I’m fine, but sometimes I cry in front of a movie for too much love that I want and don’t have. I’m fine, but sometimes I don’t understand myself. I’m fine, but sometimes it still happens that I always hope too much and more than I should. I’m always fine, but sometimes I’m tired and my eyes shine less.
They say that when you reach the bottom you can only go up, but that’s not true, you can start digging with your bare hands and reach an even deeper place, even more dark and painful. But if you survive, if you find the strength to raise your head and rise from the abyss of suffering, then you will be able to see your strength and rejoice because there is no turning back. Nothing and no one will ever have the strength to bring you back to the bottom, and thanks to this you will be able to face the next obstacles with your head held high because no problem will appear greater than what you have already experienced and overcome.Psychology states that you shouldn’t expect anything to feel good. Everything that happens to us must be a surprise. If a person sends us the “good morning” the following day we don’t have to wait for it again. We can’t get used to things, much less to people. If we consider events as surprises and never as expectations, we are happier.Don’t settle for it. Don’t give yourself to the first one to pass. Do not prefer the easy things, in the end they always last a short time. And don’t be afraid of the difficult ones, difficult things are not for everyone, love is not for everyone and you are also not for everyone. Don’t settle for nice words, you need presence and constancy. Remember that to make a person happy you don’t need gifts or constant promises, you have to make them feel important, every day. Forget the one who betrayed you, but without ever being ashamed of trusting him, he should be ashamed of having betrayed her. Forget the speaker behind you, his place is right behind you. Forget those who are not honest with you. Don’t worry about it, don’t try to understand what they think, you can never really know what someone thinks, but you can understand a lot from how they behave and how they treat you. Believe in yourself but never put yourself above others. Intelligence is questioning yourself and not others, that’s just fear. If you are satisfied with the wrong people, unfortunately it is only your fault and it is you who must correct your mistakes, it is you who must learn to give people the same importance they give to you. the difficulties do not come if they make you lose your patience, but if they make you lose your desire, and if you are with someone it is because you want him and do not need. Don’t settle for those who play to lose you, let them win, never give up hope or kindness. Take care of your heart, don’t waste it, don’t throw it away, and when you return to love, enjoy every moment, without giving up anything. Don’t give up on love just because it could hurt you.Love is reborn in my fantasies as a woman, in the repressed desires, in the desires and pleasures of my body. The fruit ripens, juicy and sparkling, sour in sweetness, and like the sea concentrated in a drop, which contains the strength of the waves in the salt. Pura a flame is ignited, a glow of light infests the darkness, it makes room by tearing the layer of the closed eyelids in the dark: light illuminate me and invade my flesh. I want to taste the passions, suffer from the pleasure, smile and enjoy.
Art is his need. An instinctive need to create. An instinctive need to be and communicate one’s being to others. Affirming its existence with the creative act is the only way for Amleta to live. Feeling such a force within oneself, an energy, an immense explosion, a storm that never settles down. A sea that is always stormy to its depths. Being a river in flood, dangerous for others, not accustomed to strong liquid currents, but a natural and splendid element for her. Art is its power. The power to create from nothing. To give life to what has never existed, which has never been seen, which has never been read. A sublime, divine, most envied power. Art feeds on souls. Art is insatiable, it is its fierce demon, and it has walked this path all its life looking for an escape. But you never get rid of art because only art makes it free and alive. It is like a second skin and if you take it off you become skinned and you cannot live anymore. Amleta has art in every cell, like a deadly virus, which never becomes a disease but which accompanies it throughout its life as a faithful travel companion. Art grinds the flesh, the spirit, the whole life. He raises it in the highest sky, being able to see without eyes, hear without ears, draw without using his fingers; and then makes it descend into the most terrible depths of the human abyss. Art is a miracle of life and death. Whoever possesses the gift is condemned to a parallel life. Amleta goes in and out as if from a window. She enters and exits herself, feeds herself to the pigs, gives her vital breath, remains in pieces and then begins again. Who would ever want such a life? Yet many envy it and do not know what it means to have the fire of inspiration that consumes! Art is its condemnation. She didn’t choose to start drawing, then painting, writing and playing at the same time. A dark force took his hands, and guided his dark energy. He was thus able to empty the pain he felt while living and to enclose it within his creations. Nothing remains of that period: everything burned. Unfortunately, something was saved from his subsequent dark periods, still not gone and up in smoke. Hamlet was born on a cursed island, in a sick country, and soon she got rid of her life and the pain took her far away, where she continued to suffer and create, create and destroy, herself, paintings, installations, plays, notebooks, sculptures, … Amleta creates and destroys what he creates. Hamlet is and is not at the same time. He yearns for this perennial creation and has tried several times to free himself from his prison without success. This gift, this power, this torment of colors and words, is the nectar of his days. Everything else is just a bitter side dish.
When I speak and say something, I am never understood. When I speak and say something I am not listened to because I do not speak on video. I write and speak. I don’t record videos. Those who make videos perhaps have a better chance of being heard and understood, even appreciated by everyone. The videos are more followed. I am never taken into consideration because I don’t start talking in front of a cam, I don’t show my tits, I don’t whisper, I don’t blink, I don’t talk about fashion and make-up. I feel very frustrated about this because in this society only videos matter. People want to see someone, fantasize, imagine. I don’t show videos. I speak. But I’m not understood.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 