Growing

 

For sure I am growing and the push inside is pressing. But I am going slowly. First because the body, my entire system is human and it is literally impossible to change matter so swiftly. Second because now, I have the possibility to expand the time I need, to make “the right choice”.

Before, actually all my life long, it was like living in a war zone. The only choice was to survive in the best way I could, trying to quickly make decisions, good decisions in very pushy and demanding situations, good for me and for the people around or with me. Instead I should have simply decided to leave that miserable trap, leaving behind everything, especially the people around and with me. (Your own family, often, turns out to be a nest of poisoning snakes!) It was a decision I didn’t take, I couldn’t even fathom to take, as I have grown up instilled with a strong accountability feeling… Too bad that I didn’t realise – actually I couldn’t, I was a child, how on earth could I see that I was given the burden of choices made by others? I was a simple servant. My mother’s servant, here on Earth completely at her service, because she, poor thing, in spite of her proclaimed strength and hardness, couldn’t cope!

I had to go through that hell, I know it by now, I needed to train and manifest my stamina and, most of all, my inner values that never turned into evil in response to all that malevolence. (John, I know: you are proud of me!)

Now I am living in a dream. A beautiful home all for me. I can finally expand. Space and time are mine. And I can choose to leave behind all the thought forms impregnated in my existence which distorted everything.

Among the many flights of stairs I have chosen one which seems difficult. It “seems” challenging because it obliges me to drop all the burdens I was carrying. Something very healthy and fulfilling, yes. But the burdens had become my very self, my system had learnt to include them as part of itself. Therefore, it is like cutting off your own flesh now. A necessary surgery though. And quite exhausting.

Sometimes I look around and I see the many other  flights of steps I could have taken. They really seem easier. But they lead to nothing, they are just “trompe l’œil”, but they do give a comforting feeling. Taking the road everyone is taking, no matter where it leads, it’s so comforting to be all together, happy together, following what the invisible rulers of the world impose, promising the “real” happiness to the foolish unaware people. Exactly.

When I look up I see the difficult next step ahead. How will I enter the space waiting for me, the space that this flight of steps is leading to when it seems so high, above my possibility?! Meanwhile I have learnt that if I follow my soul, even on the most difficult path, at the end, when I have to face the last frightening trial, this kind of monster, the Dweller on the Threshold waiting for me, will transform into a celestial welcoming being, which will let me fly over, and pass the terrifying spot, that eventually, looking at it from above, while flying, it won’t seem scary at all!

Yes, miracles happen, and my entire life is full of the continuous wonders I have received, helping me to navigate, safely, the terrible waves I had to face.

 

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The Myth of Books

I taught myself to read. I remember vividly the decision I made as a child of four, that I absolutely needed to read, in order to understand in what kind of awkward reality I ended in.

Everything around was alien to me. There was a strong resonance with my father, but my mother "ordered" him to stop this "friendship" with me: as 'a child is not your friend!' she stated. So, we were both left alone in a world of aliens.

He was a strong reader, so, somehow secretly, he passed me the solution to my bewilderment: reading, because, as he had said to me: 'reading opens you the doors of understanding'.

With five I was reading and eager to understand. Finally I wasn't alone in the strange place I was landed. Books were my friends, and luckily at home there were always books! I could easily begin my adventure to understand the world, the different thoughts, choices, feelings that move people in life.

My future homes became packed with books. It was even redundant: so many, somehow even too many spread in the entire house. 

When in Italy I began to write as a journalist the publishing houses literally submerged me with books they wished me to write a review, and, it was implied, a good review. 

It was then that I made a shocking discovery: there are far too many bland and totally worthless books. And also dangerous books, insinuating or even bluntly declaring twisted things. Yes, reality may appear totally different depending on your point of view. Nevertheless, there are declarations that are totally wrong: if you state that the Earth is obviously flat, because if you look around you see it flat... Well this is false. 

That means that ignorant people, because they ignore many things, state and write wrong things. 

Manipulative intent, because they pursue some hidden agenda, they state and write wrong things. 

Therefore the idea that books open your mind is today a real myth, unfortunately. 

 

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My two sleep cycle

(In medieval time they seemed to sleep all together with children, servants, and even travelers stopping by for the night!)
 

 

I have always liked to get up early. Although the deep night activities of mine: studying to prepare university exams, had a very special intense flair, and I still remember that beautiful feeling of the nights spent in solitude with my favourite activity: studying… But, in spite of that, the very early morning was my real thing.

When all the hustle and bustle of my life was over and I little by little regained a rhythm belonging to me, to my way and preferences, the early morning getting up were my favourite hours. Usually at 6. With the time I woke up earlier and earlier. My getting up normal time became 5.

Then I realised I tended to wake up between two and three and couldn’t get back to sleep again. Therefore the only possible thing was to get up. Difficult to accept this rhythm, because after some hours of activity I did feel sleepy again and I had to go back to bed, where I deeply slept for at least one or even two hours.

I perceived this behavior of my body quite annoying, especially when it was the day when I go to the Turkish bath at half past eight. And without allowing me to the second sleep, my day was completely upside down.

I ended up in changing the time of my Turkish bath to the midday hour, when usually people eat, so that I can enjoy the steamy moment just with myself.

Without even thinking of the possibility that this rhythm was natural, one day I see on YouTube a video about the biphasic sleep pattern, which was common until the industrial revolution, when changes in lifestyle and the advent of artificial lighting shifted sleep habits to a more consolidated 8-hour sleep cycle!

It seems that in medieval times, people commonly practiced two distinct phases of sleep, often referred to as first sleep and second sleep.

-First Sleep:
People would go to bed shortly after sunset, typically around 9 PM.
This initial sleep lasted for about 3 to 4 hours.
-Waking Period:
After the first sleep, individuals would wake up for a period of 1 to 2 hours.
During this time, they might engage in various activities such as reading, praying, or even socialising.
-Second Sleep:
After this waking period, they would return to bed for another 3 to 4 hours of sleep.
This second phase would last until dawn, allowing them to complete their rest.

[The following article is quite interesting:  “The forgotten medieval habit of ‘two sleeps’”]

I have accepted this awkward rhythm of mine. It doesn’t happen frequently though. I would rather prefer it did happen regularly, so that I could adjust to it and make it my normal habit. Perhaps one day it will.

 

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