Author: Andrea Grassi

July was a hard month. I improved my consistency in writing, but in the last days I skipped, mostly because I was overwhelmed by the situation.

I couldn’t honestly foresee that searching for a new house was so demanding and difficult.

Sad truth apart, there were a couple of notable posts I loved to write 🙂

•  the day my mother found my poem again 
•  don’t treat you well when you’re feeling down, do the opposite  
•  empathy and death 
•  no blueprint 
•  women’s lights and the reality of disco 
•  if you have the energy to complain about it, you have the energy to fix it 
•  art and insanity 
•  the tyranny of beauty 

All in all many topics that range from old memories to beauty, I didn’t expect that they would grow like this.

So, although it was a difficult month, it was still worth writing 🙂

It was a day like many others, I came home and knocked at the door of my parents that were living on a different floor of the building.

I only wanted to say hi.

My mother was making some financial calculations for the company she and my father owned.
The light of the sun dimmed slowly in the background, hiding behind the hills in a slow motion dusk.

It was summer and it was hot.
She was in the kitchen, and my brother wearing a light shirt was drinking some cold water.

Her eyes glanced upon me when I entered (my brother opened the door) and smiling she told me “I found your poem for me again”.
She didn’t lost it, but she treasured inside a small box.
The paper was a little bit wore off, showing the signs of the time.

And there it was, my poem. The one I wrote many years ago when I tried to learn how to write them.

I read it again, and instantly realized that it was full of emotions, full of promises, full of the love of a boy, the hidden love of a man.
It was struggling and beautiful, not beautiful in a sense that the poem deserved popularity, but in a intimate sense.

It had a deep connection, and although it was not a piece of art, it was my best and it was still good.

She said to me ” It was so beautiful ” and I understood it. She was right.
And it was beautiful not because of the writing, but because it was a sincere dedication to the love between us.

That day I realized that words can stay in time, and from that day on I started writing more words, not for me, but for the people around me.
Words expressing my feelings and my wishes for them, because I hope one day we’ll all open that small box, in the dim light of the dusk, and remember the good old times telling us that we too, experienced the beauty of life.

There are people that touched us. I believe that’s quite sad to be apart from them, and although life might have gave us different routes, we can still be in touch and ask, learn and connect.

Side thing of the day: Sometimes you have to consider trash part of the work you’ve done before, because it was too light and not deep enough (referring in this case to the whole work I did on Achieveyourbetterself. It was an hell of a work, but looking back I realize that although effective now I consider it outdated)

Few weeks ago I remember talking about an email I accidentally found out after a few years. It reminded me of the old times and so on.

Today I understood the importance of having a journal, even if small, to remember things.
There are so many events in a year, so many things to remember to make life memorable that we should track them somewhat.

It’s important to remember, because even the best minds tend to forget.

Today I took a nice coffee at the bar below. I was a little stressed out because of work and I though “I need something good” and I took a coffee.

From an external perspective this seems great, but then I realized that if we add these reinforcements whenever we are a little bit stressed then we both reinforce the need of “candies” and we consider the stressed situation a tolerable condition, which shouldn’t be.

We should be fully stressed with no way of diminishing the effects.
This way we would understand the full implications of being stressed, of loosing the sensitivity to life and so on.

If we calm down our stress, even for a few minutes, we forget what life and work with a purpose is all about: having passion.
Not a passion of “doing the work you dreamed of”, no. It’s enough to love the work you do, even if it’s not your dream job.

But if we don’t feel the stress we might forget it and accept the situation and we honestly shouldn’t.

Our body reacts to pain, and so should we.