On Love

I will never write about Love.

For when I did

I believed I could capture

Something so uncapturable.

I thought I understood

Something so unexplainable.

When words stay fixed

And are subject to interpretation

While Love is mutable, because alive

Yet fixed

But in the opposite way to words.

I will never write about Love.

For today I don’t know what it is

It is not what I thought it was

What I heard wispered in my ear

Unnumbered times

I wish I never pronounced Its name.

I will never write about Love.

For all definitions

All the teachings

Don’t match with today

And make me question my yesterdays.

I will never write about Love.

For it’s the only thing

We shall not write about

But live

And tell no one

So everyone can be caught by surprise

By a whirlwind

By a smell

By a word

By a coffee

By a kiss.

And know.

Still unable to name it.

What Santiago taught me…. #scatteredthoughts

Santiago… is not a man πŸ™‚ nor an infant πŸ™‚ It could my Eldorado.
Santiago was a destination. A goal. An objective.
Santiago is now a memory.
Santiago is my lesson.

I would say almost 4 years passed since that trip. Only now do I realise what it meant. Or perhaps, I knew even then but on a superficial level. I remember booking a ticket for Bilbao, with return 35 days later, and I left with a backpack. I thought I knew why I left but like it happens… there are reasons for which we do things which stay hidden behind the reasons we tell ourselves and to others. Then at the right moment they pop up.

There I was.
There I am.

I think that trip initiated a list of changes in me, supported by unnumbered situations. Some people, I’ve seen change radically right after the camino. Many don’t change at all, but tell themselves stories about being a changed person. I’ve heard and even met people who never left the camino – are in an endless loop of walking even after 10 years. To me it was complicated to change radically, I wasn’t ready. I probably needed to get slapped by life until I could stand up for myself and say no more. I kept chasing goals, chasing Santiago after Santiago. I kept a well polished and shiny suit to show the world πŸ™‚ The woman I saw I was during that trip, or at least a glimpse of it, I thought was too hard to become… especially from the place I was back then. There really isn’t a map that takes us from here to “ourselves”, is there? There aren’t guidelines. Despite everybody becoming gurus of self loves, self respect, self whatever… there really is no manual! There are no instructions! You can take all the fucking self care baths and eat all the self love chocolate cake you want…. and still if you’re not ready YOU’RE NOT READY! You can say I’m done dating assholes but until life says so you will keep dating those assholes! Sometimes enough comes quick, other times it takes years and years and more errors and more forgiveness and more rerouting. You still need those fake friendships until you’re left alone when you need them for real. You need more empty promises until you start keeping the promises you make to yourself.

Today I asked a friend “what do you want really?”
He looked at me, “I don’t know. I came here for a reason that doesn’t make sense anymore now.”

I was walking around the city. Looking at people. And planning my future. Is Santiago worth it when we lose our health, happiness, and most importantly precious time? I look around and people chase endlessly something believing they will be happy when they get it.
Oh but my life.
My life is now. As I write.
A week. A month. Six months of life…. running, being frustrated, angry. For what?
Is it worth it? Is your dreams worth the price? I asked myself.

…. Is it even my dream? Was I chasing my Santiago or someone else? Because when I chased my Santiago… I felt different. I was truly enjoying every single moment. So much I didn’t care about Santiago at all… I enjoyed the route deeply, passionately. When reached Santiago I kept going… I went further, because after it there is Muxia and also Finisterre. And there the beer tasted sublime watching the sunset or having a 1 minute bath in the ocean! ….

What am I chasing today? Did I come for the right reasons to London?
But I am surely leaving for the good ones.

I wish you to find your Santiago.


On Beauty and Silence

I haven’t written anything on my blog about the book I have written and published this year. Perhaps because it’s in Italian, and most of my readers of this blog are not Italian so I thought why should I even bother to speak about it? … Now I decided I want to translate the poems and will put the translations on my blog in the section Words & Stories.

I never thought I would publish my poetry, perhaps because unlike fiction or other forms of writing, poetry is incredibly intimate. At least my poetry is.
I began writing obsessively last September and it’s not until I had a good amount of poems that I thought to turn them into a book. I had gone through the roughest time of my life, a low I didn’t know how to overcome so I wrote down my feelings as a way to turn pain into something beautiful. Also, I wrote it to never forget and to not allow the same things happen to me again.

This week Italy is raging about the multiple newspapers that write articles about the last femminicidio (woman murdered by a man) case. The headlines excuse him, saying he was a good man, he loved her too much, he didn’t mean it… and yet he killed her. We raise girls in a culture that teaches them to excuse every violent act of men, to understand men, to help them… never mind if we lose our life in pursuit of “saving” him. My book talks about the pain and the consequences for a woman to be in a violent relationship: be it physical or psychological.
Psychologically violent relationships are the most vile, for the simple fact its scars and bruises are unseen on the outside. Many times I tried to confide in another woman (who on the contrary was in a physical relationship with her husband and father of her three children) but she would brush me of saying I am ungrateful and that the man I am with is so good and helpful… I should be ashamed of thinking anything bad of him. Well he was all that she was describing, just not with me. Anyway, somehow he also did the very best thing he could do (I didn’t know at that time though), that being kicking me out of the house – only to try get me back multiple times. Though the moment I was out of there and surrounded by my family and girlfriends, I began to write… to try heal, make sense, make something out of the nightmare I lived in.

On the beauty of life, and on the necessary silence to translate that beauty into words. My book is a reminder to women that they are not alone, that love has nothing to do with violence, that when you start sensing something is not right… it most likely isn’t!

Every word written has a meaning and a reason for being there. Every poem has multiple layers which can be reached differently depending from who reads it and its sensibility. I wrote and wrote only to understand many months later the reasons of those poems and their meaning. And only a year later I asked myself: why did I begin the book with Vasilisa…..(which you can find here).
Why is it the first? Why Vasilisa? Who is she? … Do you know the Russian story of Vasilisa The Beautiful? I wasn’t sure why that name came to my mind when I was thinking of a title to give to this poem, but it makes sense as Vasilisa’s story on a symbolical level stands for the beginning of a quest: the quest of oneself. Vasilisa is a story of female intuition.
So everything, every word, every paragraph, every sentence has a baggage.
I hope it touches you – like it touched me.


P.S. here you can buy a copy of the book πŸ™‚

Beauty & The Beast: Is there a link with the NPD?

Lately I have been absent from the web, and from everything. Struggling with my own personal life, thought to be healed and instead kept falling down over and over again… wondering how after one year of working hard on myself I still find myself crying for someone I can only describe as a narcissistic asshole.
Talking to my girlfriends this year I realised I have not been the only one falling into the illusory fairytale trap of a man who is an avid manipulator, a violent, and someone who is all but a good person. In psychology there is a Mental Disorder called Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and while many may have a few traits here and there… some are pathological narcissists. Of course I stumbled upon him.

I actually don’t know where I found the strength to do all that I have achieved this year after the official (official? Can it be official when he periodically found ways to get back into my life for his vital supply?) break up: I wrote a book! I began filming my first documentary! I also started a holistic training and begun learning about the healing powers of nature! Meanwhile I also worked! I bought myself the car of my dreams! I discovered true friendship! …. All this while inside there was still an ongoing battle. At my every high, I would get an email from him and I fell down again: how dare you feel well and happy and achieved? This trap of not deserving anything, especially that what I so hardly work for…

Last week, as I was reading about the NPD disorder and researching about the traits of the victims to understand myself better and deeper, I photo of the film Beauty & The Beast popped up. I had a flash! There is something wrong with this beautiful and romantic fairytale. The more one studies about psychology, the more one gets deeper glimpses at the true messages hidden behind the romance, cartoons, fairytales….
What happens to girls when we teach them that their love and patience and care-taking will change the best into a beautiful human?
How many of us still live that myth? How many of us still silently hope and pray “he” will eventually change? How many of us hide the scars of a life spent curing someone else’s wounds? How many of us believe that a woman must be just loving, understanding, patient? …. Belle teaches us that. She is perfect beyond just the appearance. She is presented to us as someone strong, whose love goes beyond the physical appearance of the other. She can see his wounded self and she can love the beast. Eventually she wins. And THAT ladies and gentlemen is a fairytale. In reality we, the Belle in real life, lose our sense of self, our light, our beauty, our friends, our independence. Having to do with someone who manipulates our reality and our thoughts, who is psychologically violent and yet we love him is just a complete waste of energy. Unless. Unless we use that relationship to understand more about ourself.
Perhaps it is time to ask the right questions and the time to answer them. Sometimes this means to go back to the past, somewhere in your childhood. I recommend getting the help of someone, sometimes a friend is not enough.

What makes me think of the link between NPD and the beast? …. Simply because as a coincidence he acts just like a pathological narcissist: everything revolves around him, his rage and mood swings make everyone afraid of him, he doesn’t accept being contradicted, he isolates Belle from everything and everyone (oh but still gives her the best room, the best dresses… and makes her feel that “it’s not so bad after all). She eventually falls in love with him (ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome? … it’s a mechanism of survival, you fall in love with your tyrant) because if there is no way out, well the best you can do is find a way to survive inside. You mask your fear and your hatred with love.
In reality. Trust me. And I never thought I would say this: your beast will never change. No matter how many promises he makes to you. He will from time to time abandon you, then come after you. Meanwhile he already has a net of other women (Belles) who supply that energy and “love” he feeds of. He plays the victim and the hurt one just to tender your heart, this way he awakes your compassions… and makes you doubt everything you believed about him so that you fall into it yet another time. An infinite spiral.

An infinite spiral of hurt.

Now imagine for a moment what you could do with that energy you throw away his direction? πŸ™‚ 
Today is in fashion to talk about self love. Everybody seems to be an expert of self love and offers courses, remedies, online therapy, self love coaching… grab the best offer. Yet there is really no manual for it. To say: do what makes you feel good; do what you love; eat the food you love; exercise if you like; post a photo of your naked imperfect body as a statement of self love… means really nothing. Why? Because very few of us even know what is it that we deeply deeply want. What we deeply deeply love. What truly truly makes us smile. Nobody ever taught us where to find that nor how. We don’t have the instruments. And when you lived many years of your life surrounded by people (whether in your family or in false friendships or at work) who constantly mine that little self esteem and self assurance…. it becomes hard to know who you want to be for your self.
However, with that energy I regained I imagine putting it into my projects and my art. That polarised attention I put it onto my girlfriends. The trying to constantly understand the other, I finally want to understand what is it that I so desperately missed as a child, how was this little girl treated, and become that who she needs. At times someone strict at times not. To be your own parent means to finally take full responsibility of your life. It means you will stop relying on other people such as your parents (if you still have them), your partner and whoever else thinks they know you better than you know yourself. Others can only have an idea of you, see only a small part of who you are and feel entitled to give an opinion about the way you live.

Use wisely and cherish your energy and attention. Care for you. Nobody else will but you.


Bye Instagram

And at last it happened! I deleted my instagram account πŸ™‚
The following day I receive an email from my German agent asking if all was ok, what happened and if maybe I changed name. All was and is ok.

There is a real world here and I was starting to miss it out. The thing is that the most beautiful things I do or see I never share online, also the best moments and the people I love the most I never share them either. I tried many times to keep my instagram “real” and not follow the trends to gain followers but I still realise I get in a mindset I don’t like. I can’t control it, I begin obsessing over getting new content, new publishing material, what if I don’t show that at the moment I haven’t been working? Will people label me as looser? What if I don’t show them how successful I am… what if I don’t show them how happy I am… What if what if what if. Lucky the one who is immune to it! I am certainly not.
In my profession having instagram today is crucial, yet I have agents who should guarantee me the work. We models forget that. It’s very easy today to get a girl with +10k followers to book jobs…. but can you get a girl booked if she has no followers? Where are those booker’s skills then? I dropped agents in the past when they started telling me unless I reach 10K they will not book me a job, well that goes against my philosophy.

Instagram has the ability to rewire your brain. Many bend their reality, change their bodies, have plastic surgery, choose the right friends, choose the right girlfriend… to be photogenic for instagram!!! Are we crazy? As if that intangible world is more important than our physical one. Instagram gives you the illusion of reality, because the thoughts and images you create in your head are the way you access emotions but the problem is that you are not connected to your body. Another problem is that the people you start interacting with that you have never actually met before create after a while an illusion of friendship and “knowingness”.

I am still here though. More alive and ok than ever. Funny how people immediately think one has problems if she gets off line, no?
One thing that I had been thinking about was … 15 years there wasn’t social media, how was I keeping inΒ  contact with friends? Well I wasn’t! Or rather, I had the phone number of those who interested me or email address but after a while unless I was physically seeing them we would lose touch and to each his/her own life. Today there is this crazy belief or myth we must keep in contact with everyone and see what everyone is doing. Well I thought: what if I stop keeping contacts through social media? What if I start looking around myself more? What if instead of looking at millions of photos I start travelling the world? …. There is a photo of every magical place on Earth, or so they make you believe, but aren’t you tired of looking at photos? Everywhere we live beauty is offered to us but we look for a prepackaged beauty, we look for someone to point out that that is beautiful. That is worthy of instagram. That is worthy of thousands of likes. You are worthy of thousands of likes… oh but if you’re not reaching that then you are certainly unworthy, uninteresting, etc.

Illusions…. when are you going to give up on them?