I am a virgin of the world

First day in Anjuna:

I was amazed from what I wasn’t expecting to find.

I’ve never seen anything as wild and rough as this place.

I was in bed, devoured by a massive headache, seriously, I’ve felt like my head was going to melt and my brain would splatter around the room. Gross,I know, but I got even worried I’ve taken some drugs because it was worse than a post Mdma headache.

I’ve never been out of Europe, the longest distance I’ve ever reach was London.

I am a virgin of the world.

For me leaving the city was a challenge.

If you’ve been reading my latest post you probably missing a middle part of my life.

That is because there’s nothing much to say about my latest years in London.

I’ve been working pretty much every day maintaining 3 jobs on my lap. No time for myself whatsoever apart from those morning hours spent in the magic of Hamish’s shala and the incredible evening spent knowing what was going to become one of my greatest friend perhaps a sister from another life.

I got over my pain taking deep and slow breathing, looking at myself.

I got over my self- destructive addiction by looking at it without being scared to talk about it openly. I can for the first time say “I AM GOOD NOW, I’M HEALED”.

But my life during that time has definitely changed again when I’ve moved house, fighting my fear of not being able to be loved, because let’s be honest, I’ve never allow myself to make real friends breaking my  comfortably numb state.

I’ve moved in a house with other 5 people and I am blessing every moment of the time I’ve spent with them. As Sofia told me right before I moved: “this is going to be good for you”, her fucking psychic power strike again.

There I’ve meet Louise, and my life has definitely taken another path.

She’s what I’ve never gone for, a smiling shining woman. When I’ve meet her I just thought she was high and I got really scared of her way to be so open to the world.

She helped me to believe in myself, to believe in the practice,to open myself up in way that I didn’t know was possible, she show me how to hug people freely.

She is a hugger, she would dispense hugs without me asking for, something that I felt special as nothing before. Really how could I have lived without hugging anybody never before?

Without any of our dreams sharing morning coffee, and late shared skies I wouldn’t probably be where I am right now. That is right, in that final stage of my life in the city meeting her has been the greatest gift from the universe and from the practice because there is where me meet.

Call it luck, call it casualty, I call it Magic of the practice, is the practice that tune in with yourself and give you back when you need it mostly.

Thanks to her I’ve meet Peter Sanson, my teacher. He’s the reason why I am going to New Zealand.

He’s the person that in one of the most scary/lost moment of my life has held my hand and kept me going.

I am grateful to Hamish as my first teacher because his gentle approach has for the first time made me able to trust a man touching my body and is kindness has got into me when I need it, I’ve learn how to be kind with myself trough him.

He’s been the best person for me for that first part of my practice but when I’ve meet Peter, for the second time a couple of months ago I’ve just felt an incredible magic that left me tearful for days.

Is something I cannot still explain, but I just know I have to study with him.

But those aren’t the only reason of my departure.

I’ve decided to jump when I’ve discovered a stranger in my dreams.

I’ve meet this stranger in real life but I can barely remember his face, we’ve been for some reasons in contact via electronic universe for years before starting to meet up in dreams.

His wildness and freedom has inspired me to push myself out of my comfort zone.

Talking to him trigger in me an inner strength I didn’t know I could have and somehow he universe always respond in a positive way every time we speak together, but I will explain this after.

I left my job inspired by the few words we would share together and I’ve booked my trip to India.

I kept on dreaming about him, dreaming I would meet him some days on this journey.

While I am crawling in bed listening to the rain falling sharply around me my head keep wondering to the thoughts of the people I left and to the dreams I just cannot push away.

I have to say that leaving Louise wasn’t easy but the reason why it felt right is because I want our friendship to be real, I didn’t want to rely on her, we need it to grew apart in order to became something that could have never been swept away. I am thinking about her while lying here listening to the rain, my body hurt, is the first time in my practice history that I felt myself physically unable to do it, to let my body just be, to feel it.

I am feeling great in way.

I made it, I am here in this stranger land, alone, in a house hidden in the jungle where I could hear the sound of the sea when there’s no rain.

Initially there was the happiness.

But the first day is always a slow settling. Is the easy part, when the body is adjusting and it doesn’t give space to either mind of soul to feel anything else rather than pain.

 

 

 

Free breathing with sound

Is been a while since I’ve last wrote on this platform. I’ve taken a break because I need it to figure out many things in my life, I need it to put things back in the right places.

Since then many things have changed.

What I am living now is many different from what I was living before. I’ve set myself free. I am in the world.

And for this I have to thanks the practice.

I left London a couple of months ago and I’ve started my new journey, my journey into the world, I’ve decided to climb the highest hill and embrace fully my deepest fear: LONELINESS.

If I look back, when everything started, back in my beginners years, I can’t believe I make it till here.

I’m serious, who though that the crazy anxious self destructive person that I was would have make it till here, where I am now, India, without making herself victim of some sort of self punishing relationship or crazy control freak system of soul.

Yeah, you got it right, I move away from the city and I’ve jumped on a plane that landed in Goa, Anjuna to be precise, that crazy party land where most of the people go to get wasted out of their eyes, to walk on the lysergic shaped moon and swim into the pink fleshed sea.

Well if you’ve been reading my blog by now you should know who I was and you should have intuited where I am trying to shape myself in away, what I am trying to “achieve”, although I am coming to the conclusion that the only thing worth achieving is Love for every being in the universe and not perfection of thoughts, body or whatever.

My commitment is to share with you my adventure, my vision, my dreams in this journey that started in India and It will lead me to New Zealand in a non traditional way that I will reveal you later int this blog.

 

This is an introduction to my new life, actually, this isn’t right.

This is the first time I feel like I am living and breathing freely.

This is my free breathing journey “with sound”, and I would like to start it by showing you my first sunset into the spelled village of Anjuna, the way it was when I arrived there, the 6th of September, still blessed my the monsoon abundance.

 

 

Quirking pain: a recipe for slow healing

Marichyasana D, for who is not familiar with this pose in yoga I will give you  little explanation of what it is, it’s a twist, basically, a pose dedicated to Marichi aka the vedic Adam, father of humanity. Does it say anything?Probabily it doesn’t, especially if you are very much as I was, a great unbeliever, but everything can change trust me. Sooner or later the faith arise,if you want  to of course.

However in this pose you are basically suppose twist the opposite side of your body while you are in half lotus and grab your wrist pushing down your hip. Very complicated to understand by verbal explanation (have a look at this link to understand more about it: http://www.ashtangayoga.info/practice/primary-series-yoga-chikitsa/item/marichyasana-d/).

When I got this pose, my first reaction was: “wow, finally some real action,some pain!”

After a couple of months of pushing and burning,finally I did it and it hurt it badly!

Everyday when I was about to get to that pose I would cringe my face badly, and start to push. My knee was burning and it felt like the bones where going to crack as soon as I was able to sort of twist a little.

Was like a proper hell,an unfinished business with myself.

One day I couldn’t really handle anymore and while I was holding my breath trying to get into the pose I saw Hamish running toward me.

“Does it hurt?” he asked pointing to my knee

“Yes it does” I’d replied tearful

“So stop it!” he said harsh

In that moment I felt defeated and I let go.

I couldn’t hide the fight anymore, He found out about the hate I was cuddling, he read my intentions: I was enjoying hurting myself.

Nobody could get my new way of abusing myself , but he did.

Suddenly I felt exposed to him, he was able to read me in a way that I cannot really explain.

Thank god was friday the day that my mask fell down, I didn’t have to see him for two days as I didn’t use to practise on Sunday.

That Sunday I got a call from Satirka.

He called from a number I did not know, and when I pick up the phone and I’ve heard his voice I was unprepared on what to say to him, I wasn’t expecting to hear from him.

The phone call was really quick, we talked about random stuff, he told me we might see each other again. I was holding those words tightly.

The following Monday I felt sick as never before, my body crashed down with fear, my muscles were weakened and I could not move from my bed for the next 7 days.

For the first time in ages I had a shivering fever that seemed not to go away.

During that week I was alone in the flat.

Juliette just recently had fallen in love with what was going to be the man she would have married, she was always staying at his place and although that week she was trying to stay next to me as much as she could, trying to help me to get better, I was pushing her away.

I was angry with myself, furious indeed, I knew what all of that was meaning and I couldn’t accept the truth, It was hard to do so, hard to accept that the person you want the most wasn’t right for you, your body was a reflection of that, your sickness was a message from your soul. What the hell!How could I accept the truth of how bad Satirka was for me?How could I admit that my soul was getting sick after just hearing his voice and grow hope toward the idea of being with him again one day?

Why this was happening?

The shivering and the pain through all my body that week was unbearable. By the end of it I felt like I was dead and re-born again.

I felt like a real new beginning.

Now was time to recover, I knew that.

But in order to do that had to face again my monsters.

I went back to practise and realize that “be-here-now” was not there anymore.

I went back home and I found it empty.

Everyday more and more I could feel the walls whispering silence.

Juliette was never there and when she was I’d started to push her away pretending that I need it my space as much as she need it to be in Love.

In reality I was feeling abandoned.

It was the same feeling I had when my sister left my mum’s house when I was 15.

And I was craving loneliness in some way that I cannot really explain.

The more lonely I was the more I wished to be.

I was isolated. Going to practise in the morning, going to work afterwards and coming back home, inside my darkness, diving back in deeply.

All the sudden I felt like I was trapped within myself again. I felt the need of self sabotaging myself. The need for pain.

As I couldn’t get the ultimate pain from the practise I was craving for another way to hurt myself.

Before I’d realized I was doing it again. Back to the hold pattern of my longtime friend called Bulimia.

It was easier this time as I was always alone in the house, nobody could really see my pain exploding,nobody could hear me a everyone was so far from me.

My sister couldn’t surely read my through by phone and the people I had around me they had no idea that I had that seed sow in my past. I was safe to explore my pain, safe to hurt myself.

Every night when I was coming back from work, after making sure that Juliette wasn’t going to be back, I was finding myself crawling on the pavement of my small bathroom. I didn’t really want to tho but it was just happening.

Again and again, unbearably.

Sometimes it would happen before practise, sometimes twice in one night,when I was off from work especially was a nightmare splattered inside my brain.

I was crying silent tears and I really want it someone to come and help me, I really want some love but I didn’t know how to look for it. I didn’t know how I could have been loved.

I was lost. My reality was squashing me inside. The city, the distance, the friends I was afraid to call, the friend I was afraid to show my weakness too.

All I had was the practise.

Was hard waking up in the morning with my eyes puffed, my throat scratched and my breath shortened by the absence of energy within my body.

I used to sleep few hours and then once the alarm was going off I used to pump myself with coffee,get ready and go.

The shala was the only place where I could feel safe.

Hamish has recently given me navasana although I still was not able to bind in marichyasana, was in that ultimate pose, the one that seemed the simplest to me that I could feel the miss connection with my core.

My body was a stranger to me and I was treating it without respect abusing it and damaging it.

Somehow I knew he could see what was happening with me but instead of acting he was just there every morning looking at my body evolving, supporting me gently.

I knew he knew about the hate that I was pouring on my own flesh, he could see my face change, he could see my body changing.

One day especially I remember walking in the shala and encountering his eyes,full of kindness and support.

That day was when I decided to seek for help, that day was when I decided to get better .

Hamish and his kindness moved me so deeply that I though: “I don’t deserve this!I deserve love!”.

I ran in the arms of Sofia after practise and I told her everything, and I told her that I want it to get better, I was tired of hurting myself, tired of ll the violence and the hate I was feeding my soul with, tired of being scred to be alone.

Her words are still remarkable to me: ” I know what you are going through, I can see your pain, and I am glad you want to get better, remember that in a way is better to face it now that later because you are going to be so strong after you’ve been through this, you are going to be ready for anything, hold tightly, because you can do this and everything is going to be good, you’ll be able to be alone!”

I was starting to rebuild my life again from scratch and I had to do on my own,starting to know and trust my body, my ultimate discovery, my new friend.

Little by little, ready to forgive and to give time to myself.

Once again: ” Rome wasn’t built in a day”.

 

 

 

 

Twisted mind unleashed

Late January, still scattered by the recent bad trip I was trying to get hold of my life again. Sometime I would walk down the main street for hours trying to find the courage to look up at the sky and said to  myself that I was fine. Wasn’t really a long lasting feeling.

All I was able to do was walking down to the park, have a little go around and then a soon as I would start to feel the emptiness of all those memories grabbing me I was running back into my safe spot, trying to watch a movie, trying to control my urge for food, for thoughts, for love, for everything that was making me feel warm inside and a little less lonely. Was all happening during my time off and luckily Juliette was single and was spending most of her time next to me. She was everything and I was loving her, loving being around her, loving her for being my friend. I was trying to be my best with her but I was not real, I still didn’t know my pain, I was just trying to make myself better feeding my soul with the though of Satirka perhaps coming back one day  into my life. I was getting ready for it.

Sofia however she wasn’t giving me hope. She was harsh with me, and I really didn’t like that, I didn’t like her making me feel judged but I’d found my way to go around that, I was just trying to hide my thoughts from her,avoiding her most of the time,she couldn’t criticise the way I was doing things,living life. Was like I was rebelling to my mother in a way, or more precisely to my sister as she’s always been the one that was able to read me through; and don’t forget that lately I wasn’t really calling my sister much. I want it to do things my way and I didn’t want no one to criticise me especially I didn’t want the ones that I knew were right to tell me what I was doing wrong. I like to break my head, remember? Kamikaze on.

Juliette was safe, she was never going to tell me that I was wrong, she was with me on everything, we both had our demons to feed. And we love each other deeply but It was not healthy. At least it wasn’t for me.

I was starting to anchor to her, relying on her without developing my life fully.

I started again to be a little maniac regarding food, but I smartly did it labelling myself. Healthy eating was getting really popular at the time and I couldn’t miss the chance.

I became vegan and mostly raw . Was there a better way to avoid public gathering and to justify my food in front of others?

Sofia didn’t discuss my choice however, she respected. In the end I was still  newbie and all this people life, none could ever wonder who was hiding under my thick builded skin. At least I though so.

The day that I came back to practise I was all cranky and sort of “shy”. Right, you heard that,the arrogant bitch had step aside!

Hamish was there and so was his new assistant. I don’t really know if she was really new tho, new to me surely but probably not new to that role. Whatever I never seen her before but that time I could not notice her when she came to adjust me.

Her foot tattoo was quite remarkable: “be here now”, every time she was walking over me I was feeling something arising inside me, a joy that I didn’t know before. She was soft, she was kind with me.

God that girl was doing something to me with her hands, she was pouring courage into my bones.

I was always sort of shy to find out more about her,but didn’t took me much to realize that was the same girl who talk to me when I went to the yoga dinner earlier that december! I remember the way she approach me in the dinner was so friendly that I though: “who is she?how did she even notice me in the shala? what does she want from me?”,(by now I think you got the fact that all the friendly stuff was the real big deal from me to get).

Her name I could not remember, Jeffa, Tessa, God’s  know, all I knew it was that she was Australian, at least that was what I got from our little conversation. But who cares about what was her name or where she was from, she was “BE HERE NOW” for me, that was how I started to call her from that day and funny enough she was one of the reason of why I stick to that place. She gave me hope,she make me believe that I could do that some day, I could get to be comfortable with all those movements, comfortable with my body changing and stuff.

Be here now was my friend, although she probably still didn’t know that I used to think we had a secret deal to practise next to each other, indeed the time she was on her mat before me I used to try to practise on the spot next to her or at least closer to her, and weirdly she was doing the same. Somehow in fact we’ve been practising next to each others for months, was like if some sort of magic was making this happening all the time. I need it that more than anything, I need it to feel some love in that place where I was learning how to open myself, but I need it some safe love, I was desperate to find a friend that helped me to understand all of that.

She was my friend and she didn’t know how important was for me the way she approached me while I was trying to fight with the posture.

When I started to do  marichyasana D  everything started to came to the surface and I began the biggest fight with myself, and with Marlene, my ego,still really present within my life.

 

The illusion of time and the unlovable Me

Sleepless nights and dreams about him.

He was inside me.

Falling asleep was a scary task as every time I was closing my eyes, He was there. And every time I was awake again M was next to me and I was in some sort of guilt shock.

I had to make it stop.

It was a warm sunny morning when after saying goodbye to M, I decided I need it to go and see him.So I went.

He was trying to avoid me but not really. He was expecting me, he want me.

I went to the squat where he was staying,covering his friend that was away.

We talked for hours, after an initial fight where I was accusing him to try to sabotage my feelings.

Our relationship started like that.By feeling each other presence in the room holding our bodies for a lapse of time that seemed infinite.

It was the strongest embodied feeling I’ve ever experienced. It was incredible.

When I left I felt different, like I had an organic explosion in my soul. The sky was changing color thousand times while I was looking at it.

M was at home that night, he got there before me.

I told him everything, as Satirka said to do, I had to be honest. While I was telling him the truth of my feelings toward Satirka he was just standing without saying a word in front of me. I was really scared as I thought he would have gone mad and done something stupid or violent. Instead he was dismissed. He said he could understand why that was happening and he said that he didn’t deserve me as he was making me unhappy. M was stepping aside letting my relationship with Satirka develop. It was strange.

Few weeks after he moved out.

I was in a limbo, balancing my new independent life between the love of two person.

On one side there was M, I was keeping the hope alive in him, It was nice to be feed by his love, nice to make him think that perhaps if he was going to change we could have been together.

On the other side there was Satirka, the passion was burning between us. The love for each other was beyond my understanding. With him I was feeling great and I was acting greatness. I wasn’t myself next  to him I couldn’t let him see my vulnerability.

I was protecting myself floating on the surface of a sexual relationship without giving space to any real feeling to show themselves to the surface. I was playing a dirty game of guilt and charm.

I was inebriated by him, by his way of playing with my energy, with my body, with my thoughts.

I was trying to prove something to him and I was failing to be.

It was a one direction relationship, he was opening and I wasn’t interested to listen. I wasn’t interested to open my soul to him. He was feeling my rejection ,challenging my way of being.

Marlene was there, acting her way thought the 2 relationships.

Myself was instead thinking that I wasn’t worth his consideration.

Truly I was really damage inside and he could see that. He could see that I was searching a patch for my inner loneliness, for my inner sense of uselessness.

One day he left.

His last words where “I am a just a projection, you don’t need me to be happy and remember that time is just an illusion”

I was devastated and I went to look for M, trying desperately to save my soul from that scary downward spiral of emptiness.

I could not be abandoned again. All my life I have been abandoned. My father, my mother’s boyfriend, my sister. I felt that I wasn’t worth the love of nobody. I could not be love.

M didn’t want to be found by me, he didn’t want to be used bandage  for my weakened bones.

Overwhelmed by all that buzzing coming back to my ears, a crime of control that I wasn’t able to stop.

Yoga found me during days of restlessness.

I wasn’t sleeping almost completely, waking up few times every night with deep penetrating pain in my wrist, feeling my hands bone so frail that they could almost crumble underneath my skin.

I got to Yoga knowing nothing about it, Mysore astanga yoga was a particularly fancy definition to me and that is what attracted me the most.

 

Twerking with the Dalai Lama -Part 1

San valentine day.

I was feeling full of love…somehow.

M has never been up for celebrating such a day,neither was I…I mean, you know I didn’t really wanna show to the world that in the end I was a romantic, someone who like to receive flowers  and a little bit of extra attentions with a silly excuse…In the end is nice to be “normal” sometimes;however that wasn’t surely the part that I want people to see about me, I want it to be cool so I’ve always kind of ignored such a festivity in the past,and that day I would have done the same if it wasn’t for the fact that was saturday and luckily I was given the following sunday and monday off. The timing was perfect and I was ready.

I don’t know how I got to that point, I mean, ME, the judgemental little fashion girl who was all about cool people with cool jobs and things like that was now open to go to a rave party to meet people from nowhere and with “nothing in their hands” ;people like Satirka.

Since M first rave some months have passed by and I couldn’t forget the peace he was irradiating after that little adventure, nothing was like before from then. M had change and although was still pretty wrapped up in his hash addiction, those little precious moments where he was himself, I could see how he was striving to change a little bit, he was trying to be more like Satirka and not just under the drug related point of view, he was also trying to be more open and less judgemental about the world breathing around him. So was I, since Satirka and since Sofia’s jump inside my life I was changing little by little, scattering away the dust from things and trying to be free from my own self.

That night I’ve dressed up with love, picking the outfit really carefully. I was about to step into his world and I want it to do it at my best,spreading love in that wicked night.

I was wearing an American Apparel layered skater skirt in dusty pink, red tights and one of my hand painted t-shirt showing the window of the house in front of our old room in the west  suspended upon a sky of red balloon. I was love and that was what I want it to get from that night.

Find a party wasn’t easy.

Apparently since last Halloween,when a big rave was held in Holborn as a protest for some kind of new legislation (I’ve never been a political girl); the police wasn’t so  kind on those illegals parties anymore, instead they started to show no tolerance  and they also seemed to be on some sort of mission against them.

However toward midnight we’ve found one,deep digged down the way of new cross, in the middle of an apparently abandoned industrial area far away from anything recognizable as what I so far knew about London.

Was a bit scary and indeed very fascinating.

I was tight to his arm and I was secretly wondering if he would have been there tonight. I hadn’t seen Satirka for months and I had just little information about him,I had snapped them from M trying to being discrete.

Apparently he was kind of sad, in a weird place in his relationship, his girlfriend had moved out the squat and found a place for herself in another squat with friends and she started to re-consider their relationship for some reasons we didn’t get to know. I was secretly giggling about it because that was representing for me some hope.A door was being open on his side, a glimmer of light was passing trough.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him…fuck!That could have been so dangerous under the influence of psychedelics!

We got to the place after an hour of wandering around completely lost and with a ridiculously suspicious behaviour;we were full of drugs to sell a usual an a little oversight  could have been fatal both for the business both for us;we really didn’t want to get caught especially before the party started.

From the outside you could see nothing, there was few people waiting and few security guys dressed in black. The security guys were spread around on the street on some sort of watching ritual alerted to spot police within a couple of second and to send a recognizable sign in the case of seeing some. That kind of spying technique was really entertaining and was making everything sound much more special.

Inside the space wasn’t big at all, really small indeed, with low ceiling covered with psychedelic ornaments that seemed to be very colourless with a unalderated vision like was mine at the beginning of my new adventure. The place had been relocated 3 times before I was told as the previously locations were being shut by the police. Everything was sounding so special, so perfectly blended in a mix of mystery,secret, unknown and of course spiced up a little by a touch of fear.

I was happy to be there between those people who seemed not to care about anything else apart from the music.

And the music was for me an issue as I’ve never heard psytrance music before and I was almost sure I wasn’t going to like it or I wasn’t going to be able to dance on it.

The party was about to begin.

With us we had some Lsd, apparently what it was one of the most powerful acid you could find, they were called Dalai Lama and the concentration of Lsd in them was extremely high. Something to handle with care has M was told from Satirka, something not to be wasted as extremely special and quite hard to find. Not to mention of course that the price for one of them was way more high that and average acid in the uk market. 11 £ each when you were buying more than 10 or otherwise 15£ in case of a singular purchase. We obviously had stored up and bought 11 a little for us and a little to sell to our friends. I bought some myself too, I was always happy to invest my money in Lsd.

We had some of that incredible indian Ketamine supplied by our landlord but I wasn’t so keen on it due to the not so nice experiences I had lately, and after knowing Satirka aversion on it I’d decided to take a break from it, especially in the case of acid consume. I want it to have the purest experience with those apparently insane “Dalai Lama”.

 

So it begins the night…

London,dealer of self packed reality

We landed in on a rainy day of March.

Was busy,crowded,fast.

I never saw so many people moving around so fast,so focus so nervous.

Rush hour on  a friday afternoon,world moving around, new faces new environment.

I was feeling scared and instead I was showing my strongest side holding my two luggage on the street heading to the place recommended to find  easily a cheap place to sleep.

We didn’t have any plan at all, we didn’t know anybody that was there already.We were alone.

M was positive, he was laughing all the time looking around with dreams spelled eyes, his wonder was contagious.

I still remember the sweet smell of the shisha in Bayswater, the shiny duck hang on the restaurant windows, the huge roll of kebab adorned with citrus on the top, the abundance of fruits on the street stalls ,the asian supermarket with exotic frozen cut of meat.

The air of Bayswater was refreshed by the magic of a subtle rain. The sky was grey,the light looked soft and tired. In my head “rainy day in soho” by  Nick Cave.

Finding a place to sleep wasn’t so easy and wasn’t cheap.

For the first week we hang around changing rooms and hostels quite often.

We felt lost. I was behaving strong, M was falling apart, feeling the distance,missing his friends, I never saw that side of him before, I never saw his weakness but now was pretty clear to me as it was sober, he hadn’t had any drugs for the whole time we where there and that was the first time since I’ve met him.

Didn’t last long, we quickly discover that one of our fella from Italy was there.I was trying to avoid the contact as I knew where it was going to lead us.

But he need it, he need it a friend, someone of his old reality, someone who could help him to know what to do next.

We went to his house later that week and we got what we came for and I also got a job in the place where the fella was working.

M still didn’t have a job but now he had a contact and some people to smoke out with.

I was scared, I didn’t come to London to party, to get arrested, I did it for my sister.

I need it to get out from Italy before it was too late for me, before I had destroyed myself.

And although now I can say that moving here was the best thing I could have done for myself, at the time I didn’t know.

Leaving my sister was painful, I remember her face when I told her I was moving, I remember my little niece being barely able to walk and I look at her now running,swimming,talking freely as just a kid can do. Leaving them was the hardest part, with them I left a big chunk of myself exposed to the world, everyday I remember the pain of the moment were I cut the big string that was feeding each other and I flew away.

Coming here was for me the way to grow my own personality and I felt I didn’t want to waste any minute of my journey as I didn’t do it to have fun , I never been so keen of this city,It just felt the right thing to be doing in my life.Following your path request a lot of sacrifice and for me that is represented by the moments that I’ve lost with my niece, I didn’t saw her growing, my brother becoming grey,my mother growing older, my dog dying, my grandma changing from the strong self sufficient woman to the fragile living being that she’s now.

We found a house share in shepherd bush market, our flatmates they were from italy too.

M found a job after a while however living with him in this new reality was showing me the truth of his being.

I felt as I was becoming a mother of a troubled child.

I was frustrated, the job was painful, demanding.

I was working as a waitress, long hour,shit pay. Coming back home late in the evening smelling of fried bacon and cheap coffee I was so desperate for a homely hug but instead M was crawling on the couch smoking his day out and so I was doing the same.

We work a little and then we got enough.

We both quit our job and we decided to take it easy,getting to know the city before and perhaps toward the end of our saving we would have found a job or moved to another city.

We both felt the urge to party that night that we quit, need it to release frustration and unhappiness.

So we did, we went out, with our old friend from italy.

However the night was unsuccessful, no drugs around, and the ketamine it was shit cheap stuff.

Disappointed we left the club around 3 am and we went to get stoned at home.

Horrible night,horrible music,environment. What was that? Where was the beauty,the sparking crazy night that London was known for?

Was in that M saw a new job opportunity and everything started again.

We remember of a contact given to us while we were surfing the clouds with a dude during one of the most crazy after party I’ve ever been. We call him.

A couple of days after,we were discovering an unknown part of London.I quickly feel in love with the sensuous dark and homely appear of this side, so different from where we lived.

The guy  was living in a splashy fun house somewhere. He was funny,his house was adorned with fun and hospitality.

He was our new Ketch supplier. His stuff was insane;as anything we ever tried before.

M was shining on his way down to home,I started crying from the fearof being chained up, far from my beloved,in a place where I didn’t know laws and whatsoever. M was reassuring me that it was going to be easy,that I shouldn’t be worry.

When we got home I decided to put my thoughts behind and try to accept our new role in the london society.

Let’s see what is going to happen.

We went partying again some days later, Fabric this time.

Again we were disappointed from the clubbing scene in the city, It was pathetic, It was like everyone that was around that night had no clue of who was playing and had no interest to feel the music. People were more focused on getting wasted out of their eyes with alcohol instead of tuning in with the music and let their body moving freely upon it.

Was different of what we were use to. People didn’t like to listen, people like to get out of their mind, like to forget disliking to get in depth.

I though that in Italy the clubbing scene was made of gummy shaped human but here was even worst, people were like solid bunch of alcoholic distortion, they were inelegant, unearthly attached to the bar and to the toilet to sniff some “freshly grated wall”

I got the point why no one was using or selling drugs here, there was no point of doing it as people like to drown themselves in alcohol. However ketamine was the right partner for them as it didn’t request any withdraw and any particular wait. It was pretty much straight forward and people like the fact that it was just temporary.

On our first “shift” we made 200 pound, not bad.

I spent my first drug money to buy art material and t-shirts. I started creating again, dreaming to be able to have my own brand, to be able to sell my creations.

We were both living our little dream and was beautiful.

The spring was blossoming outside, we were together in our surreal builded reality, in our little special world made of lies to our parents and of several trip towards our supplier’s house.

The light outside was warm and kind and we loved to spent part of our day lying down on the grass in the nearest park playing around with a kite or just being together.

We were breathing together our uncertain sometimes slightly dangerous life.

I knew it wasn’t going to last forever but I felt the need to enjoy it.Enjoy the flowers discovering the sun, the light breath of the wind.

I loved to hear the birds singing outside our living room window.

We need it some time to settle, to get back together again on that sacred place were we meet and we feel in love.

Mescaline London

My life was starting to change.

I could feel it deeply inside.

From the moment that I have infused my soul with LSD my mind was perceiving stuff that I never thought about it  before.

I started painting again.

I got inspired by one of the latest party, a party fuelled by mescaline tulips;party that brought me extremely near to death when  I had to drove back home.4 hours of drive ahead of me under mescaline. I saw myself distorted into a curvy ocean waved road and although I make it home without trouble I got so scared that I stayed in my room for 2 days afterwards,with no energy to get out of it. One of the greatest experience that I had and also the one that make the picture clear. I wasn’t fitting in that club padded enviroment,it just wasn’t working for my feelings wondering nature.

I then started painting  and I gave up partying.

To do so I had to find a good excuse for M, something that sounded more like I can’t instead of I don’t want to.

I didn’t want to show my true self, I didn’t want to reveal what I was, the loaner,cozy and reflective girl who liked staying at home talking to people, I was afraid that he was going to leave me for that or to make me feel useless. And he would have done that,because he wasnt like that, he wasn’t the guy that liked to spent time at home;home was for him the prison were all the secrets were hidden to the world. Home was for me a place to be to explore the world within,as my mum always proposed to me with her never-ending beautiful dinners filled with friends and freedom of thought even from my early age.

I found myself a pretty restrictive job. I got into grape harvesting on the hills of a nearest city. I had to wake up quite early and work some weekend and some Mondays, I just couldn’t get wasted.

M accepted it but he continued to go partying following our usual schedule. Both him and C found another ride to carry them and the “stuff”;in exchange the driver was getting freebies. Pretty good deal for the lucky dude of the night.

It wasn’t a problem for me as every time I was left alone I was painting.

Splashing paint on customized tshirts,destroying and reconstruct again was my signature.

I used to spend most of the nights closed in my painting room exploring techniques, faces, feeling, music. Each moment spent within those walls was magic.

My mum was supporting me so much,she loved my art and she was making me feel proud of what I was doing.I was feeling great as for me her support was pretty much all I need it to carry on.

Our ketamine trade was giving me the money to express myself, the money to buy the material to paint. Ketamine was making my  dreams come true.

Later that summer M stepfather had an accident and the bubble blown out when he discover the secret of him being an alcoholic.

Under his disappointment he was forced to started to work full time in the family business and partying became pretty impossible for him too.

Party time was over, I was secretly happy about it.

Our psychedelic exploration instead was  just started.

Wednesday was our common day off and was all dedicated to taking hallucinogen in parks,beach,everywhere in the beauty of the world.

We were discovering our feelings related to the sunset,to the crowded places, to the softness of the water and the perfume of the sea.

The pleasure was given by being together in some hidden places of the world feeling the drug in his pure state without alteration of any sort just being in the world with wide open eyes.Aware consciousness was what I can now relate the experience to.

Obviously for M wasn’t enough,he was feeling unhappy, he was feeling away from his friends.

We started fighting, he was blaming my laziness to be with people, my anti-social behaviour.

I was feeling bad. Useless again. Unlovable for what I really was.

I want to change myself, my attitude towards the world. Although I was feeling empty before,during my previous attempt,perhaps  this time was going to be different.

We started partying again a little.

This time we focus more on the other part, on the after party.

We were quite lucky that the quality of our products was giving us access to most of the exclusive limited after parties held in unknown beautiful lands across Tuscany.

We meet people, and I’ve discovered the dark side of the party, the side were you push yourself further and further with no regards of your being.

I’ve seen people out of control making fun of themself. The monsters of the sunday evening, I was one of them myself.

It was intense. The pressure of wanting more and more of it was unbearable. You were free, no control whatsoever. Forgetting everything, forgetting where you were. OUT OF SPACE for as long as you want it.

Was an incredible feeling of squeezing the world away. Land of happiness, a music hospital you can call it, where everything was swept away for hours and hours from dawn to dusk.Just few people present. Was the family from nowhere.

I loved my nowhere land but however I was still feeling crushed inside me. My soul was shedding day after day,word after word. I still couldn’t feel understood, loved. I was feeling lost,it was like we were all lost, swimming in a coloured,marvellous bunch of soft jelly bubbles.

What to do now?

I need it a ground to grow my roots as I felt I had nothing to share,nothing to live for.

Someone one day whispered the word “London” to our ears. Somehow we were both drawn to the idea of experiencing a foreign country,a big city.

It sounded like hope to me, hope for change, for growth,for freedom.

I just need it to have some peace in my life.

I need it to feel the silence of the day, the space.

That was our time.

With a bunch of nothing and a lot of great expectation we move to london in March 2010.

Was me and him. I was motivated, we were strong together feeling the dream unfolding in front of us.

Blowjob karma part 1

I always though yoga was that kind of activity that was supposed to give you good feeling,acid-like experience,calm and shit like that;but let me tell you is ain’t anything like that.I mean,maybe it is for the first week and a half…then it gets fucking tough.
So if you are there,halfway,feeling pretty good,thinking that a little bit of yoga could be good for your skin,baby let me tell you,your skin might glow but leave the hope behind since you walk that door.Especially if your life isn’t exactly signed by a good Karma.

Okay let me go through my little piece of life,(I will divide this part in two and this I think will be useful to unfold better my yoga journey to anyone).Briefly,I can’t get into to many details,I’m not that kind of person and if you’ll stick with me,if you keep on reading this blog (which I hope you will do),you will quickly understand that I come with no filter. Obviously my mother didn’t know that when that day of may 1988 I gave my hello to the world by screaming of an apparently immense hunger.

I’ve been told that I was the daughter of love.My mother was a dreamers that saw my father as her way to escape from her mother matriarchy,my father saw in her a new mother and the two found each other in a club in Florence where they didn’t really fell in love,she just got pregnant.

They got married before the “damage” appeared clearly on the surface.Was the year 1975 my brother was born and the family started to compose itself limping.

A shop was bought,an apartment.My grandmother started to charge my mother with just enough guilt to let her dispose her first child to the care of my father’s mother,for the greater cause of developing a “career/shop”.

My father was a Pussy addicted kind of man, my mum was a woman of complains.Fucking around,screaming they where just our “everyday bread”.Everything on the surface level was fine,apart from my father leaving for Paris in 1987,having another kid(still unknown for me),getting picked up by my uncle;coming back to my mother and asking for forgiveness begging on his knees.My mother believe it,peace was done,repairing fuck,wanted pregnancy,Me,happiness for a month and then..da-da…pregnancy again. At that point my father was pretty sick of seeing childs coming out of every shit holes he was putting his penis in and tried to convince my mother to have an abortion.My mother for the first time followed her intuition and in front of the clinic turned her car  and drove back home.She kept the baby,my beautiful sister,and she lost another baby,my father.

Was 1991 my grandfather died after a long illness,my father has definitely left,after fucking my mum’s sales assistant into the shop stockroom.

My mum has just turned 36,she had 3 kids,2 shops,1 mortgage and we where living in this tiny little town where everyone knows everything about each other and they all like to appear perfect.

My mum wasn’t any perfect,she was messy,she was moaning, she was a bit of a victim most of the time and she was fucking strong.Rock solid.

Anyway we got trough,and it was a lot.Especially on the side where my father was trying to get everything from my  mother while they where trying to get a divorce.

Somehow we ended up pretty well,I mean mess up, but somehow me, my brother and sister we didn’t get in too much trouble,we always managed to find our way out of awkward situation in the end;we were used to as our mother never hide anything from us.

I grow up with the idea that all the men were pigs and the way to fight them was being  just a bitch. Never believed in love,never experience it. In my house we used to use the warmth of some good angry screams or the burning passion of infinite fights between each other. Fighting was my love.And food too.

I was a fat kid,junk food in my house was forbidden,my mother always want me to be on a diet so I started over-eating hiding myself;ashamed,guilty. I developed an eating disorder at a very young age,seeing a film about a girl suffering of anorexia and then Bulimia,I was 11 when I started to throw up.

Luckily in my little home town school,the kids were merciless and I remember on valentine’s day,sending a little love letter to a guy that I liked and I also remember him writing me back “Sorry,I don’t like you,your measurement are 100-120-150”.

I could never forget that message.

In the meanwhile Giorgio has climbed into our life,a beautiful man who my mum had met by casualty the day that she got dragged out by her colourful friend Claudia. I saw hope in him,he was for me my father.For the first time I started to feel like a normal kid and I stopped to stuck my finger into my throat.I instead committed to a diet.

By the end of the summer I had proudly lost almost 20 kg. I felt beautiful as I never felt before.

I started to develop a beautiful relationship with Giorgio,calling him everyday,talking to him about everything plus.It was special between me and him,we linked,like father and daughter.

Kind of smoothly I became a teenager,a little dark as at 13 years old I gave a blow job to a guy that promise me he would have been my boyfriend after that (I really liked him) while instead he spread the world around and quickly I became my biggest nightmare. Afraid to go out on the street because I would encounter the judgement and the visible disgust of the people of my hometown I went to the (how to translate this..),”classic high-school”(after dying my hair pink,listening to death metal and wearing black head to toe),basically a place where you could learn everything that was ancient (and basically useless ),mind you that when I was in junior high I had a very pleasant teacher that was defining me “too stupid to understand”.I went there to prove something,but I got sick after the first month getting mumps.Stayed at home for months,when I came back I had no idea of what was going on,clearly wasn’t my place. But I did fell in love there and I had sex for the first time.

I had a relationship with this crazy guy,we where having crazy passionate sex in every dump we could find, I was deeply involved in some kind of wild love with him but after about 3 months he dumped me with no explanation.

I was destroyed and I quit school. In the meanwhile an anonymous letter arrived into my home saying horrible things about Giorgio,great confusion,anger,Giorgio left.

I was in the biggest pain of my life.

The suckling pig,the rotten actress and Me -Nowhere 3

Before I could even realize I had started a routine or let’s say: a ritual. Waking up every morning around 5 ish ,waiting for the bus holding a cup of warm barley-oatmilk-molasses “coffee” to enjoy on my way back along with a little breakfast prepared the night before,composed mainly by half banana,a spoon of hemp protein and another spoon of raw cacao powder. I had worked out a way to waste last time to get ready after the first week:going to bed wearing my yoga clothes.Funny?Now that I think back it is,really funny,but at the time it seemed a great way to save some time and also  taking my pj off and put my yoga clothes back on was an unbearable work in that freezing cold! Was around the second/third week that something change. I was just arrived at the shala,was just 20 past 6 and while I was trying to open the door,someone kind of run over and open it for me.Was Hamish,he looked at me kind of annoyed (at least that’s how I perceived) ,and goes like “You?Again?Is too early!”. I felt awful,I felt like he hated me,for my whole practise I felt like an idiot,I felt not good enough,I felt useless.I wanted to cry so badly that I was running trough my few asanas as quick as I could. My mind was wandering: Why was I there?Why this man doesn’t want me here?Am I such a bad person?I feel so stupid! I couldn’t talk,I couldn’t look at him.I hated him,I want it to leave. When I finish my practise I left looking at the ground.I didn’t want to see his eyes,I felt such a big disappointment. On the other side my ego was pumping: Who was he?I am going to show this man who I am,I am going to gain his respect…actually I am going to do what always worked,I will charm him!Luckily I had recently find out that he wasn’t gay,he was actually married.Here we go, let’s get the pattern started,let’s demonstrate to myself that all the man are just disgusting pig and there is just one way to get their attention (in yoga is even easier are there are not much clothes involved). Let’s get to the RING!The fight between Myself and my long time companion,call it Ego,call it  actress but for me she will always be Marlene,(as I used to call myself most of the time during my year in Italy and before meeting Satirka the only person that at the time is been able to show me that side of me). When I started practising Astanga I though Marlene had left,I though I was fine;apart from the feeling of loneliness,emptiness, and that chocking sensation recurring everyday.In the end I was on my feet,by myself, I was proud of being able to do that without crying everyday or being depressed.I was ok…I mean I didn’t have any of the symptoms clearly indicating that my soul was feeling lost (what are those symptoms anyway?). But it took me just a little to discover that actually Marlene wasn’t gone. That day I left the shala crying,beating myself up.I went home, had a shower and then rush into work without eating. I was shaky,I wasn’t in the state to work. I took Sofia in the kitchen,I cried.I told her that I hated the teacher,that I want to leave that place where nobody talk to each other.Her reply was sharp and clear: “I don’t think you should go,You need to stay.This man is actually giving you what you need.Is too easy to leave”.I swallow the bitterness of her words.I tried to say something in reply but instead I didn’t,I looked at her in the eyes,all I could see was her honesty,that deep pure honesty that always stuck me and I had to be honest as well,honest with myself. That’s where all really got started,the digging,the game,the path.