Heart-felt Compassion for Soldiers in WWI: Farina or Brewster Armor Body.

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Ernest Hemingway volounteer in WWI, Northern Italy.

The article I am preparing on coping with PTSD in WWI will be quite emotional. These are body armors built by Ferruccio Farina also known as Brewster Body Armor shields.

 

They were employed in trenches, actually, from one trench to the other,  in order to cut the barbed wire inbetween.

The fact is that in Italy when they used them for the very first time, soldiers, they didn’t really tested them. And there is this story about a volounteering troop who went out from the trenches, and Austrian were just waiting for them to come out, with submachine guns.

They were also adopted by American troops in unhappily welt-famous Verdun, on the French western front.

The atrocity of this war, apart from the mass of dead people, was the dishumanity from talking with your enemy in one moment, exchanging chocolate and cigarettes, and shooting to each other a few hours later.

Today I was having my lunch next horses, in the pony farm near where I work, horses were riding and you would say they were enjoying it and having fun, despite they are not wild and free. I thought to all those soldiers, who couldn’t change their mind, and simply go back to their homes, and If I can put into words, I wish that if there is any karmic reincarnation, that those souls fallen in WWI, could pass by a spirit life as riding horses. Wouldn’t that be great divine justice?

xx

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Jean Seberg and the fatigue.

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It’s very interesting how the interviewer put the accent on the fact that Jean Seberg doesn’t take any psychologist. She is in her 20s and just divorced.

Jean Seberg: “I am more Parisian than Hollywoodian Psychoanalyzed girl.”

Interviewer: “I can tell.”

Except she is found dead suicidal for barbiturates at age of 40 in a street of Paris.

 

Hello, bonjour Vietnam.

Hello, bonjour all Human Kindness 🙂

I have almost finished my book reading of “Tribe”. A few pages left. Thank you Sebastian Junger, and thank your Dad’s, for those inspiring conversations.

Me, too, I made a “new world” talking at the table with my daddy, when he left me express my thoughts, once in a while. He passed me all time heros like artists eg. Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo, to endavours eg. Magellano, De Gama, Cristoforo Colombo. He made me love sport Champions eg. Jim Thorpe, and co-regional Marco Pantani, or wanting to visit Indian American Reservations and Tierra del Fuego with Southern Emisphere sky. We’ve been watching all time western and war movies, sharing Clint Eastwood’s icy look, and wanting to visit Normandy at all costs which I did.

Savonarola, Giordano Bruno and Erasmo da Rotterdam have been our best companion during our meals. Can’t miss Galileo, and Universe laws ( first famous story about the apple or second, actually lol ).

This song reminds me of that vietnam colleague, Nia ( wrong spelling ), who once told me how she ran for one month through Vietnam woods, in the night. Her mom left her at average 9-11, with a rice bowl, before saying goodbye. Oh, they met again, I guess years later. She lives and works today in Parisian region at housekeeping. She is quite a discrete woman, her accent is strong and I hardly understood what she was telling me. But I capted the most.

What shakes me most in my talking with asiats, is that there is no hate, no revenge against americans. This impressed me much. The asiats I know are pretty peaceful people and smiling persons. I wish you, all VA americans, to find that inner peace and forgiveness you deserve. We can change our story.

Like Galileo, we need to look at the Past from another perspective. Could you imagine that Earth was a ball? A blue dot? Could you say that there are more Gods? Which one is the Good one? Who holds the Truth? Governements lies are bullshits, so what? Can you make a choice for your Self? Today, I mean. Who fuc***, ok, who fucking bothers still of what happened 50 years ago? Isn’t time to move forward?

Are you still stuck in a viet wood? You know what? Nia did it. She was an innocent and she is alive, and sewing skirts for californian rangers. So, why couldn’t You? aren’t the guilty, the dirty, the ones who deserve more Self Love and Compassion?

Isn’t this the right time to release Anger out from your lungs? Spit on your grave, if you like, if you think it helps you. Or wouldn’t be nicer if you put a red rose on your cross?

I would. I like red color. Like blood, true love and roots chakra.

YOU were born to be American and Patriot, not me. My life, until now, got less meaning than yours, my sense of call and service is still strong, but look at YOU.

Be proud. Be fair to your Self. I wish you can recover and BECOME the best version of Your Self.

Knoe that, if you can’t forgive Your Self, nobody will, in your place.

Luv xx

 

Tell me all about this name, that is difficult to say.
It was given me the day I was born.

Want to know about the stories of the empire of old.
My eyes say more of me than what you dare to say.

All I know of you is all the sights of war.
A film by Coppola, the helicopter’s roar.

One day I’ll touch your soil.
One day I’ll finally know your soul.
One day I’ll come to you.
To say hello… Vietnam.

Tell me all about my colour, my hair and my little feet
That have carried me every mile of the way.

Want to see your house, your streets. Show me all I do not know.
Wooden sampans, floatings markets, light of gold.

All I know of you is the sights of war.
A film by Coppola, the helicopter’s roar.

One day I’ll touch your soil.
One day I’ll finally know your soul.
One day I’ll come to you.
To say hello… Vietnam.

And Buddha’s made of stone watch over me.
My dreams they lead me through the fields of rice.
In prayer, in the light…I see my kin.
I touch my tree, my roots, my begin…

One day I’ll touch your soil.
One day I’ll finally know your soul.
One day I’ll come to you.
To say hello… Vietnam.

One day I’ll walk your soil
One day I’ll finally know my soul
One day I’ll come to you.
To say hello…Vietnam
To say hello…Vietnam
To say xin chao…Vietnam.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Good Morning you all,

in my last days off work, I ‘ve decided to wake up, cosy and lazy, totally no hurry, and take a breakfast in bed.  Weather is still cold and snowy out there. Not only in France, but also in Italy, Wales and Canada. Wherever I have peers and friends, it’s white …

Don’t you find snow zen like?  It compells people to go slower, be careful on the way you march in, the shoes you choose, the way you drive. Being aware of what usually you are not taking the time to. Like breathing. Can you just take a moment to deeply breath the fresh air and just stare all around? And feel grateful to own a cosy apart where to cocoon in weekend days? or in the evening before sleeping?

When you feel alone, think of whom are outside, struggling with tough conditions and go and take a warm shower. It is divine.

I’ll suggest a good dessert or smooth, spicy hot wine, if it stays reasonable, and you are ok with your body, and watch one of these long lasting cult movies, that you will certainly hire with a license in a rental shop, …  or listen to this fab cello duo from Croatia, which I find absolutely CRAZY and AMAZING. You won’t think to classical music the same than before.

Enjoy your day.

Suicidal ? Why hurry up.

Wtumblr_ndd3fxXukW1shqmvso1_500hen I read about PTSD before going through my personal journey, I thought that PTSD were reserved only to war veterans or raped, child abused victims. God bless them all. Now, I can observe, « abuse », in a lifetime, can come in different ways, and shades of grey. It all depends on your level of sensibility. What is hurting me can be easily ignored by others. And, what’s worse, others won’t be able to understand your degreee of suffering, if they are not empath at all. I finally accept this. Since I’ve embraced the real fact that I am an empath and higher sensitive, in the noblest meaning. Also, I completely forgive these others. They miss awareness, and sometimes they simply don’t care. This is their misery. Not mine.

In my early twenties, I developed eating disorders and self harm disease. Depression was my company, since very young, it was more than weeping cos I wasn’t happy, and I couldn’t efford a Levi’s, financially, or couldn’t fit in. At 8 I discovered how to throw up food after eating, and it seemed to me like I got a magical power, eating junk food without putting weight on my belly. That worry didn’t last until I grew up older. I knew I wasn’t a typical cutie girl, and that was fine, that pushed me to look inside and focus on my personality. I really thought that my karmic debt was so heavy that I didn’t deserve to be the goodlooking girl which makes all men turn their head. And had to gain my beautiful body in one of next lives through hard work. Actually, not only I had a negative body image perception, but all my thoughts were tuned on negative vibes. Emotionally, I was a crap. Disfunctional family environement, of course, didn’t help and, at a certain moment, I just wanted to disappear. But slowly. A way to ask for attention and care.

Today I can recognise that I was on a strong love demand, and I can’t blame my peers not to understand how to manage my bipolar behaviour. Joyful, gay and cheerful, outside my armour, and damn upset and hating my self deeply inside. Self love is my last, wonderful achievement at age of 43.

Suicidal thoughts passed by in my twenties, like dark clouds on an empty sky. When anorexic, I have been diagnosed schizophrenic, because food&alchool abuse made me loose balance and clear mind. My mum had to watch me all the time or I could do something very harmful. Until I was hospitalized. Of course, today I see that it wasn’t my body, but my soul, the one who needed to be taken care of. But it took me 20 years to realize it, once for all.

At that time, the only way to overcome my lack of balance, by advice of my neurologist, was doing a psychodrug therapy. Recovering from drugs takes a long time and memory loss. A part of your soul flies away. Your personality, if you could build up some, at twenty, is no longer the same. Simply, you loose a big part of your Self. But in 90s there was not such a knowledge about ED like today. In a way, I feel lucky. First choice was a Center for Mental Health, and I can tell you that two of my neighbours passed by it and today they are still not well. Drugs addicted. Nobody takes care of them.

In my case, after all, time brings justice.

Being suicidal is natural when struggling is too much to bare, it makes sense to me, except that today I am a believer. Life is a game, a challenge. Indian call it « Lila ». Because I believe in karma, and reincarnation, I read once that, when you suicide, your soul is trapped between worlds. I can’t even think of being sticked in a hell of pain. This is enough for me to keep it up. But before I go on with my storytelling, I want you to know that choosing life requires courage and a bunch of energy.

So if you need more, ask for help to professionals. Not your neighbour, not your best friend or family member. We are nothing without others. Choose carefully.