Sylvia's writing to freedom

Washed away memories 30/10/2011

Thursday the plumber finally came over, after 4 months of begging, to check our antique boiler. This time it had to be checked in time, otherwise the boiler wouldn’t be certified anymore. Our landlord started in June to ask for this simple check up and as it goes in Italy they do not set a date, they simply squeeze you somewhere in their busy program. Within our small village, with approximately 3000 inhabitants, we’ve got 2 plumber family businesses. There isn’t enough work within the village to keep all sons and nephews working, so they look for assignments within new projects in the bigger cities. This means practically for us, in the village, that our requests are mostly not profitable for our plumbers. Which has as a consequence that we’ve got to wait very long for simple proceedings.

We considered asking our landlord to switch plumber and hire a boiler check business, those companies do  nothing else then certifying and checking and repairing boilers. Though when we carefully suggested changing plumbers  our landlord started already resisting. His perspective was that he had been asking them, so they had to do the checking. Even though he’s got a history with our local plumber, it still should be a possibility to switch plumbers, if that’s more practical or needed. If the checking hadn’t been done in time we were also risking a fine and it wasn’t yet clear or spoken out loud by our landlord who had to pay the fine. It was clear that we had to pay for the check up, at least a €100,-, it was clear that the repairs were going to be paid by the landlord. Lucky enough for us the plumber was still in time, yet 4 months to late, so nobody had to pay a fine.

One of the plumber sons came over and checked the boiler, all was fine and we got the certificate. He couldn’t say what the costs were going to be, he asked us to ask his aunt in the office about the price. When he left the cellar, he told my partner P. that all was fine, we didn’t went back into the cellar to check. We went back into the cellar the next morning to switch on the boiler for hot water. Only then P. found a disaster. The plumber had used a power point just behind our 2000 liter water reserve tank and with the unplugging of the plug he must have moved the tubes that were hanging in the tank in order to water the garden. He probably didn’t notice the tube getting loose and he probably didn’t notice the water that must have flushed out of the tube immediately. So for about 13 hours the tank had the ability to empty the major part of the 2000 liter of rain water in our cellar.

In this cellar we have the storage of all the stuff that we did move along with us for so many removals, but they hadn’t  been given a place within the current house. There were approximately 40 filled cardboard boxes, mattresses, folded cardboard boxes, literally all stuff that hadn’t yet been on the list of trowing away and hadn’t been considered useful to have in the house. The cellar looked like a natural disaster, like a water flooding had taken place. The tower of boxes had collapsed, due to the first layer of boxes that absorbed so much water that they had collapsed. Looking at this disaster there was one word written all over it: WORK. We were in for a lot of work.

P. had to work outside the home-office, so that left me in charge of the disaster. I opened the cellar and did put all my power to the task to get these really heavy boxes outside. Heavy because most were containing books, linen, photo-books and  photo’s. While lifting them the water was running out of the corners of the boxes. All that was wet was now placed outside where the humidity was quite high on this autumn morning. Little floods were coming from the boxes and it didn’t look very promising, when considering the disaster inside the boxes. I decided to first let all the water drip out of the boxes and at a later stage opening the boxes and checking the content. I mopped all the water from the floor and left the door and window open for the wind to blow things a bit dry, I didn’t have the whole morning to dedicate to this task.

At the end of the afternoon P. and I were both free to dedicate ourselves to the water disaster again. P. took some more stuff out that had been too heavy for me to handle alone. The floor was almost dry and P. had gone to the waste platform to seek for pallets. This way we could place the boxes back again only now just below the floor to avoid a second distaster. We started repacking the wet boxes into almost dry boxes. We had to decide what to keep and what to trow away. Old school books from the kids we decided to trow away, old maps of various countries and cities we once went to we threw away, a lot of photo’s that weren’t able to be saved we threw away. I came across all my elementary school notebooks and handcraft assignments. Normally I got quite exited and nostalgic with these things, now I saw stuff made by a child and most of it didn’t had a direct memory other then stories of my mom hanging on to it. It was horribly wet and I decided to trow it away, to my surprise it wasn’t a heavy moment to go through. I simply breathed and remained here and asked myself the question if I would remain when these touchable memories were no longer in my possession? The question I asked myself looked even unreal, how could these possessions change who I am?

That evening my daughter A. searched through the photo’s that had survived the disaster. She was asking me various questions about the pictures that were new to her. Me and one of my old boyfriends, me being baptised, holidays of me and holidays of P. from the time we weren’t yet together. Surprisingly I wasn’t sucked into all these memories and I didn’t experience a roller-coaster of emotions and feelings. I used to get a real energy boost from going through old pictures and memories and as I see it now I was desperately confirming myself that I was still alive through pictures instead of being here and enjoying life in every breath.

This whole water disaster was a time loop when I look back at it. When almost 3 years ago we moved into this house we already had the idea of putting pallets on the ground to keep the boxes dry in case of a disaster. It never came further then a plan and now we were confronted with a missed chance. We lacked responsibility towards our and our kids their belongings and were faced with the consequences. The good side that came forth out of all this is the fact that we cleared our passed by letting go of pictures/ballast. We, I, do not survive by holding on to pictures of the past. Memories can serve, to point out what not to repeat again, simply because it didn’t work and it wasn’t in the best interest of all.



Do you want to deal with your past in an effective way, visit


Conflict Management 22/10/2011

Dealing with conflicts is still a point that brings me anxiety, I need to actively take myself back to my breathing and stabilize myself. Within these moments I desire for harmony to come and rescue me from the bullies that pull my pigtails. Wanting to crawl back into the deep caves of ignorance that I’m now able to define as “the mind”. So I’m asking myself now why am I not accepting the fact that I can be stable, stable to face conflict and to see it for what it is?


When people are quite reactive in their comments and totally disagreeing with me, I feel energy movement within my chest and my solar plexus. Directly followed with a reaction of wanting to escape this state of being. I feel as if I’m a naughty girl that has been doing things terribly wrong. This experience then will set in and used by me as an example or blue print for other situations. Even my warning tool to decide if certain people will give me trouble, or better said if these people will bring me into trouble. Into trouble as a child that did something against the will of it’s parents. This way of perceiving or experiencing life is quite limiting and giving me  lot of energetic movement by my own allowance.


So why do I freak out when the tonality of others communicating with me, is indicating me that they are trouble and I want to escape the situation? Energy movement in the solar plexus indicates fear and energy movement in the chest area indicates family related issues. If I add those two together the bluntly question to ask myself is: where exists fear within my family structure?


Where derives this desire to be a good girl from? This question brings me back to a point that I’ve worked through within a mind construct months ago. The point of being educationally corrected by my parents for not being a good girl, for not agreeing with them. This correction was done by holding my head under the cold water tap. Within this experience believed that I was going to die. For many years I had hydrophobia and still when being in water and others are pulling or pressing me under water, I totally freak as if they attempt to kill me. Taking a shower and washing my long hair as a child was not a fun experience, it was reliving my own believed dead. After my parents had done this educational correction for several times I surrendered. I never really spoke up, not even as a teenager, to my parents and they never corrected me physically again afterwards. So they thought they had done a great parental job, while in the meanwhile a nasty seed was planted within my system that I allowed and accepted to be real.


Even till today I do not want to make my parents angry, which I haven’t really experienced, since I was always such a good girl. Throughout my life I have done my best to be a good person, I defined myself as a good person. Every time when I see the evil within me that I also consist of I feel this energy movement, which makes me almost feel sick. The friction between the picture I want to be and present to my outer world and my real me that within polarity cannot only be good.


So whenever there is a conflict, disagreement or a tonality that I perceive as hostile, I’ll go into anxiety. Fearing the fact that I’ll not be a good girl. Fearing the fact that I’ll not be seen as a good person and therefore I’m doing something wrong. Which in turn leads to an anxiety that has the fear of death as basic emotion in it. And that feels like a big fuck up, paralyzing and limiting myself to an extend that I almost have to grasp for air.


Although all of this still exist within me today, I’m able through the tools of the Desteni I Process, to calm myself down. Focussing on my breathing while seeing what is here. Stabilize myself within searching for the common sense within all of it. No longer allowing and accepting myself to escape within my mind, but to face it and see that I’ll still will live when there is disagreement. Within stabilizing myself and therefore taking away all the emotional noise, I can interact in a stabile way, I am worthy of life and therefore I may speak up in the best interest of all. I may live, I may be alive.


Once you start your I Process you will be able to see the fears/emotions/feelings that are moving you, as what they are, and with the tools provided you are able to correct yourself within the physical. To learn from your past, but not dwell in your past. To learn and recreate your future and no longer live in fear.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to live in fear whenever I’m finding myself within a by myself defined conflict situations.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to experience physical anxiety when confronted with conflict or disagreement.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to fear not being a good girl.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to project a past memory/experience on my current life.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to blame others for being hostile while disagreeing or being in conflict, instead of seeing that I’m hostile towards myself by letting these emotions rule over my life.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to limit myself through the fear of conflict.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to define myself as a good person.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to fear not to be seen as a good person and being rejected.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to to fear the consequences when not being a good person.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to fear death when I consider myself as a bad person and experience the consequences of it.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to judge myself for going into anxiety when confronted with conflict.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to prefer harmony over conflict, instead of seeing that it’s the other end of the polarity and therefore will not free me from this energetic limitations.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to participate within the polarity of conflict and harmony.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to have conflict within myself while searching for harmony out side myself to compensate.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to judge others for being trouble and disturbing my world/bubble.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to separate myself from reality when confronted with conflict or disagreement.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to prefer the mind when confronted with conflict or disagreement over the physical reality.


I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to feel the desire to separate myself from reality when confronted with conflict or disagreement.


Whenever I see myself going into the pattern of anxiety. I stop and breathe. Within this I realize that anxiety will give me fear and not a clear view on what I am dealing with. Participating within this pattern will only bring me consequences, so I stop, I breathe and slow myself down to work with what is here within self-direction.


Whenever I see myself going into the pattern of desiring to separate myself from reality. I stop and breathe. Within this I realize that separation will not allow me to act within my physical reality and direct myself in the best interest of all. Participating within this pattern will only bring me consequences, so I stop, I breathe and slow myself down to work with what is here within self-direction.


A conflict as a CON – DELICT to Self




See the Destonian Wiki on Wikipedia on subjects within my blogs that might not yet be clear to you, subjects like Equal Money, Equality for All. See also the information of the desteni I process at that explains you how to stabilize yourself within this current world.


Hair 02/10/2011

Approximately 1,5 year ago I shaved my head to stand for world equality and to give my visible vote for an Equal Money System. I faced quite some fears and it took me almost 3 months to get ready and shave. Within those three months I looked at the fears I had and did Self-Forgiveness on them, but only within my physical reality I could face my own effectiveness within my application of SF and had to correct myself further within the physical. Since I’m living as a foreigner in a small Catholic village in central Italy my villagers were not really enthusiastic to say the least when I shaved my head. A woman here in rural Italy is one with long dark hair, high heels, cleavage and most preferred a short skirt. Not that I fitted in this description before I shaved my head, but at least I had hair and they could still refer to me as a woman. The day I shaved the speculations started and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people made some sort of a bet on it. I had just gone through an event of bullying at school with my daughter A. which was in essence rasism and people started to ask if I had too much grief about this event that I shaved my head. A nice one and really dramatic, I hadn’t thought of that one as a reason for shaving ones head. Then the rumour started that I was suffering from cancer and was refusing to wear a wig. Though the final conclusion was that I had lost it for most of the population and the few that really went in conversation with me admired me, but couldn’t see any salvation of our current world within the words I spoke. Lots and lots of people got neck pains, a national Italian disease, due to looking after me when I was passing by. The people that I could look in the face had always a look of intense disgust. I made flyers to explain myself, but basically I was stuck in a polarity between admiration and disgust of my villagers and I decided not to go along with that and therefore kept my head neatly shaved for 1,5 year.

A bald head was the first way of approaching my head and me in a way that it didn’t cause friction within me.The moment I shaved of my hair and I looked in the mirror I saw ME as I understand ME within my current process. No hair anymore gave me the opportunity to look beyond my personalities, who were still there, but couldn’t be connected to my hair anymore. With the hair also my clothes changed into more comfortable clothes. I even went for a walk today with a combination of a flower skirt and a flower t-shirt that totally didn’t match in colour and pattern. There were times that I would have bothered about such a thing and would feel insecure. For a moment I hesitated if it was the “right” thing to do. I concluded that it was bullshit to not go for a walk around the block in 2 garments that are really comfortable to wear and tested it out in my reality. I’m still alive and after the first meters I forgot all about my non stylish outfit. So the shaving is a statement , but it also helped me through a lot of issues within my physical reality. Therefore I had no intensions to let it grow again.

Till the moment that my sewing business was not really running well. My neighbor from across the street, who does the same work as I, said after I asked her how business was going, it’s a bad period for us all. Though here in Italy nobody is very direct in his/hers answers so it could mean that she had still enough work and didn’t want to hurt me and came up with this answer or she really had less clients. I saw how people were avoiding me in the village and the clients I still have do really not care about me having hair or no hair. So I decided to investigate this point within my physical reality and let my hair grow till a point that I felt comfortable with.

The first day that I went to my grocery shop with an almost crew cut, the lady of the shop suddenly started talking to me and making friendly faces. I  was surprised, I always perceived this lady as a grumpy woman that hardly looked me in the eyes. Then a friend of mine asked in this special way if she was right about me letting my hair grow, as if she asked me if I was pregnant, the same tonality was in her voice. It was as if suddenly I was again part of the zombies, my hair made me again part of the club of zombies. I knew that we humanity are hypocrites, but this was a firm confirmation.

I let my hair grow till it was about 1,5 centimeter long. I noticed that on top of my head the hair was growing in the air like little antennes and the hair on my sides and on my occiput was growing flat against my head. This gave my head this oval shape. I suddenly didn’t see ME anymore and a not deliberately hairstyle developed. I saw resistance within me and points that I hadn’t taken on yet about me having hair and being defined by my hair style. I no longer could rinse my hair without being grassy and  also resisted using shampoo again. So I had to make a plan about what I wanted to do with my hair and head. I decided to let it grow just a few millimeter which gives this idea of hair on my head, but it’s easy to manage without soap and makes people more at ease while being in my presence. It’s a decision I made in the moment and will be valid as long as I can be self-honest within it.

Perceiving myself as a person with hair again, I walked with my daughter A. in one of the nearby towns, wearing a skirt and t-shirt with cleavage. To me I was, without desiring it, dressed in an Italian adapted way. Till the moment that A. said to me, come on mom cross the street I’m already at the shop what is taking you so long? What took me so long was this retired man that started to walk towards me, over a distance of 500 meter, like a magnet. He was staring at me and couldn’t get his face in another direction and I had to step backwards to not been over-walked. I heard him mumble, a lady without hair? So I  hurried across the street and while I looked behind me to see how the man was doing, I saw that he almost did a 180 degrees owl turn to look after me. I was astonished, he said a lady without hair, so I was still considered as having no hair? We found out that we had gone to the wrong shop and had to cross the square where the retired man with his pels was hanging around in front of the medieval town hall. I heard them gossip and almost gasping for air while seeing a lady with hair that didn’t count as having hair.  It was all very entertaining to me and A. as these men revealed in one breath a long and rich tradition of how women should be.

I’m still one vote for an Equal Money System and world equality, nothing changed except I’m more with 2 feet on the ground again and traded guessing about how people would perceive me, with research within my physical reality. As my life and my process will develop so will my view on hair develop. For now the best approach, and still be able to reach out to most people, is to have a crew cut. And not to place myself outside the society I live in, due to inflexible opinions. I’m not going to fight the system, I’m going to work with the system and use the system to bring change. A change that we all know is necessary, but we’re too afraid that change never will happen. Investigate your reality and test your opinions and believes, you might be surprised about what you find.