WRITTEN BOOKS
About this Book
The transformative experience of a group of eight women who embarked on a journey of introspection and discovery through India. Through six main narrative voices, the text details a journey that transcends geography to become an exploration of "sacred chaos," spirituality, and reconnection with the inner self.
Featured Quotes
"India didn't give me certainties. It stripped away layers, showed me that my fears were borrowed, that control is an illusion."
"To be fully alive... is to be constantly expelled from the nest. To live fully is to always be in no man's land."
"India has no veils, it hides nothing, it's there for you, take it or leave it."
About this Book
Listening, affection, empathy, free association, transference, ambivalence, reflection, and self-knowledge are the words that surround this story.
The mystery that we discover in each session, those of us who dare to embark on our inner journey.
I will find milestones that guide the way: freedom, identity, grief, loneliness, self-care, connections, family ties, and the healing power of words.
I discovered that two truths can coexist: love and anger, love and letting go, sadness and joy, emptiness and fulfillment, order and chaos, laughter and tears, words and silence.
About this Book
The main character that runs through this book: our father, Oscar.
A peculiar, unique person, who opened our doors to nature. Our life in the river, the countryside and the sea.
Go through our family history. It reveals in images and words our shared childhood and adolescence. Our marks and next steps in adult life for each of us, your children.
This book is dedicated to my parents, Oscar and Lydia, and my siblings, Manu, Mela, Mari and Sebas. I am grateful that we are family and that we have built our history together.
-Paula Ron
About this Book
Trencadís de mujeres touches on issues concerning women between the ages of 35 and 48 regarding their relationship with their body, sexuality, motherhood, partner, professional fulfillment, family and gender violence. These different themes are approached from the experiences of these women who, in a captivating and intimate way, show the path that the female gender has traveled through since the early 90s.
Trencadís de mujeres was created during a seven-day trip to some old mountains in the south of the Buenos Aires province. The writing, made in the style of a road movie, is shown through conversations, interior monologues, experiences, as well as data and contributions from professionals related to the subject. The end of the trip occurred when the pandemic became official, which made the authors wonder whether or not to continue with the project.
Trencadís de mujeres aims to be a contribution to understanding a world that changes too quickly.
About this Book
La vida es bella brings together my adventures from around the world and my experiences with other cultures. This book is a part of my soul. It is also a journey to my interior, my search. Where do I come from, where am I going, the encounter with my roots, with my essence, with my truth. This book is a thank you to life, my teacher on this journey, and my best companions: my parents, Oscar and Lydia, my brothers, Manuel, Melania, Mariana, and Sebastián, Diego, the father of my daughters, María Eugenia (Euge) and María Constanza (Co); A journey in which I learned that life is beautiful and worth living.
Life hurts sometimes, sometimes it tires, sometimes it aches; it is not perfect, it is not consistent, it is not easy, it is not infinite, but in spite of everything,
life is beautiful - la vida es bella.
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WRITINGS
Valencia, Spain July 2024
But what I tell you was before…
When we wanted a life for the world and we were open to the new, to the unknown.
When our shared curiosity and our desire to discover I take us to travel to new cultures…territories, languages, people, music, traditions.
Experiences that transformed us and at the same time fragmented our beliefs. We lost our identity - loyalty to our culture, our roots, but we gained other things.
Our tree of life built for 25 years has fruits from other places. And these fruits have: names, words, emotions, sensations.
And as if we were gardeners of this life throughout the world, we chose to give ourselves with the best fruits of that garden.
From Berlin. Your diversity. Your resilience. the fall of the wall. The marks of the cold war. Austerity and order.
From Madrid. Its terraces. Its endless days of sunshine. Enjoy life in the little things. The good heart of your people walking in your stupidity. Its marks of the civil war and the years of Franco.
From Buenos Aires. Your buildings. Your culture. Su critical thinking. The creativity of our people to reinvent themselves and rise up from government is so difficult, all the time.
From Singapore, its effectiveness, its progress, will be close to the spirituality of the East. Y A leader who directed (oppressed?) them for 50 years.
From Brazil. The smile and joy of your people. Your positivity. Your beaches. Your music. A poor and illiterate village that prefers to dance and sleep, without knowing how to change what it is suffering.
But this is what I tell you, what I was writing to you before…
Now, you have decided to plant another tree. A type of tree that is nourished by other things, by fear, by insecurity, by vanity and by whim. Don't listen to the birds, the sounds of the wind, don't let yourself get wet in the rain.
You have not known that our tree of life around the world exists because of its biodiversity and thanks to this it is nourished, grows, from the shade, from the oxygen, from the possibility of rest and rest.
But what I write to you was before…
Now we're not taking care of the same tree, I'm still choosing the tree we dream about.
Maybe you are a tree today, if someone else is growing on the bottom of a house, or on the terrace of an apartment.
It's just that my heart is inside a forest, together with others, letting the wind caress it, receiving the rainwater and listening to the birds' song, while the sun's rays fall every morning between its branches.
São Paulo, October 23, 2024
The most painful of deaths is my own living death.
What if I dare to change what I know and move towards the new?
Who am I without everything that is—was—known until now? Without my places, my homes, my belongings, my friends, siblings, family?
I still don't know, and I wonder, what dies?
Those Christmas tables full of people (chosen and unchosen family);
Those birthdays celebrated with friends from all stages of my life (friends-siblings, friends-acquaintances, new friends);
Those familiar streets where I could walk and get lost without fear;
Those laughs, hugs, complicity, and fights with my siblings;
Those coffees shared with coworkers, classmates, childhood friends.
Those New Year's Eve dinner tables that Mom decorated so beautifully while Dad roasted the suckling pig, and we sat together for hours talking, eating, and drinking red wine;
Those trips around the world with Diego and the girls. So many landscapes: the rice paddies of Bali, the mountains of Sapa, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, the sunsets in Uruguay.
Those school gatherings, learning new languages, educational systems, the passion of their teachers, my daughters' transformation as they learned new things, the end-of-year celebrations, Coni dressed as the Virgin Mary at her school in Madrid, Euge dressed as a Lady of the Old World at her school in Buenos Aires, the elementary and high school graduations, their best friends, soul sisters, found in the cities where we lived;
Those road trips from Brazil to Uruguay in recent summers; The road, the laughter, the girls' bored faces because of the long trip, Diego teaching Claudemir some songs, reading him "interesting facts" about the cities we passed along the way. Arriving at my father's house. The hugs.
Those family getaways to the beaches of the São Paulo coast, packing bags with a couple of bikinis, towels, and flip-flops, and heading to Riviera de São Lorenzo, Iara's little house.
Those dinners with Diego, as a family, where we watched the girls grow up together, where there was dialogue, arguments, love, and differences.
And then I ask myself:
Where will I build my new home?
What will those new family trips be like?
Who will wake up next to me every morning?
What will Christmas and New Year's be like without Dad, without Mom, without my siblings?
They tell me:
“All of that doesn’t die, it transforms, give it time.” But I feel that phrase isn’t mine yet. I still grieve the pain of loss, of what I lived through. Of that life that is no longer my life.
I know that:
I did things I didn’t want to do because I didn’t know how to say no.
I did things I wanted to do and that I regret.
I did things I wanted to do and that I’m proud of.
Of the new, I know very little:
I know that I feel alive when I’m touched by human experience; when I write in the stillness of the morning, when I meditate, when I practice Reiki, when I give space to my creativity and from there my new projects are born, when I allow myself to feel, when I’m moved by a look, a smile, a hug, a “how are you?”, an “I love you”, an “I miss you”… the small acts.
I know that I chose to live in different cities around the world many years ago.
I know I have an enormous curiosity for the new, the unknown.
I know I inspire others to follow their own path.
I know I love being touched by difference and letting that newness expand me.
I know I am a perpetual learner.
I know my versatility, my power of transformation.
I know I immensely respect the wisdom of my elders.
I know I adore working in community, in search of a better world.
I know I need to hear new voices, new thoughts.
I know I inhabit the sacred territory of silence.
And I also know that death does not exist,
because the soul lives forever,
and because I came here, to this world, to offer my heart.
Who said all is lost? I come to offer my heart
So much blood the river carried away
I come to offer my heart
It won't be so easy, I know what happens
It won't be as simple as I thought
Like opening my chest and taking out my soul
A stab wound of love
Moon of the poor, always open
I come to offer my heart
Like an unalterable document
I come to offer my heart
And I will join the ends of the same ribbon
And I will leave peacefully, I will leave slowly
And I will give you everything and you will give me something
Something that will ease my pain a little more
When there is no one near or far
I come to offer my heart
When the satellites can't reach
I come to offer my heart
And I speak of countries and of hopes
I speak for life, I speak for nothingness
I speak of changing this, our home
Of changing it, just for the sake of change
Who said that everything is lost? I come to offer my heart
Fito Paez - Giros