{"id":225,"date":"2024-04-08T12:00:43","date_gmt":"2024-04-08T10:00:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.contromano.blog\/?p=225"},"modified":"2024-07-17T10:32:04","modified_gmt":"2024-07-17T08:32:04","slug":"day-six","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.contromano.blog\/en\/2024\/04\/08\/day-six\/","title":{"rendered":"Day Six","raw":"Day Six"},"content":{"rendered":"<h3>Monday is blue<\/h3>\n<p>A diary is akin to a treasure chest, preserving thoughts, impressions, and events from the past. It captures instants in their raw immediacy, unfiltered, much like a photograph. And unfiltered means being honest and open in their retelling. So within this chest lie not just the gleaming jewels of enthusiasm, but also the rough pebbles of disappointment. And today is such a day, a day of lows. Perhaps it&#8217;s due to being forced to do nothing, the inability to steer events; nevertheless, I should have anticipated the arrival of this wave of despondency.<\/p>\n<p>Today, all I&#8217;m permitted to do is prepare, to improve my shape. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Every day pushing oneself further than what the body deems possible. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Set after set, attempting to overcome the resistance of an elastic band, even if I\u2019m barely able to stand. And the impulse to surrender is immediate, to succumb to the fear of failure. Who\u2019s making you do this, Marco? The siren whispers persuasively in your ear, tempting you to let go, to relinquish your shield like Archilochus, and let events unfold as they may. Thighs, glutes, biceps. And you walk in the park beneath your home, occasionally extending your strolls by five minutes, attempting to ignore the other tempting siren, soft and seductive, inviting you to rest on a bench and bask in the early rays of spring. But you&#8217;re neither Odysseus nor the fearless warrior who defiantly awaits the charge of the opposing phalanx.<\/p>\n<p>So you sit. You yield. Then you recall another poet, Tyrtaeus, a Spartan from the 7th century BC, who extolled the indomitable hoplites of Sparta: &#8216;Let each one stand firmly planted on the ground, biting his lips with his teeth, concealing his thighs, shins, chest, and shoulders behind the vast expanse of a shield.&#8217; And you realise that sometimes all one must do is endure, grit one&#8217;s teeth, and withstand. Embrace and acknowledge fear, rather than simply shunning it. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Endure. But not today. Today is a day of lows. It&#8217;s acceptable; one must embrace oneself, flaws and all. And besides, in just a few days, it will be Friday once more\u2026<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"The Cure - Friday I&#039;m In Love\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/mGgMZpGYiy8?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p><small>Friday, I\u2019m in love (The Cure), 1992<\/small><\/p>\n","protected":false,"raw":"<h3>Monday is blue<\/h3>\r\n\r\nA diary is akin to a treasure chest, preserving thoughts, impressions, and events from the past. It captures instants in their raw immediacy, unfiltered, much like a photograph. And unfiltered means being honest and open in their retelling. So within this chest lie not just the gleaming jewels of enthusiasm, but also the rough pebbles of disappointment. And today is such a day, a day of lows. Perhaps it's due to being forced to do nothing, the inability to steer events; nevertheless, I should have anticipated the arrival of this wave of despondency.\r\n\r\nToday, all I'm permitted to do is prepare, to improve my shape. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Every day pushing oneself further than what the body deems possible. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Set after set, attempting to overcome the resistance of an elastic band, even if I\u2019m barely able to stand. And the impulse to surrender is immediate, to succumb to the fear of failure. Who\u2019s making you do this, Marco? The siren whispers persuasively in your ear, tempting you to let go, to relinquish your shield like Archilochus, and let events unfold as they may. Thighs, glutes, biceps. And you walk in the park beneath your home, occasionally extending your strolls by five minutes, attempting to ignore the other tempting siren, soft and seductive, inviting you to rest on a bench and bask in the early rays of spring. But you're neither Odysseus nor the fearless warrior who defiantly awaits the charge of the opposing phalanx.\r\n\r\nSo you sit. You yield. Then you recall another poet, Tyrtaeus, a Spartan from the 7th century BC, who extolled the indomitable hoplites of Sparta: 'Let each one stand firmly planted on the ground, biting his lips with his teeth, concealing his thighs, shins, chest, and shoulders behind the vast expanse of a shield.' And you realise that sometimes all one must do is endure, grit one's teeth, and withstand. Embrace and acknowledge fear, rather than simply shunning it. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Endure. But not today. Today is a day of lows. It's acceptable; one must embrace oneself, flaws and all. And besides, in just a few days, it will be Friday once more\u2026\r\n\r\n&nbsp;\r\n\r\nhttps:\/\/youtu.be\/mGgMZpGYiy8?si=sKVXvV5o7Lw9UyaQ\r\n\r\n<small>Friday, I\u2019m in love (The Cure), 1992<\/small>"},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Monday, April 8th 2024<br \/>\nMonday is blue<\/p>\n","protected":false,"raw":"Monday, April 8th 2024\r\nMonday is blue"},"author":1,"featured_media":230,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_it_post_content":"<h3>Monday is blue<\/h3>\r\n\r\nUn diario \u00e8 come uno scrigno. Conserva a distanza di tempo pensieri, impressioni e avvenimenti di un dato momento. Istanti colti nell\u2019immediatezza senza filtri, come con una macchina fotografica. E senza filtri significa anche essere onesto nel raccontarli. Cos\u00ec in questo scrigno non ci saranno solo i gioielli sfolgoranti dell\u2019entusiasmo, ma anche i ciottoli sgraziati delle delusioni. E oggi \u00e8 un giorno cos\u00ec, un giorno no. Forse dipende dalla forzata inattivit\u00e0 e quindi dall\u2019impossibilit\u00e0 di governare gli eventi, ma dovevo aspettarmelo che sarebbe arrivato il momento dello scoramento.\r\n\r\nLa sola cosa che oggi mi \u00e8 permesso fare \u00e8 prepararmi, recuperare la forma fisica. Cosce, glutei, bicipiti. Ogni giorno spingersi pi\u00f9 in l\u00e0 di quello che il tuo corpo ti consente. Cosce, glutei, bicipiti. Serie dopo serie, cercando di vincere la resistenza di un elastico anche se non ti reggi in piedi. E vorresti mollare subito, cedere alla paura di non riuscire. Ma chi te lo fa fare Marco? La sirena ti sussurra suadente all\u2019orecchio che \u00e8 cos\u00ec facile lasciarsi andare, cos\u00ec dolce gettare lontano lo scudo come Archiloco e lasciare che le cose vadano per conto loro. Cosce, glutei, bicipiti. E camminate nel parco sotto casa con i tempi che allunghi di cinque minuti ogni tanto cercando di ignorare quell\u2019altra sirena che molle e lasciva ti invita a fermarti su una panchina a riposare e goderti quei primi raggi di sole che annunciano la primavera. Ma tu non sei Ulisse e nemmeno quel guerriero di prima linea che sprezzante sputa in terra aspettando l\u2019assalto della falange avversaria. \r\n\r\nCos\u00ec siedi. Cedi. Poi ti ricordi di un altro poeta, Tirteo, uno spartano del VII secolo a. C. che cantava gli irriducibili opliti di Sparta: \u201cResista ognuno ben piantato sulle gambe al suolo, mordendosi le labbra con i denti, nascondendo le cosce, gli stinchi, il petto e gli omeri entro la pancia d'uno scudo immenso\u201d. E capisci che a volte tutto quello che devi fare \u00e8 resistere, stringere i denti e resistere. Accogliere e riconoscere la paura, non semplicemente scacciarla. Cosce, glutei, bicipiti. Resistere. Ma non oggi. Oggi \u00e8 una giornata no. Ci sta, bisogna accettarsi anche nelle proprie debolezze. E poi, in fondo, tra qualche giorno sar\u00e0 di nuovo venerd\u00ec\u2026\r\n&nbsp;\r\n\r\nhttps:\/\/youtu.be\/mGgMZpGYiy8\r\n\r\n<small>Friday, I\u2019m in love (The Cure), 1992<\/small>","_it_post_name":"giorno-sei","_it_post_excerpt":"Luned\u00ec 8 aprile 2024\r\nMonday is blue","_it_post_title":"Giorno Sei","_en_post_content":"<h3>Monday is blue<\/h3>\r\n\r\nA diary is akin to a treasure chest, preserving thoughts, impressions, and events from the past. It captures instants in their raw immediacy, unfiltered, much like a photograph. And unfiltered means being honest and open in their retelling. So within this chest lie not just the gleaming jewels of enthusiasm, but also the rough pebbles of disappointment. And today is such a day, a day of lows. Perhaps it's due to being forced to do nothing, the inability to steer events; nevertheless, I should have anticipated the arrival of this wave of despondency.\r\n\r\nToday, all I'm permitted to do is prepare, to improve my shape. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Every day pushing oneself further than what the body deems possible. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Set after set, attempting to overcome the resistance of an elastic band, even if I\u2019m barely able to stand. And the impulse to surrender is immediate, to succumb to the fear of failure. Who\u2019s making you do this, Marco? The siren whispers persuasively in your ear, tempting you to let go, to relinquish your shield like Archilochus, and let events unfold as they may. Thighs, glutes, biceps. And you walk in the park beneath your home, occasionally extending your strolls by five minutes, attempting to ignore the other tempting siren, soft and seductive, inviting you to rest on a bench and bask in the early rays of spring. But you're neither Odysseus nor the fearless warrior who defiantly awaits the charge of the opposing phalanx.\r\n\r\nSo you sit. You yield. Then you recall another poet, Tyrtaeus, a Spartan from the 7th century BC, who extolled the indomitable hoplites of Sparta: 'Let each one stand firmly planted on the ground, biting his lips with his teeth, concealing his thighs, shins, chest, and shoulders behind the vast expanse of a shield.' And you realise that sometimes all one must do is endure, grit one's teeth, and withstand. Embrace and acknowledge fear, rather than simply shunning it. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Endure. But not today. Today is a day of lows. It's acceptable; one must embrace oneself, flaws and all. And besides, in just a few days, it will be Friday once more\u2026\r\n\r\n&nbsp;\r\n\r\nhttps:\/\/youtu.be\/mGgMZpGYiy8?si=sKVXvV5o7Lw9UyaQ\r\n\r\n<small>Friday, I\u2019m in love (The Cure), 1992<\/small>","_en_post_name":"day-six","_en_post_excerpt":"Monday, April 8th 2024\r\nMonday is blue","_en_post_title":"Day Six","edit_language":"en","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-225","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-diario"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v28.7 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Giorno Sei - Contromano<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Un diario \u00e8 come uno scrigno. Conserva a distanza di tempo pensieri, impressioni e avvenimenti di un dato momento. 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