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the color test

The color test was devised in 1949 by Switzerland's Max Luscher, the various fields of application are: clinical, personnel selection, vocational guidance, education . In psychosomatic medicine test is a position of prominence as it allows the identification of areas of both physiological and psychological tension, even when they have not yet reached the symptomatic expression, allowing the physician and the psychologist to formulate a more precise diagnosis. This test
being able to offer useful information about the physiological condition of the subject, its source voltage, the compensation mechanisms and expectations, stands as an important tool for all professionals who ddedicano hypnosis, the speech therapy and training to autigeno .


Dr. Alessandra Rosa

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traps COMMUNICATION

During the talks often make many mistakes without realizing it .... Here are some examples:

1. Conrontazione
trap of denial, the operator insists on the change and try to force resistance and doubts of the patient;
2. Trap of blame;
3. Trap of labeling;
4. Trap guidance to the solution;
5. Trap consolation
6. Trap interpretation.


Gordon has identified the following building blocks of communication :


1. giving orders;
2. making threats;
3. giving advice, providing solutions;
4. paternalistic to preach;
5. criticize, judge;
6. agree;
7. ridicule;
8. interpret;
9. consular
10. investigate, ask questions, persistent;
11. distracted, change the subject.


Alessandra Rosa Dott.ssa

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Christmas Lunch Christmas Past

rang the bell.
"But hello!" Rang Mrs Angela. "Come in! Welcome to our humble home. "
Mr. Andrew, whose family name was rarely entered. His worn shoes with rubber soles made noise on the floor waxed. Ms. Angela noticed that it did not take the hair twisted in his hands as the poor had seen in fiction. She begged him to follow her. They went into a dining room with long tables set up for the holidays. Red, white, gold, crystal, silver, ribbons, bows, paper angels, centerpiece of impeccable taste.
There were ten other people standing in various corners of the rectangular room, which is illuminated by a glass door. You could not see the garden because the curtains of lace from Burano.
"Dear friends," cried Mrs. Angela, "It is our new friend ... uh ..."
"Andrea."
"Oh, dear Andrea, please, sit down. Here, beside me. Now I present all his new friends. But it is not nice this idea? "
Lunch lasted four hours.
Ms. Angela sat rarely, despite the presence of Filipino cook and his cousin, co-opted as a maid for Christmas. It was important that the cribs in puff pastry on each plate were prepared correctly, that the number of shrimp were the same for all, that the sauce was placed on the right side of the fish, that the turkey was presented with a specific number of slices of potato, and that the peas do not come out while the artichokes were served. The sorbet was to be served only by tapping the stem of the glass to not spoil the effect of ice on the glass right out of the freezer, and slice of Christmas cake served with a square tip up, to rumble.
And so it was.
between courses, each in turn was a nice question to Mr Andrew to make him feel at home, in a simple, quiet people.
"Where were you born?"
"Where you from?"
"He has worked?"
"Family?"
"What books do you read?"
"prefers to invest in stocks or bonds or have a mixed portfolio?" A
end of the meal, the tolling of eighteen, Mr. Andrew thanked and left.
"Well, it was not bad. We were good to join the initiative calls a homeless person to lunch, do not you think? "Mrs. Angela lit a candle scent eats where he was sitting just before Mr. Andrea. He paused for a moment, looked around. "But holy polenta! He ripped the silver spoon! "
Mr. Andrea lit a cigarette butt he found on the ground. He turned the corner. He paused for a moment, looked around.
"But shit! I have scrubbed the box! "

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Ours, at the time, the early seventies, was not an ecological crime. Go to Christmas in the snowy woods to look for a pine tree, "the" pine, was still governed by an act of nature, an act old, ancient, atavistic.

My father did not speak. He was looking for.

There is an old English Christmas song that celebrates the good king Wenceslau Czechoslovakian: in Santo Stefano looks out and sees a poor man shivering in the snow. He goes out, full of good intent, and no doubt a princely evening meal, and brings gifts. Behind him, a little fatigue pageboy. The tender is the king putting his feet walking in the fingerprint image. I
in the woods of Scots pine trees in the sunset, I have not lost simply because I loved that song. The feet of my father were great, and I was taken in my role as a pageboy in the wake of the king. The feet of my father protected me against all evil, against the elves, spirits, fairies that I would be kidnapped, leaving my father a changeling, a girl fairy. But my father was the strongest of them was huge, powerful and above all had the rubber boots that leave footprints important. Without those footprints

style king Wenceslau I would have lost. Because I owned a single thing. Incredible. I owned a pair of rubber boots, orange (and so far I grant your non-surprise) with molded soles that leave footprints in the snow for six types of bird. No one else had similar boots, and despite my research, I have not ever found.
My father immediately recognized the tree.

Come back, dragged him, this time chatting, telling of how we put in a vase, as we decorated. I pretended to help, pulling on the bit with the utmost care: the tip is crucial for a Christmas tree. My father left me to do, knowing that it was holding but very little. And I knew he knew, and I was done out of kindness, and I burst my heart with love. And he knew that I knew he knew, and my heart would burst for love. This, however, I realized only many years later, in summer, when she was a woman, and from room to room our eyes met.

My mother calls me every year when he finished making the tree, a tree now commercial, ecological, do not go over in the woods. I close my eyes. Walk around the tree. I place my feet imprints large. Breath the clean snow of the forest, feel the sting of the cold twilight. I feel small. I look for my father's hand. And i find it. Always.