TRC #11 - On Living Lightly, Montelpuciano and Tired Feet
Encouraging creatives to follow their passion
HELLO, GORGEOUS
Today I'm writing straight from southern Italy to share thoughts about Montepulciano (the wine, not the region) with you. People would say that in the end, I'm talking about balance, but the truth is that balance comes to people in different ways, and today's reflection is a small piece of what balance means to me. I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and the only possible playlist for today's newsletter is this one, of course:
RENEGADE: Thoughts on lightness with Montepulciano, wind on the face, and tired feet.
Everything I do in my life is to always bring me back to this moment I am living as I write this. When I sit down to rest my tired feet after walking 10km exploring an unknown city, with a glass of chilled wine in hand, not even knowing what time it is or what day of the week it is, and knowing that apart from a flight here, a accommodation there, the next few days are blank pages.
There are few sensations more delightful than at the end of a day filled with new experiences, taking a hot bath, allowing myself to wear something different from my usual basic stuff, dining at a local restaurant, drinking a few glasses of wine, and riding a rented scooter through the city at night, with a gentle breeze against my face. Living the spontaneity of changing my route and entering a bar that seems nice, engaging in conversations with locals who haven't yet realized I don't speak their language, and when I lay my head on the pillow, reviewing everything that happened during the day without the fear of not being able to sleep due to an anxious mind.
If anything, the only anxiety I tend to get when I'm vacationing comes from strategizing how to fit everything back into the suitcase for the journey home and making random plans for the future.
I love thinking about the future when I feel detached from it. The mental space of a trip is almost like a pit stop in the passage of time that always fills me with inspiration.
I never solve so many work-related things when I am away from it.
I never make so many good plans for myself as when I am far from my routine.
I never have such clarity about how I want to live my life as when I am living in a different place.
It's almost like when we stop thinking about a problem, the answer comes.
I remember a day in my therapist's office when I arrogantly declared, with the belief that I had already figured everything out about myself in my twenties, that I knew I was born to live a life of constant travel and that "this was what was missing in my life." Fabio let out an almost imperceptible sigh and gave me a half-smile, as if he had heard this speech many times from other twenty-somethings like me. He presented well-constructed arguments that I couldn't refute in the weeks following that session. He showed me that this was a childish and fantastical thought of the person I thought I wanted to be, and that for me, building roots and a pleasant routine would bring far more answers than constantly fleeing from that structure.
Now, in my thirties, with a bit more clarity about who I am and the certainty that I still have much to learn - but with many more trips under my belt - I know that what makes this moment I'm living, on a plane between Milan and Palermo, more enjoyable is experiencing the other side of it for the majority of the year. The side of productivity and routine, of daily challenges, the satisfaction of overcoming them, occasionally complaining about work or Sundays, or having to think about what to have for dinner after a 12-hour journey, and the possibility of executing all those plans that were made with a hotel pillow as my companion.
Without all of this, this pause wouldn't be as enjoyable. If I lived a constant life of travel, that would be my norm, and how sad it would be to sit in front of the Duomo in Milan with a bowl of stracciatella and a glass of Montepulciano, feeling... nothing. Perhaps even longing for the normality that everyone complains about.
It is through having lived in various places and valuing the return home each time, creating a home and a routine that bring me joy, that I have learned to embrace the lightness of life even when it feels heavy.
Creating a light routine, a light relationship with myself, and even a job where the pressure itself comes with a sense of lightness, co-creating a light-hearted relationship with someone who embraces spontaneity and travels with me.
The irony is that my eternal quest for lightness does not come without hard work, but it is a path worth choosing - and whenever we lose our way, we can always return to where we left off.
I highly recommend it.
PS: If you've been following this journey on my Instagram and want to know more details about the itinerary, costs, etc., drop me a "ciao" below and I'll get it done.
