In this New Year’s hodgepodge, I recount what remains in my pantry of words, which is neither the most assorted nor the richest but is mine in the sense that it really cannot belong to anyone else. I write to try to understand, at the end of another carousel ride, how much authenticity there has been in these months and then, who knows, for someone who might find something in it for themselves.
Cooking is not my forte, despite descending from excellent rézdore (traditional Italian cooks) and a father who learned to make do without them when they were gone. Instead, I prepare words every day. I choose them, I take care of them, sometimes better, sometimes worse. Sometimes they come out disordered and with errors, other times they shine, at least for a moment, and I let myself be inspired by their glow. I welcome them, listen to them, feel their power. I shoot them into the air like fireworks. Boom. I pick up the fragments. Sometimes they are noisy, sometimes crystalline, falling like a light rain, enveloping like cold, biting fog. Others are subtle and read in transparency, some warm like the sun’s rays in spring. And then there are words that sink deep, that become body, stars, leaves: the words of silence.
They are made of space and presence, those that remain after everything, despite everything, those that are always there. And it is of these that I want to talk.
2023 has been intense
I don’t know whether to say that in my life I have ever experienced so many peaks and abysses in such a short time or if this assessment is just the result of a perspective error because I am still immersed in it. I have studied and experimented like a madman. I have not been well, I have been very well. I thought some situations had come to an end and instead those reflections were not sunsets but dawns. I have been disappointed by some people, I still feel their wounds, while others have shown rare qualities, tenderness, listening, acceptance, intelligence. I am very grateful to all of them. There have been disturbances, restless desires, moments of absolute peace and carefree happiness.
I found myself in Berlin clubs with improbable outfits, on stretchers in the emergency room feeling fragile and scared, opening a studio in Bologna, traveling alone and safely by car exploring the center of France to reach a Buddhist center to listen to the teachings of important Tibetan masters. I have found new travel companions for whom I feel deep affection and have parted ways with others with whom there was evidently nothing more to say.
There was heat, there was cold. It rained a lot, it didn’t rain for days. Books and movies, dance shows, taxes, opening new offices, waves, concerts passed by. Madonna in Milan. The Open Festival, the Philosophy Festival. A few funerals. I cried many times. Terrible things happened, fantastic things. I screamed with joy, surprised by mountain landscapes. I participated in design and marketing events. I have dealt with my rebranding and that of my clients. I am renovating my house. I have held several hundred hours of training courses.
I enrolled in a wonderful Master’s in Contemplative Studies at the University of Psychology in Padua, which I have the privilege to attend. With friends, collaborators, and clients I have truly lived a thousand experiences. What is certain is that there have been situations that forced me to stop and review habits, lifestyles. The way of resonating with the world.
Indeed, the world
There are wars everywhere. People don’t know how to drive. Prices are sky-high. Pandoro and peaches have made more headlines than the dead at sea and in war. Autonomous cars are slow to arrive while brains functioning like automatons are everywhere. Markets go up and down. I don’t know if the “ə” is needed, and between metaverse and fediverse, I got lost.
In this chaos, I abandoned some paths to try to take others that lead to different altitudes to breathe purer air, literally, by taking some walks in mountains inhabited by sparrows and wind, chestnut trees, and probably elves, but also reserving spaces of quiet in my city home.
I have adopted a small daily gesture
In the morning, I fill a bowl with water and observe it. It’s incredible: every day it’s different (not the bowl, which is always the same, but the water and the light that illuminates it). I put my wishes, the emotions of that moment, gratitude for another life opportunity into it. If I can, I practice for a few minutes then start with meetings, emails, and everything else. In the evening, before going to bed, the last thing I do is empty that bowl, letting go, letting the water flow. It’s a nice exercise, I recommend it.
The hodgepodge is always missing some ingredient, but it’s still a fallback recipe, with anuncertain flavor, and you shouldn’t have too many expectations. The mix, I would say, is ready. It just remains to cook it, on a low flame, taking care of it, being thankful for this dish, even for that bitter tip, not sought but which ultimately gives flavor. I’ll be careful not to burn it, to check from time to time until it forms a crust. I’ll make a little more hoping it can feed someone who might need it.
Happy 2024
