#59: Postcard from Sicily: Dolce far Niente
After being laid off, I never thought I'd go on vacation again. But here I am.
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Postcard from Sicily: Dolce far Niente
One of my recurring middle-of-the-night fears after being laid off was that I’d never go on vacation again. With the loss of my stable income came the grief for all the things I thought I’d never be able to do again - facials, clothes shopping, fancy dinners, and travel. As it turns out, I can still do these things, I just have to do them more mindfully.
While I was still on the severance gravy train I actually traveled A LOT. I went to Santa Fe, Los Angeles, Barcelona, and Mexico. But then the severance stopped and I thought, Well, that’s the end of traveling for me. Readers, it wasn’t true. I saved my money, I gathered my Amex points, I put my clients and freelance gigs on hold for a week and voilà, I’m in Sicily!
Dolce far Niente is an Italian saying that translates to “the sweetness of doing nothing.” That’s what I’m here in Sicily for a week to do, ostensibly. Find the sweetness in doing nothing.
I just finished a two-hour yoga class. I popped on my new red sunglasses that I got for 10 Euro at the beach. I’m halfway through my third book of the week. My feet are dangling in a very cold, but very beautiful freshwater pool that overlooks a mountain. The colors of the vista change with the passing sun and the clouds drift in lazy patterns over me. I can smell a hint of the fruit growing around me — figs, pomegranate, crab apples.
My mind is wandering back to the vacations I used go on vacation while employed at my corporate job. Every morning and evening, my anxiety would compel me to swipe through my work emails, keeping an “eye on things”, lest I’d come back to some truly terrible disaster. (That happened to me the one I didn’t check my email on an international getaway. I returned with a 9am emergency meeting with HR. Talk about a rough re-entry.)
Barring any true disasters like that, I’d typically return from vacation with thousands of unread emails and the most relaxed mindset I could muster. I’d be determined to hold on to vacation brain for as long as I could. Maybe I could just be like this all the time at work, I’d think. Unhurried, unbothered, unencumbered. Usually, vacation brain lasted for about one day, or until the first fire burst into flames and landed on my desk. Is there any place for relaxation in corporate America?
Now that I’m self-employed, vacation is hitting different. I’m starting at a much lower baseline stress level. I’m not getting 300 emails a day. There are no “emergencies” to deal with. Just the weight of knowing that whatever happens in my career now is directly correlative to how much effort I put in. And if I’m not putting in any effort, what’s happening? NOTHING. And that word still scares me if I’m being honest.
Yesterday, I visited a small village Sicily. I arrived, mistakenly, during siesta time, around 1pm. Everything — including the one church, the museum, and the grocery store were closed. All that was open was a small gelato shop. Can you imagine? An entire village that pretty much shuts down completely between 1pm and 4pm on a weekday? But it’s just the way of life here. Sicilians consider the sweetness of doing nothing a right and not a privilege.
That begs the question: How does one become more comfortable with the sweetness of doing nothing in America’s capitalist society? I’m starting to think that the only way is to build the practice of doing nothing into your daily life. Meditation. Naps. Walks. Reading. Sipping a glass of wine with a friend. If all else fails, five minutes to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. I’m coming to understand that the sweetness of doing nothing shouldn’t be something you only experience when you go on vacation.
So, as I sit here, soaking up the sun and the stillness, I’m reminded that the sweetness of doing nothing isn't about a lack of productivity, but a space to reconnect with yourself, away from the constant hum of obligations. It’s a reminder to embrace rest, even in the midst of the chaos. Whether I’m in Sicily or back at home, I’m learning that creating these moments is just as important as any goal or task on my to-do list. Maybe you don’t need to wait for your next vacation to try it—start small, and who knows, you might just find a little sweetness in your everyday life too.
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