Purpose interrupted

“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”

Pablo Picasso

We are all independent souls jostling and bumping into each on this planet trying to find purpose. When I choose the name for the blog, The Spaghetti Diaries, I was inspired by the idea that life is a bowl of spaghetti, individual strands of people and experiences tangled and swirled together onto one large plate. Individually they are separable, but the real joy comes when consumed collectively. I have always believed our life purpose is found in those defining moments we have with the people and places on our journey.

When those experiences are few, I feel vulnerable, alone and that life has stalled, or as I call it, “purpose interrupted.” The walls close in on me. Traveling allows me to feel purposeful and give me a sense that I’m contributing to the greater good by twirling the spaghetti of the world.

I set off on July 4th to reconnect with my purpose. My car journey would take me across the northern part of Italia, traveling through the regions of Piemonte, Lombardia, Veneto and Trentino-Alto Adige into le Dolomiti (the Dolomites) range of mountains. The destination was Innsbruck, Austria and then Lago di Garda (Lake Garda) on my return.

Sofia, my copilot, was there to provide company and social interaction. At times I felt as if I was “pimping” her out for social connections, but I don’t think she minded. Because of her, I met many people during the course of that week. A few of them left an impact on me. During those encounters it felt like purpose interrupted had taken a pause and I was doing what I was meant to do: engaging with strangers, hearing their stories and sharing them with all of you.

Looking for magic

I first traveled to Innsbruck 10 years ago with my father. It was my 40th birthday and I wanted to indulge myself. It also gave my father something to shift his focus. He was still recovering from the loss of my mother. It was a good temporary antidote for what ailed him.

My father and I wound our way around Germany, Switzerland and Italia. We stopped in Innsbruck for a few nights on our way back to Germany. It was one of our favorite places.

Above all, I remember that trip with my father being magic to me. I was going to be 40 and it felt like the world was opening just for me. All the tangible signs of success were present in my life: a great husband, wonderful family and friends and a rewarding career. I felt the magical energy of opportunity ahead of me. Watching my father’s spirit lift, gave me hope that he would recover from my mother’s passing and his own purpose interrupted moment.

Fast-forward to now, 10-years later, and so much is different. I will be 50 in September. Life is unimaginably different from what I thought it would be. It feels as if all that I planned for my life has changed, my purpose interrupted.

On this recent trip part of me was looking for that same magic. I wanted to confirm that I was on the right path. I wasn’t sure what magic would look like or how it would appear, but eventually, it did appear. It came to me in the form of personal experiences and stories that others gifted to me, and in those gifts, I began to feel that same feeling of hope that was present 10-years before.

Innsbruck, Austria

Innsbruck is often overlooked by its showier sister to the east, Salzburg. It is a gem of a city dating back to the 4^th century. It served as a Roman fortification to protect the trade route over the Alps.

I spent most of my time revisiting the medieval city center and exploring the area during Sofia’s daily walks. It was on one of those walks when I first encountered Annie, a Chinese immigrant living in Innsbruck.

I was window shopping in the city center, when out from a store Annie ran to greet Sofia. She had her cellphone camera ready to go. She initially acknowledged me in German. My response was, “Ich verstehen nichts.” It means, “I understand nothing.” At the time, It wasn’t the most-gentle response, but it was one of the few phrases in German I remembered.

I tried English and then Italian with her. As it turned out, she spoke basic Italian and we were able to communicate. It soon became clear that she had little interest in me, but it was Sofia that held her attention. She knew the breed well and said she hasn’t seen one in many years since she left her home in China.

Her background sparked my interest, and after that, we had a host of things to talk about: her 13-year-old daughter, her shop and her life in Austria after immigrating. Even though we didn’t comprehend everything we spoke, we understood enough.

Each day I walked Sofia to her store to greet her. I got to know Annie a bit better each day and couldn’t help but think what an amazing story she has­­–being a single mother in a foreign country, and running a business all by herself. That’s true girl power for you.

On my last day, I stopped to say goodbye to Annie. She asked when I was returning as she attempted a socially-distant cheek kiss. I told her soon, and that I would always remember her. As I walked away I couldn’t help but think, who would have imagined I would make an acquaintance with a Chinese immigrant, in Austria, speaking Italian! This was definitely not a purpose interrupted moment. Everything aligned quite perfectly.

Lago di Garda

After three days in Innsbruck, I drove back through le Dolomite into Italia and Lago di Garda, specifically Riva del Garda on the north shore of the lake.

Lago di Garda is the largest fresh-water lake in Italia. It stretches from the rolling hills of Lombardia and Veneto in the south, to the dramatic Alpine peaks of Trentino in the north. The mountains rise up from clear turquoise-blue water.

When I arrived on that first day, I drove around the northern perimeter of the lake. I stopped outside the town of Malcesine and found a beautiful vista point with a public park and beach. Sofia and I took in the view from a blanket on the shore. From there I contemplated life, while Sofia contemplated the ducks in the water.

An unexpected match

Later that day, I was having dinner next to a couple and their young son. They had a large Akita, who couldn’t stop admiring Sofia. We started to talk about dogs which led to more interesting topics.

The husband, Yevgeny, was a Russian-born man of Jewish descent. He immigrated to Tel Aviv as a child after the fall of the Soviet Union. His wife, Ariya, was a Syrian-born Kurd. Her family had slowly immigrated out of Syria to Holland over time as conditions worsened there.

They were not the typical couple one would expect to meet, because the tension between those two ethnic groups doesn’t typically promote romance. However, they found each other in Amsterdam. Both had previous marriages with children and strong ties to their homeland. They both left their homes to start again, and despite the odds, love found them.

That evening, we talked until the restaurant closed. It was a conversation that had me hanging on every word. I wanted to know about Yevgeny’s life in the Soviet Union and Israel and Ariya’s life in Syria. That encounter shed understanding about the dire situation in Syria and the challenges Syrians face.

Yevgeny and Ariya saw their homelands collapse for different reasons. They both had their purpose interrupted, but then they had to start again. Their story reminded me to believe that under the rubble, people have found something new and beautiful.

What surprised me, was that they did not find their lives to be that unique. They seemed comfortable with the adversity and risk of their past. At the time I remember thinking to myself, “I must aspire to be live more comfortably alongside ambiguity, adversity and risk.” They inspired me.

Because of that encounter, I now have a piece of my thoughts attached to Yevgeny and Ariya and their well being. I hope I can look back at that moment and always appreciate the human desire to persevere. I hope to visit them one day in Harlem, Holland to continue our conversation.

A shared connection

My last memorable introduction happened when I met Luigi “Gio” and Grazia. They were in their late 60s and married almost 50-years. Their children had grown and gone, but Gio and Grazia remained in Riva del Garda because it was their home.

Neither one of them spoke English, so the first encounter was a bit of a challenge. However, each night our conversation progressed. We talked about how they first met, their children and their life in Riva del Garda. I also shared a bit of my story, but didn’t feel ready to open up fully.

On my last night, I answered the “why” to what brought us together. We were exchanging contact information, and Grazia gave me her phone to input my number. On her phone was a picture of a much-older woman smiling. I curiously asked who it was, and with a small pause, she answered in Italian, “That is my mother. She died nine days ago.”

I thought I hadn’t heard the response correctly. I said, “Mi scusi, ma nove giorni fa?” (Excuse me, but nine days ago?) She nodded her head. I immediately regretted asking the question. I could only muster a simple, “Mi dispiace (I’m sorry).” and touch my heart. Grazia saw the reaction in my face, grabbed my hand and smiled behind her misty eyes. Gio put his hand on her shoulder.

Because of that one exchange, we all felt the pain of loss that connects us. There was no purpose interrupted. The purpose was fully present and I knew why I met them.

Feeling grateful

Overall, the entire week was full of moments that allowed me to connect with people and reconnect with my purpose. After I returned to Torino, I contemplated how fortunate I was to have the freedom to travel and have encounters with people like Annie, Yevgeny, Ariya, Gio and Grazia. Each of them took a piece of my heart with them, and I felt like my heart grew with each piece I gave away. Perhaps my purpose interrupted is really purpose redefined.

I look forward to continuing to talk about the people I meet along my journey. Each one of us has a fascinating story sitting just behind that image we choose to share with the world.

I hope you enjoyed this trip through the Italian and Austrian Alps. If you would like to read more about Innsbruck (click here) and Lago di Garda (click here), these websites helped provide context for my post. Thank you for following The Spaghetti Diaries.