“In this life, we will know and bear witness to incredible sorrow and anguish, and we will experience breathless love and joy. There will be boring days and exciting moments, low-grade disappointment and seething anger, wonder and confusion. The wild and ever-changing nature of emotions and experiences leaves our hearts stretch-marked and strong, worn and willing.”
Brené Brown, “Atlas of the Heart”
I want to open this blog with something different. I would like to honor those that are facing unfathomable challenges in Ukraine and in other parts of an unsettled world.
The above quote, from Brené Brown’s book Atlas of the Heart, has been in my email for several months. I found it when I was in Italy and tucked it away knowing there would be a time I would need to revisit it.
Now seems like the appropriate time to remember that quote. It seems more important now to ground my thinking in the ever-present balance of give and take in life.
When I first read it, I was surrounded by some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in Puglia, Italy. I had spent a day driving through olive groves with the blue Adriatic on one side and white-washed cities crowning the hilltops on the other side marveling at the at the splendor of baroque architecture against the undeveloped and unkept coastlines along the heel of Italy’s boot.
That night I walked through the city of Polignano a Mare as Christmas decorations were being prepared throughout the city. I thought how beautiful everything was but with a pang of sorrow for seeing all of this alone without somebody to share in the experience.
Fast forward to today, and I have nothing but beautiful memories of my time spent in Puglia, along with many other places in Italy. I question my desire to want more while my heart breaks with the knowing of what is happening to the Ukrainian people right now. Do I have the right to ask for more? I think I do.
I think the constant desire to bathing in all that is beautiful from the fountain of this world has kept me from falling apart these last four years. Without the desire to see and do everything that is possible, I’m not sure what I would have left to focus on in this life. It seems to be my purpose for now. It is my calling. On March 16, Darin will have departed four years to the day. There are moments I find myself wondering what I will do with the rest of my life without him.
I can’t seem to rationalize why gifts are bestowed on some, and lives are taken from others. I know the question has no answer, but I find myself thinking of it often. Now I have time alone without the bustle of Rome or the adventures of an unknown road to stimulate me. It’s just Sofia and I in the quiet countryside of France and the realization that I’ll be leaving this behind and heading back to Italy soon. I’ll be heading back to my fountain of life and I will enjoy the splendor that life is willing to offer. Who knows how long we have to enjoy what is in front of us?
A conversation with my father
I talked to my father last night to tell him I was safe at home. Once we got the small talk out of the way, the conversation turned to the crisis playing out in Ukraine.
As my father and I talked about the images from Ukraine we saw on the television, he suddenly choked-up. My mind searched for a response to comfort him, but all I could say was, “I’m sorry this has to happen. I don’t understand why any one would want to inflict suffering on others. I have to believe God’s hand is working through this. Isn’t there always a plan?” It was a question not an answer.
My question back to my father may sound dismissive, but it’s really all I can say. Because I believe no matter what happens, this life experience has amazing highs and amazing lows. How I spend my time in the midst of all of that it is where I find growth.
I think that’s what Brené was attempting to say. We will experience it all. We hope for well-spaced rests in between. But, that’s not how it always works. When we ultimately depart this life, we will be battle-scarred and weary, but we will be better for coming through it.
My father sounded different on the phone. Besides his sadness, his voice carried a sense of acceptance, almost submission. He was sufficed with everything that he had experienced and simply wanted to see others have the same opportunity to live as he has.
Would it not be a better world if all that was available was available to all?
In the last several months my father has dealt with age-related health issues. His closest family member, his sister, moved across the country to be with her granddaughter. Along with those changes, he witnessed several friends pass due to COVID and other health conditions. I could not understand all of what he was feeling. However, I could imagine what it must be like to look upon all of that and try to find sense and comfort in it.
When we finished the phone call I thought he was feeling a bit better. The memory of his voice and his emotion stayed with me ever since. I wasn’t sure if I was helpful, but I tried.
After a conversation with myself and yesterday, joy won
I wanted to use this update to write about my last month spent in Rome. There were visitors from America, France and Italy. And finally, I found my new apartment. However, all of that seemed very unimportant. It seemed out of touch.
I have been thinking about the time I visited Ukraine back in 2013. It was my 43 birthday and I spent time in Odessa and Yalta with Darin and friends, Rick and Mick.
In 2014, Yalta was annexed by Russia as part of Crimea. It would not have been possible to visit if we waited until the following year. However Odessa has remained in the territory of Ukraine. Many consider Odessa as the entrance to Europe because of its far-East location on the continent.
Both Odessa and Yalta were beautiful in their architectural mix of both European and imperial styles. They both shared amazing vistas of the Black Sea.
It was a wonderful opportunity to meet the Ukrainian people and experience their way of life.
Of course now, I wonder what remains of Yalta after the change in government, and will the beauty of Odessa and it’s people remain.
I didn’t take great photos at the time, but I thought I would share a few with you. Perhaps it may give you a small sense of all that is at stake in this war and what makes my small sacrifices seem almost meaningless.
Finding joy despite the pull towards sadness
I will try to lighten things up on the next post, because there are truly amazing, funny and surprising adventures that I must tell you. But for now, I think I need to take a more sober route. The times call for it.
I spent a good part of yesterday hosting lunch with friends at the house in France. It was one of those beginning of the end lunches as my time draws to a close. It felt as if I needed to make up for time in the future when I won’t be here to enjoy such moments.
Lunch was a welcomed distraction from the heaviness of the past few days. We had not seen each other in over five months. There was much to catch up on and many moments that found us laughing together. It was a good way to end the weekend. Yesterday, joy won.
When lunch was finished, after my friends departed and the kitchen cleaned, I sat down to catch my thoughts. I appreciated the day and the laughs we shared. Those thoughts took me back to the moments over the last 5 months whilst traveling when I laughed uncontrollably with joy. I laughed with strangers and I laughed with long-time friends, laughed watching Sofia react to her surroundings, and I laughed at myself attempting to converse and understand the various accents and dialects throughout Italy. It made me realize how fortunate I was to have those moments.
I don’t laugh as often as I did in the past, but I’m getting better. Now I catch myself laughing and I recognize how good it feels when my belly hurts. It feels strange at the same time. There is always a pull to sadness if I allow it. Yesterday, I am happy to say, joy won.
I turned on some music and found myself dancing alone in my living room. Thankfully I live in the country where nobody can can see me. That just made me dance even more and it felt almost like a trance-I listened to music from the 80s and 90s and thought about the years when my life seemed less complicated.
After I turned down the dancing and the music, I started to have my normal evening talk with myself. It was the talk I have every night before I go to bed to measure how the day went. Did I do all that I could? How did I feel about the day? Was there something I would do differently tomorrow?
These are the questions I ask myself as I learn to straddle between all of the influences in the world. Things that tell me all is not ok and things that remind me I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
Yesterday, I was able to feel good with my answers. Yesterday, joy won.
I hope you are reading this in a safe comfortable place. I hope you feel the love of family and friends around you.
My heart sends out love and strength to the people of Ukraine-the over 2 million refugees who have fled and entrusted themselves into the arms of strangers and to those who stayed to fight. Thank you for following along with The Spaghetti Diaries and thank you for keeping the people of Ukraine in your heart. If you are interested in some of the most trusted charities providing support for Ukraine, I found this website helpful: Charity Watch