Hang in there…eventually every storm runs out of rain.

Every storm runs out of rain

The title for this month’s post comes from a quote attributed to the late American poet, Maya Angelou. In times like these, I often think, “WWMAS…What would Maya Angelou say?” She would undoubtedly craft something beautiful that instills calm while never compromising her voice to combat the world’s wrongs. Her quote, “Every storm runs out of rain,” is a call to remain positive, hopeful, and grateful.

The first three months of 2025 have been stormy, both personally and globally. I won’t get into all the details, but I feel a bit drenched—unexpected surprises, some family medical issues, and, of course, the state of world affairs.

Yesterday, I stepped out of the shower and noticed an unusual amount of hair in the drain. It made me think, “Something’s not right. Even my hair is revolting, along with other parts of my body.” My stomach was in knots, and I hadn’t been sleeping well. Fate, in its usual way, decided to send a message through the vanity channel: if I wanted to keep my hair, I needed to lose the anxiety and stress.

This winter has been a wet one

I can’t be the only one who finds it difficult to face the day without a sense of apprehension about what will happen next. Geo-political upheaval, the relentless news cycle, economic instability, the slow erosion of peace, and the inability to see the real truth amidst the noise—it all creates an unrelenting downpour. We feel powerless and drenched.

People want an outlet for their anger and fear, and they turn social media into a feeding frenzy. At times, I jump right in, just like everyone else. It’s hard to resist the storm when indulging in that instant feeling of intellectual superiority feels so good. But the feeling never lasts—especially when I realize that I’m not solving a problem or persuading anyone that my position is the right one.

I need to step back a bit and ask myself if this participation is even healthy.

Storms and rain uncover the perdita in our lives

Just when I was hoping for a quiet March to catch up on projects, another storm arrived, reminding me that we are all subject to the Universe’s plan.

If there’s one Italian word I have dreaded since purchasing my apartment, it’s perdita. It means loss or leak and is often associated with perdita d’acqua, a water leak. Over the last six months, my new palazzo has seen more than its fair share of them.

A few weeks ago, I received an email informing me that the building owners needed to fix a perdita on my terrace, beneath the tile. When it rained, water was slowly seeping into the apartment below—an issue they had been aware of for some time. But now that they had received an offer on the apartment, they were suddenly in a hurry to address the problem.

The work required my cooperation since it involved removing a significant portion of my terrace tile, resealing the foundation, and then retiling the affected area. The process would take 2-3 weeks and be noisy, dusty, and disruptive.

March was supposed to be peaceful. No contractors, no dust, no noise. I had plans to tackle other projects and pick up writing the book I started last year. Instead, the building owners were turning my March upside-down. I had a perdita of control, and I didn’t like the feeling.

My sister often reminds me that I thrive on order and despise chaos. She’s right. I don’t like it when things get messy and uncontrollable, and I dislike it even more when someone else’s chaos bleeds into my world. I like knowing how to be prepared and perceiving I have control.

Discharging the energy and being prepared

After months of proverbial storms, I felt like a lightning rod on a skyscraper—charged and waiting for the right moment to discharge. Unbeknownst to the owners, they had just handed me the opportunity.

Fresh off a trip to America, I received a call from the realtor who sold me my apartment. He explained what needed to be done on the terrace and mentioned they were prepared to offer me a “gesture” for the inconvenience. He added that he knew I was a brava persona and reasonable. That’s when I felt the charge build.

Anytime someone starts a conversation with “I know you’re a good and reasonable person,” be prepared. They are about to take advantage of your kindness. On top of that, the language barrier makes it even harder to fully grasp what you’re being asked to agree to.

My next question was, “What happens if there’s a delay?” (I mean, it’s Italy. I love this country, but there’s always a delay.)

He replied, “There won’t be a delay—two weeks at most. Andrà tutto bene…everything will go just fine.”

He then kept pushing: “But we agree, right? We can start on Monday?”

Finally, I firmly said, “No, we don’t agree. You can’t start on Monday. I need to see everything in writing.” I ended the call and waited for the email.

The downpour arrived.

I received an email 30 minutes later that said, “Thanks for agreeing to begin the work.” It was then that the lightning bolt discharged.

I wanted to see them be successful, and I certainly did not want to profit from the situation. However, I was not willing to pay out of my pocket to leave my home. Remaining home during the work wasn’t an option.

I outlined my terms very clearly, as well as asked for insurance in case the work was delayed. I tried to prepare myself for the work. There was a way to minimize the chaos, but not stop it.

Later that day, I received an email confirming that they had agreed to my terms. I got what I needed to feel secure, and I was able to accommodate their timeline. It felt like a good negotiation—how the world should operate.

I don’t believe we are here to take advantage of each other, but to help one another gain an advantage in whatever storms we’re facing.

It was best to wait out the storm from a different vantage point

With our successful agreement put to rest, I decided to leave immediately and booked a last-minute trip to Prague. I had never been, and it seemed like the perfect way to escape both the storm in my palazzo and the one in my head. I packed my bags and departed just as scaffolding was being installed.

In the end, the Universe proved me right to stick to my principles. A few days into my trip, the apartment owner sent an update—the worst winter storms had arrived across Italy, delaying the work. It was going to take longer than two weeks, and non andrà tutto bene.

I stayed in Prague for a week and returned home a few days ago to assess the situation. The scaffolding was still there, but no other work was done.

Preparing for a storm is different than trying to control it

Storms are massive and powerful forces. They affect all of us whether we want them to or not. But when we have the opportunity, we should prepare for the rain and remember that, eventually, every storm runs out of rain.

Since my last post, I have once again taken to meditation as a means to try to calm the inner mind and see through the clouds and clutter. It’s a discipline that I fall away from at times, until the cold reality hits me that it is one of the simplest and most effective things I can do to create calm in chaos.

My impromptu holiday away from the work was exactly what I needed. I’ve shared some photos that I took during my trip—they are a small reminder that there are still so many beautiful things in a stormy world.

Thanks for following along. If you have any rainy-day stories to share, please let me know in the comments or email me at luke@thespaghettidiaries.com. If you haven’t subscribed, or wish to send to a friend, please subscribe to my blog below or share my link. Here’s to brighter skies ahead for all of us.