This is it! #52 for 2021. 52 weeks of writing, reading, wondering, observing, questioning, and sharing. Thank you for joining me on this adventure! I started this year in snowy Berlin and will end it in sunny Bali. In between, I traveled, celebrated, saw friends, made new friends, cried, drank prosecco, found some new gray hairs, slept, moved, laughed, swam a lot, read a lot, ate donuts (among many other things), started Belonging, discovered the world of Korean face sponges (Do you know about these? The best.) and wrote, once a week, to all of you!

Happy Solstice from Bali! The longest day here, the shortest day there. I've been thinking a lot about traditions as the holidays inch closer. It's a good moment to check-in and see if we are celebrating intentionally, or if we're just doing what we've always done because that's how it's done.

As promised, I'm gifting you with my own reflection on turning towards love inspired by this beautiful conversation (which I read, and didn't listen to. You'd know if you paid attention to #8 in 10 Things About Me). I've been grappling with how to express what it means to "choose love" which, you're listening to well-being or wellness chatter, seems to be a fairly common refrain. 

I went to the hot springs this morning. Man-made pools with waterfalls are filled with hot (and sulfuric-smelling) water from natural springs. It’s a scientific fact that after sitting in said pools for about an hour your body turns to rubber and your brain...turns off. Especially when the only sounds are birds, rustling leaves, and falling water. Not even another person talking. Just nature. So today is short, and sweet. 

I’ve landed in Bali. It’s a long trip from anywhere in the world, made even longer this time around by a two-night required quarantine in Jakarta. (Which, coincidentally, they just upped to seven nights the day I was freed...made it in under the wire!) I choose one of the less expensive hotels: a huge complex just fifteen minutes from the airport that offered a choice between western and Asian meals. I would love to write a whole series on the food offerings (I’ve never eaten so much rice in a 48 hour period and was intrigued by the drink combinations: boxed milk with fried rice for Asian breakfast, scrambled eggs in a tortilla with mung bean milk for my western breakfast…) but that’s for a different day.

It’s a crisp Monday, clear, and cool and I’m sitting on my terrace soaking up some sun. After an extremely productive weekend of organizing, emails, and errands, I’m allowing myself some time to dawdle today. I’m catching up on my favorite newsletter, Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings), and getting lost in the archive of her writings. I ran into this lovely piece on fixed vs. growth mindset and what success looks like.

I took the weekend to do some deep rest. My body needed it. Physically and emotionally. I don’t bounce back from busy-ness the way I used to as a young adventurer willing to sleep on airport floors or stay up past midnight. (That was late for me even when I was young. Imagine now!). I did my fair share of Netflix binging. (Yes, I watched three different films with The Rock. I don’t suggest Skyscraper but I highly recommend Red Notice). I ate warm comfort foods (like oatmeal and risotto) and I sat in the midday sun soaking up energy, hoping to transform like a plant.

Nothing reminds us about the passing of time more than watching children grow up. I had the chance to see one of my favorite little guys this weekend in Florence and celebrate his first birthday. I met him in his mamma’s womb and then got to squeeze him for the first time this July when he was still a chubby, drooling, cuddly baby. Five months later and now he’s now a young adult: long, lean, crawling, eating, opinionated, and absolutely not interested in birthday cake but definitely in love with bananas, bagels, and most of all, his mom.

I have to warn you, I’m trying a little caffeine detox these days and I’m feeling it hard. That combined with our clocks changing and coming home to the seaside after two weeks at Anna Tasca Lanza has turned me into a bit of a bear (meaning that I’m in hibernation mode and can’t really tell what day or time it is anymore.) I’m drinking lots of herbal tea, eating chocolate, and staring at the wall (a favorite activity of my sister and I that involves lying in bed staring at the wall. Try it. It will not disappoint.) I have a hefty to-do list in my notebook and yet I’m prioritizing rest right now. I need it. 

I grew up doing gymnastics. I remember when I was little the classes were filled with games. We would do activities like relay races and fun exercises where we split up in teams and ran back and forth throwing socks and leotards and slippers across the floor to try to “clean up” our side. We had wheelbarrow races and would jump all around on the big cushy tumbling mats. But as I got older there was less play and more competition.

Relevant or not, I figured today was a good day to share a bit more about me. Why? Because it's HARD! As a coach, I love to listen and ask questions, but I know part of creating trust and rapport is opening up and sharing about myself as well. The last time I shared ten things about me I learned a bit more about all of you! So I thought I'd play this little game again and see what comes up. Here are ten little things, relevant or not, that I'm happy to share with you.

You all know me as an island dweller, but I’m currently out to sea, on an island that really feels like an island (rather than a continent, like Sicily.) The Aeolian islands are a little cluster of seven volcanic islands that are reachable only by boat (when the weather behaves…which so far it has). There is something gentle about Salina that I think comes from the soft light at dusk and dawn. And yet pops of pink bougainvillea, rows of green-leafed vineyards, and dark volcanic soil bring a sense of intensity to the environment…That and the dramatic changes in weather, especially this time of year when the rainstorms blow over as soon as they arrive.

I’ve been having conversations lately around regret. I feel grateful that it is not something with which I struggle. I don't often go back to past decisions and say, "If only..."My regrets are more on a momentary basis rather than consistently. I suppose I regret eating whole bags of gummy bears, and spending six euros on a hair tie that broke immediately, and wasting time reading three-quarters of a book I didn’t like (*ahem: Sally Rooney’s Beautiful World, Where Are You?)

Today I have many things on my mind that I’d like to share, but they don't seem to be coming together in the way I had hoped and dreamed. So when things are still confusing, jumbled, even overwhelming, the best advice I’ve been given is, “Start where you are.”

I lived in Brooklyn for two short years of my life starting when I was 25. For some of that time, I worked in a wonderful little independently owned cookware shop. I learned a lot about cooking (in theory, not practice): about tri-ply pans, cast iron care, hand-hammered knives, silicone spatulas, spring-form pans, and Silpat baking sheets. There were also tons of gadgets. Garlic crushers with wheels, egg yolk separators, Japanese butter knives, clip-on pasta strainers, and collapsable measuring cups. There were so many THINGS. 

Have you ever tried a prickly pear? In Italy they are called “FIchi d’India” which I don’t think is a fair name as they are neither figs nor from India. They aren’t exactly pears either. But they are prickly. Their insides are florescent: pink, green, or yellow and dotted with tiny black seeds that are annoying when you eat them but aesthetically a nice touch. Native to the Americas, prickly pears have made themselves at home around the world and are actually quite an invasive species. Australians are regretting letting them in, as they’ve taken over much of the native landscape. Sicilians are taken with them, despite the difficulty in harvesting and preparing them. (They use a version of a long broom handle with a tin can on the end to pry off the fruit and then they’re handled quite carefully in order to peel them.) 

Remember that trick where you stand in a doorway, arms by your side, palms facing in towards your body, and you extend your hands against the door frame and push and push and push? Then you step away and it’s as if your arms rise on their own? That’s the feeling of letting go. Of acceptance. Of ease.

I arrived back in Sicily ten days ago and haven’t had a night alone since I arrived. I’ve been so warmly and generously welcomed by friends and at work that I haven’t really had a moment to rest and reflect. But it’s Monday now and I’m back at Case Vecchie, headquarters of Anna Tasca Lanza, the cooking school I’ve been part of for five years. I have a big room with a little round window. Light moves slowly across the wall. Soon it will be dark. Outside I can hear only the birds. In the courtyard Felice, the farm dog, is keeping watch.

Good morning from the big island…Sicily! Travel is still a bit of a miracle, especially in these particular times, but also just in general. The fact we can cross oceans and countries in a short span of time, that we can step out of the fog (literally) and into the sun 24 hours later, is always a bit miraculous. My trip from Nantucket to Boston to Rome to Palermo was by no means a short one, but it gave me plenty of time to think.

On Thursday I head back home to Sicily. I have about ten more days of living out of my carry-on suitcase before I can settle into a new apartment. It's been two months of living on the road — a beautiful adventure of exploring my adoptive country (Italy) and reconnecting with people and places I adore at home in America. Being a bit out of my comfort zone has helped me step into further awareness about what it really means to show up as me. Here are five little thoughts that I probably know intuitively, but were reinforced in the last months.