It’s easy to settle into a feeling of living at the cottage during the winter: four days there, three nights at home settles me into the rhythm of the days. Easter Sunday I fly to Florence for two weeks, not to visit but to live there. What makes me not a tourist? I know the city, I know enough of the language to get by, but that’s not it. I have consciously chosen to live there! I rent a small apartment and with that comes a kitchen. It’s the kitchen that says to me, “Yes, you are living here.” I go to the local supermarket for stables, and I buy fruit and vegetables at Piazza Santa Spirito, Mercato Centrale, and Mercato San Ambrogio. Then every morning I retreat to the Biblioteca delle Oblate to write. The café of this library overlooks the Duomo. What a way to live!!
“Wherever you go, there you are.” I love that quote by Jon Kabat-Zinn—actually the title of his book. In fact I’m working on my own version that goes something like, “Wherever I go, there I live.” Oh, my home in Sudbury is really where I live, my true home, but when I’m at the cottage, or when traveling in Italy or Scotland, I want to feel that that’s where I am living at the moment. This mind set helps me live in the present rather than feel I am continuously in transition to the next place.
It’s easy to settle into a feeling of living at the cottage during the winter: four days there, three nights at home settles me into the rhythm of the days. Easter Sunday I fly to Florence for two weeks, not to visit but to live there. What makes me not a tourist? I know the city, I know enough of the language to get by, but that’s not it. I have consciously chosen to live there! I rent a small apartment and with that comes a kitchen. It’s the kitchen that says to me, “Yes, you are living here.” I go to the local supermarket for stables, and I buy fruit and vegetables at Piazza Santa Spirito, Mercato Centrale, and Mercato San Ambrogio. Then every morning I retreat to the Biblioteca delle Oblate to write. The café of this library overlooks the Duomo. What a way to live!!
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I don’t consider myself much of a complainer, but right now I feel the need to mention my frustration with all the noise I experienced during my walk yesterday. Oh, I’ve talked about this before, which perhaps illustrates that my intensity of feeling isn’t simply that my silence was interrupted. It has to do with all the little things right along my street that contribute to global warming, that make it harder and harder to turn things around. What is frustrating (and sad) is that I am a part of the problem—so I have to admit that this complaint is directed to me, too. Yesterday it was the HUGE transport and garbage trucks shuttering by: it was the leaf blowers blocking out the bird songs: it was the sidewalk sweeper making the air unfit to breathe. What to do about this? Being part of the problem, how can I help change the course? Clearly it isn't about the noise. My husband takes our garbage to the dump, but we have our leaves blown, enjoy the swept walkways, and purchase food transported to the supermarket. And then, on top of all that, when I fly to Italy in two weeks so I can wander about it my own silence, solitude and simplicity, I will be depending on all that jet fuel, and more, to get me there. I feel helpless. The best I can do is hang out the laundry. Pleasure (and other) reading at the CBTS this year. An * indicates audio books that entertained me on my round trip drives from home to cottage. * Allende, Isabelle. Daughter of Fortune. Anderson, Joan. The Second Journey: The Road Back to Yourself. Carrisi, Donato. The Lost Girls of Rome. Ensler, Eve. In the Body of the World. Dreher, Rod. The Little Ways of Ruthie Lemis. Ferrante, Elena. My Brilliant Friend. Ferrante, Elena. The Story of a New Name. Fiorato, Marina. The Botticelli Secret. France, Peter. Hermits. Gallagher, Jeffrey M. Wilderness Blessing. Gilbert, Elizabeth. The Signature of All Things. Gordkova. A Mountain of Crumbs. Grodstein, Lauren. The Exploration for Everything. Grollner, Adam Leith. The Book of Immortality. Hanion, Jeannette. The All of It. Hood, Ann. The Knitting Circle. * Hood, Ann. The Obituary Writer. Hossein, Khaled. And the Mountains Echoed. Kerman, Piper. Orange is the New Black. Kidd, Sue Monk & Ann Kidd Taylor. Traveling with Pomegranates. Kline, Christina Baker. Orphan Train. Kopp, Heather. Sober Moments: A Memoire. Lamb, Wally. We are Water. * Merton, Thomas. The Seven Story Mountain. Moriarty, Liane. The Husband’s Secret. McDonnel, Jane Taylor. Living to Tell the Tale: A Guide to Memoir Writing. McKinlay, Deborah. That Part Was True. Moyes, Jojo. The Girl You Left Behind. Moyes, Jojo. Me Before You. * Nuland, Sherwin B. The Art of Aging. Phillips, Jayne Anne. Quiet Dell. Russo, Richard. Elsewhere: A Memoir. Sotomayor, Sonia. My Beloved World. St. Germain, Justin. Sun of a Gun. Stedman, M.L.. The Light Between the Oceans. * Strayed, Cheryl. Wild: From Lost to Found on the PCT. Welch, Evelyn. Art and Society in Italy 1350-1500. It is hard to pick favorites but the following stand out: My Beloved World by Sonia Sotomayor. My Brilliant Friend and The Story of a New Name, by Elena Ferrante Wilderness Blessing, by Jeff Gallagher I have left the cottage; no final week as anticipated. The owner needed to return home and so I have enjoyed my final sunrise, cleaned, packed up, walked the beach, and pulled out of the driveway. Now here I am happily at home. Actually, I’m content wherever I am living at the moment—home, the cottage, travel destinations. I notice, however, that I need variety, a change of pace, a change of venue. And so, I am home for two weeks and then off to Florence for two. I’ll be writing. While home, my plan is to go to the library each morning to work on “Very Grateful”, the memoir about my mom. In Florence, as I sit overlooking Brunelleschi’s dome and sipping an early morning cappuccino at the Biblioteca dele Oblate café, my writing will shift to memories of my solitary trips to Florence (and Italy). I’m thinking that the title of that one should include both grateful and Il Duomo. I’ll see how it goes. No April Fools' Day yesterday for me up here at the cottage. The weather forecast was honest all day; blue sky, 40 degrees, vibrant breeze. Next week is my last week here. For everything there is a season. My vacuum cleaner is already here, but I’m not going to use it until next week. How easy it would be to start cleaning. But why begin now? Why spend two weeks anticipating my parting, when all I need is two days? A day to clean and a morning to change the bed before departing. This has to do with living in the present moment, about how I want to spend my time. I hate cleaning, so why would I ever draw out the process? Being an ADHD kind of person, one day will do it. |
Contact me: bobbifisher.mac@mac.com
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