Sto Ancora Imparando

In Florence, you can climb 414 stairs to the top of Campanile di Giotto (Giotto’s Bell Tower). I did just that in the summer of 2023. You might be wondering why the hell anyone would choose to traverse 414 steps through an extremely narrow pathway, with throngs of other sweaty tourists. I know I certainly was when I almost had a panic attack around step 150 or so.

Thankfully, it’s not my first time at the panic attack rodeo, and I’m equipped with a toolbox of coping mechanisms. After utilizing one of those coping tools, I made it to the top of Giotto’s Bell Tower, and I can tell you now that I know why people do that to themselves. It’s the same reason, I suppose, that people hike miles in inclement weather or run marathons.

My Why

And, of course, the why is different for each of us, but I’d venture to say the one common thing of all seemingly unenjoyable quests is the healing that comes after. I’m not talking about “All is well now healing,” either. That’s impractical.

I’m talking about the minute, the subtle pieces of us that are healed with each accomplishment, each extraordinary view like the one I was met with at the top of those 414 steps. I’m talking about the healing we can’t always see happening with each random encounter and each new perspective. Each part of us that heals culminates in the profundity, growth, and strengthening of our resilience.

It’s challenging to put into words the draws I’ve felt throughout my life. Some may call it the third eye, intuition, inner knowing, or the voice of the “Wild Woman.” It doesn’t matter what you call it, so long as you know it exists. I knew it existed from a very young age, when its power was more difficult to harness. My why is the draw. In just 48 hours, I knew Florence and the surrounding region were calling to me. Stay, come back, and stay.

Now, I know it sounds hokey, unless you’ve ever experienced this type of calling. Standing atop the bell tower, I peered, squinty-eyed from the afternoon sun, at the seamless blend of Renaissance and modern architecture. Brunelleschi’s dome commanded attention, as terracotta roofs and Tuscan hills took up permanent real estate in my mind. I heard music, bell tolls, and it breathed history and life, while simultaneously healing a little something inside me that day. Rather, it began healing something in me, because doing the same thing this past Saturday, from a different vantage point, nudged the needle even further.

Piazzale Michelangelo

Piazzale Michelangelo is the spot to go if you want a fabulous sunset in Firenze. This means it’ll be crowded. My anxiety naturally protests. I soon found myself at a wine bar, sipping a Tuscan merlot and enjoying some tiramisu after an afternoon of wandering.

I told the waitress, “Sto ancora imparando la lingua” (I’m still learning the language) before ordering in Italian. To that, she replied, “Brava!” Those two syllables made me beam. I felt proud. I should be proud.

While people-watching, I realized I was only 0.2 miles from the popular Piazzale Michelangelo. I made the short, albeit uphill trek. And man, am I glad I did. Three-hundred-sixty-degree views of sunset splendor atop those same terracotta roofs, cradled by autumn foliage and colors that seemed to know they were the show. I felt it. The calling. The healing. I was right where I was supposed to be, and thankfully, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

While it was crowded, it was crowded in a Florence-Italy-in-the-off-season type of way.” It wasn’t crowded in a shopping-at-The-Grove-in-LA-during-the-holidays type of way. My anxiety was grateful. Not to mention, the area had so much to offer aside from the views of this spectacular città italiana.

There were rose gardens (still in bloom), greenhouses, verdant walking trails, park benches for relaxation, and vendors catering to the crowds. Fancy a mini bottle of Chianti with your sunset views? Check. Maybe a fancy silk scarf? There’s even a replica of Michelangelo’s David in the center of the Piazzale, you know, in case you haven’t made it to the Accademia Gallery yet.

Learning to accept aspects of life that require significant effort (i.e., loss) is one of those paths that lead to profound evolution.

The Road Linds Travels Tweet

The Dreamers and The Doers

Every time I cross the Ponte Santa Trinità, the Ponte Vecchio, the Ponte alle Grazie, the Ponte Amerigo Vespucci, or the Ponte alla Carraia, and I look south along the Arno River, I am compelled to stop, admire, and take it all in. No matter how many times I have seen this landscape, it always stops me in my tracks.

I wonder if this beauty still moves people who have lived here all their lives? This is their backyard after all! Somehow, I doubt it’s taken for granted. I imagine the centuries of individuals who have walked in these exact steps, witnessed much of the same beauty I have, and then took their last breath feeling richer for having traveled these cobblestone streets.

Firenze makes one a poet even if he’s never picked up a pen. It makes them painters if only in their heads. It makes us architects of our paths. Firenze makes us all dreamers and doers.

One Full Week of Living in Firenze

It has officially been one whole week of living in Italy. Two separate individuals have asked me two separate questions. I found these questions to be valid and incredibly insightful. I didn’t have to contemplate them before delivering immediate answers.

Q&A – Not To Be Confused with FAQs

The first question was, “Have you gotten lonely?” Answer: Not yet.

And I very likely may not get lonely. I always tell people there’s a vast difference between being alone and being lonely. While I’m alone a lot, I like my company. In fact, I find being alone often preferable.

The second question was about living in Italy, “How do you like it? Answer: I love it.

While it’s only been a week, I could very well get used to this slower-paced way of life. It has so swiftly interrupted any stagnant routines that were no longer serving my soul. I’ve, without much effort, naturally slowed down. “Dolce far niente” feels closer than ever before.

Parting Reflections

I realize this post was kind of all over the place, and there’s much that I’m leaving out. I simply don’t have the words yet for what has been happening to me as of late. This past year, I’ve been met with a lot of loss and left with many questions that may never be answered.

I’ve used the phrase, “Sto ancora imparando,” many times this past week. I also couldn’t think of a better way to conclude la settimana than with therapy. As I divulged the week’s events in detail to my therapist, she held onto those words, “I’m still learning.” At first, I thought of it as a sort of “crutch,” until I realized it’s a state of mind. My therapist brought this deeper meaning to my attention.

As long as we strive to continue to learn about ourselves, about the world around us, language, and culture – as long as we are still learning, there will always be growth. There will always be forward movement. Learning to accept aspects of life that require significant effort (i.e., loss) is one of those paths that lead to profound evolution. And I have a feeling Italy will be of great support on that journey. It already is.

Linds

Los Angeles, California