One of the things that struck me like a bolt of lightning when I walked into my house after having been away from it for five weeks, was the amount of "stuff" we have. No, I am not a hoarder and no, I do not, in comparison to others, have all that much but, for me, this "stuff" is becoming a real problem.
The Italians, at least those who reside in Umbria, the region where Assisi is located, live uncluttered lives. For the most part, they are people who spend a lot of their time outside of their homes. The land is beautiful beyond words and they appreciate this and use their many resources. This is not an area where one finds a wide variety of foods but it is an area abundant in "local" products that are used in the best of ways. They live in accordance with the seasons, holistically. If chestnuts and new wine are in season, as they are right now, then that is what menus at home and outside will feature. Cheeses are produced from the cows and sheep who live to feed their owners. Pigs, rabbits and chickens are raised to be consumed, they are not "pets", yet they are fed well and live a hormone-antibiotic-free life. Turkeys, the few that there are, do not fall sideways from having been over-fed. Our turkey on Thanksgiving was raised in Tuscany, the neighboring region, and gave proof to the fact that less is so much better. Want to taste turkey, then eat some turkey, not a bird that is filled with chemicals.
And, an Umbrian sausage will not wilt and shrink during cooking because they have not been "plumpted" up with additives before they reach the market. Nor will they send you off seeking a glass of water because of salt content. A sausage is what it is and nothing can compare.
So, I am having a rough time with the part of coming home that overshadows the joy of being again in my own humble home. I am surrounded by things I love here. Art is the predominant theme. Art and cozy. Stuff. A new season that into which I am diving, head first. Christmas is a few short weeks away! Lots of stuff accompanies that reality. There's no way out. Trees, lights, greeting cards, holiday decor. I do it all. We love our home and we love our holidays. I just need to keep things in perspective, keep things simple, not get overwhelmed and not lose some of the magic that came from being in a totally different environment for weeks, one that supported my desire to rid myself of worldly problems and focus on my internal environment, where my real 'home' is. The real "stuff" in my life.
I've been busy since I arrived back on the Cape. My friends welcomed me and assured me that I am as integral a part of their lives as they are of mine. I was told that they didn't "do" very much because I was not here to "do" it, or that. What a nice mental note. I'm needed! I've told a few of them my stories and I'm sure that the story-telling will go on for a while more. I live for stories. They know that and expect nothing less. But of all the stories that I may tell, I have nothing greater to relate than the tale of a woman who left her stuff and went very far away to learn to slow down, live in the moment, and leave stuff. Each day on this journey was a year at a university. Each day was a voyage to another world, one in which time was only a reference point and I wasn't ever in a hurry to meet or beat a clock. As I learned months earlier, while on Camino, there is not need to rush, ever, because, in the end, the only person waiting to meet you is yourself.
Nice to be home. Nice to meet you waiting for me.
The Italians, at least those who reside in Umbria, the region where Assisi is located, live uncluttered lives. For the most part, they are people who spend a lot of their time outside of their homes. The land is beautiful beyond words and they appreciate this and use their many resources. This is not an area where one finds a wide variety of foods but it is an area abundant in "local" products that are used in the best of ways. They live in accordance with the seasons, holistically. If chestnuts and new wine are in season, as they are right now, then that is what menus at home and outside will feature. Cheeses are produced from the cows and sheep who live to feed their owners. Pigs, rabbits and chickens are raised to be consumed, they are not "pets", yet they are fed well and live a hormone-antibiotic-free life. Turkeys, the few that there are, do not fall sideways from having been over-fed. Our turkey on Thanksgiving was raised in Tuscany, the neighboring region, and gave proof to the fact that less is so much better. Want to taste turkey, then eat some turkey, not a bird that is filled with chemicals.
And, an Umbrian sausage will not wilt and shrink during cooking because they have not been "plumpted" up with additives before they reach the market. Nor will they send you off seeking a glass of water because of salt content. A sausage is what it is and nothing can compare.
So, I am having a rough time with the part of coming home that overshadows the joy of being again in my own humble home. I am surrounded by things I love here. Art is the predominant theme. Art and cozy. Stuff. A new season that into which I am diving, head first. Christmas is a few short weeks away! Lots of stuff accompanies that reality. There's no way out. Trees, lights, greeting cards, holiday decor. I do it all. We love our home and we love our holidays. I just need to keep things in perspective, keep things simple, not get overwhelmed and not lose some of the magic that came from being in a totally different environment for weeks, one that supported my desire to rid myself of worldly problems and focus on my internal environment, where my real 'home' is. The real "stuff" in my life.
I've been busy since I arrived back on the Cape. My friends welcomed me and assured me that I am as integral a part of their lives as they are of mine. I was told that they didn't "do" very much because I was not here to "do" it, or that. What a nice mental note. I'm needed! I've told a few of them my stories and I'm sure that the story-telling will go on for a while more. I live for stories. They know that and expect nothing less. But of all the stories that I may tell, I have nothing greater to relate than the tale of a woman who left her stuff and went very far away to learn to slow down, live in the moment, and leave stuff. Each day on this journey was a year at a university. Each day was a voyage to another world, one in which time was only a reference point and I wasn't ever in a hurry to meet or beat a clock. As I learned months earlier, while on Camino, there is not need to rush, ever, because, in the end, the only person waiting to meet you is yourself.
Nice to be home. Nice to meet you waiting for me.
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