Gemma in my lap and Gioia looking on.

As some of you know, we had a miracle happen here two weeks ago. Two miracles actually, and their names are Gemma and Gioia.

Our goat Pasqualina gave birth to these two lovelies, which you can read more about at Goat Berries; containing my excitement, happiness, and joy has been impossible — as evidenced by my plethora of postings of photos and videos. I even gave the goaties names that showed just how wonderful I found their arrivals to be:

Gemma (JEM-mah) means jewel, and Gioia (JOY-ah) means joy.

Did you know that outwardly expressing so much happiness is actually a huge faux pas in Calabria?

Yup, it is, because when you show too much happiness, you invite feelings of invidia or envy . . . and that means malocchio can’t be too far behind. The Evil Eye, as legend goes, can bring about not only physical symptoms including headache and malaise but also good old-fashioned bad luck — especially jinxing whatever it is you’re so happy about.

So around here, many native Calabrians will play down anything good in their lives, avoiding what I suppose could be seen in the worst light as bragging but what many of us would just consider, you know, being happy, knowing it, and showing it.

[Why do I feel the sudden urge to clap my hands?!]

As faithful readers know, I love so many parts of this southern Italian culture, but this is one I just can’t get with. In fact, I actively refuse to.

Look at these baby goats for goodness’ sake! How could I possibly pretend that I don’t smile from ear to ear every single time I even think of them let alone watch them bouncing around, off walls, off their mother, and off whatever else gets in their way.

Life is good, folks, and when life is particularly good, I, for one, am not going to live in fear that others may have some kind of special control over what happens if I open the door to their envy just by showing some happiness.

Beyond that, I also refuse to hold back my joy in anticipation of the other shoe dropping or live under the belief that something must inevitably go wrong if something has gone right.

I choose to revel in any and all joy that comes my way, in that moment, unapologetically and without fear.

Luna watching over Gemma.

Has anyone ever told you not get your hopes up about something? Right up there with the worst advice ever IMHO. The idea is that if you refrain from feeling “too” happy or excited or hopeful, your eventual disappointment (and believe you them, it’s coming!) will be somehow lessened because you refrained from being “overly” happy in the first place.

Please.

Yes, you’re going to be disappointed if something goes wrong or doesn’t come through the way you expected or hoped it would — and that’s always a possibility since nothing is guaranteed in life. It may even hurt like hell if you wanted it enough.

Questa è la vita.

But is your disappointment really lessened if you held back your happiness? I don’t think so.

The only thing you’ve done is robbed yourself of experiencing that glorious high, that wonderful feeling of *JOY* you were too afraid to simply drink in, feel, appreciate, and honor in the moment, mindful of the opportunity you have been gifted.

Allowing yourself to feel joy in the moment is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself.

I don’t know about you, but I will not deprive myself of deep, mood-lifting, soul-enriching joy in the quest of fooling myself into thinking that by doing so I’m somehow protecting myself from the bad things in the world (which, we all know you can’t do no matter how hard you try) or sparing myself the hurt I’ll feel if/when they happen.

Instead, I will continue to allow myself to feel the height of happiness and joy in each and every moment it’s offered to me — and, apparently, keep inviting malocchio till the goats come home.

Speaking of which, I have some kids to check on.

Do you allow yourself to experience joy in the moment?

Telephone by Esparta on Flickr (CC license)

What’s that? The phone ringing? The call that’s going to change your life?!

Eh. Probably not.

Don’t get me wrong: you may actually receive a life-changing phone call (or its symbolic equivalent), but I love what comedian and actor Jay Mohr had to say about when that phone call arrives on a recent Mohr Stories podcast.

He said you don’t want to be sitting there just waiting for that phone to ring –

You want to have to reach behind you to answer it.

That is, you need to keep moving forward, keep yourself busy, keep pursuing whatever it is you’re striving to achieve so that when that opportunity arrives, when that literal or figurative call comes, you’re so wrapped up in whatever you’ve been doing to push ahead that you actually have to stop and reach back to grab that phone.

I just love that image, don’t you?

It’s been plastered in the forefront of my mind ever since I listened to that podcast a couple weeks ago, thinking of it whenever my motivation sags, which it does with some frequency.

And that image is also why I’m ending this post right here. Of course I have a lot more to say on this; in fact, a whole bunch of it is in another draft. But you know what? You don’t need to read it.

You already know what you have to do.

What are you waiting for?

Closed door waiting to be opened

I’m a lawyer by training and a writer by nature. Being able to pinpoint the perfect word has been a talent of mine dating at least back to my high school creative writing days when my teacher praised my “dime-sized portion” of shampoo I used to wash my dog and the squirrels “scurrying” away from danger. And it’s one I’ve worked hard on honing over the years.

But then on the plane ride over the Atlantic, in just about eight or so hours, I lost all ability to express myself in even the most basic situations, not to mention my sense of humor—or at least the sense of humor that used to make sense to everyone around me. Gone were the word plays and subtle meanings behind jokes and the talent for diffusing tense situations with a wisecrack.

In other words, I lost a huge part of what I thought was my identity.

But I wasn’t willing to let it go easily. So when I found myself getting a little too comfortable with basic words but still not really feeling part of things, I knew it was time to create a different Michelle here, one more aligned with the one I remembered from America.

Around that time Shelley of Un’Americana a Roma sent me a copy of L’Alchemista, the Italian translation of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. To that point I had never read an entire book in Italian.

And I knew it was time.

When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. — Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

I love this book not only for its message, but also because, even though I didn’t realize it at the time, reading it proved to me just how much I wanted to let Italy seep into me, become a part of me, namely through its beautiful, lyrical language and how much I wanted to be a part of it.

By that point, I was able to communicate well enough on a daily basis and was getting by with basic verbs and tenses, but I knew there was still so much I was missing, including parts of myself still hidden from those around me. I’d see many a moment go by where I could have said something witty if only my Italian were better, where I became so frustrated trying to get a point across, I just gave up.

It was gut check time.

How bad did I want this life I said I wanted?

Enough to sit down every night with L’Alchemista for I don’t know how many weeks, make notes of the words I didn’t know, look them up and add them to my vocabulary list. Study them. Try to use them in everyday conversation. And then move on to another book—this time one in its original language by an Italian author. Io Non Ho Paura by Niccolò Ammaniti if you’re interested. Highly recommended.

Lest you think this all happened within the first few months I moved here, let me be clear—this was *years* in the making.

It wasn’t until after I met Paolo (which was a year and a half after I arrived) and truly began throwing myself into colloquial conversations that I even considered reading an entire book in Italian. And I opened and closed quite a few before L’Alchemista came along. But when Coelho’s book showed up in my hands, I knew it was time to push forward.

The right book at the right time snapped everything into focus for me, and there was nothing like the feeling of turning that final page and knowing I had done it, finished a book in Italian, and, more importantly, I was on my way to reclaiming myself in this foreign land.

*

No matter the goal you’re pursuing, there will be times when things look bleak, when circumstances and maybe even people seem to be (or actually are) working against you–and the obstacles will likely be much greater than a measly language barrier. They may be physical, mental, emotional, and all of the above. You may hurt, wonder why you’re doing what you’re doing, get angry, get frustrated, cry. But you won’t give up. Because that is gut check time.

Time to reach deep inside, grab who you know you truly are, pull out every bit of your drive and determination, and push forward.

You already know that nothing worth having or achieving comes easily, but how bad do you want whatever it is you say you want? What are you willing to do to make it happen? Are you willing to take risks, make sacrifices, look like a fool, make laughable mistakes that will actually serve as valuable learning experiences?

Are you willing to trust your own instincts, follow your truth, and most of all, reach inside, pull out your very core, everything that makes you who you are, and put it all out there on the line?

Are you ready for gut check time?

Some of you may already know of Gemelli Press as I’ve reviewed a few of the company’s books (Beyond the Pasta, Pieces of Someday, and Impariamo l’Italiano con l’Aiuto della Mano), but in case you don’t, Gemelli Press is a boutique publishing company founded in Seattle in 2007 by Kari Hock, who lived in Sicily and fell in love with the bel paese. The company gets its name from Kari’s adorable twin boys — “gemelli” is twins in Italian.

Gemelli Press focuses on Italy-themed fiction and nonfiction, combining twin passions for books and Italy, carefully selecting titles that will inspire readers to learn more about Italian culture, cuisine, wine, travel, and lifestyle.

On the last day of 2011, Kari asked me to join her. I thought about it for about five seconds before I jumped at the opportunity.

My love of books has fueled a desire to work in publishing for as long as I can remember. In college while pursuing an English degree, my graduation plans included finding an entry-level position at a New York City publishing house — but at that time, law school seemed the safer, smarter choice. Or at least the one more expected of me.

So my publishing house dreams fell by the wayside. I considered jumping in again after law school, this time into legal publishing, but I wanted to at least work in the law for a couple years first, which I did as an appellate law clerk. During my first summer at that job, I took a trip to Italy. As you may recall, I fell in love with this village on that vacation and moved here a year later. At that point, I stopped thinking of publishing altogether. Logistically, I just didn’t see how it was possible.

But I stayed involved in the book world the only way I knew how — by continuing to read and later, by publishing book reviews here at my site . . . book reviews that almost got the ax. Some of you may remember when a few years ago, I asked for feedback on the parts of the site. The resounding answer was to drop the book reviews. But I love books, and I especially love sharing books I enjoy. Besides that, I figured, hey, this is the space I created to pursue my passions. Book reviews were here to stay.

And so they did. And that’s how Kari and Gemelli Press found me — initially as a reviewer, then as an editor, and now as a partner.

Mai dire mai, as we say in Italy. Never say never.

Along with sharing editorial decisions with Kari, I’m now handling Gemelli Press’s PR, marketing, social media, and web development . . . and speaking of which — the lack of posts you’ve seen around here lately? I’ve been busy working on our brand spanking new website at GemelliPress.com:

Please feel free to “like” us at the Gemelli Press Facebook page and follow on Twitter @gemellipress as well!

And while I have your attention: we have a new book that many of you will love — fate and destiny mixed with delicious gourmet food and wine. Tempting? It’s called Among the Cloud Dwellers by Giuliana Sica and you can read more about it at the Gemelli Press site. Both paperback and Kindle versions are available (though remember, you don’t need a Kindle to read Kindle versions)!

Another new release to look out for, available for pre-order now, is Wrestling With The Devil by Tonya Hamilton Russo and Tony Russo, the true story of a ten-year-old boy who traveled from Naples to NYC by ship, by himself in the 1950s and ended up becoming one of the finest high school wrestling coaches in the country. You *will* get hungry reading that one too, especially for a nice ragù. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

So that’s what’s been going on around here, aside from my darling pregnant goat who scared me with a hugely swollen jaw, our annual pig slaughter that resulted in 100 kilos of pork on my kitchen table, and my having written more than 20,000 words in my work-in-progress novel. Whee! Up, up, up!

How is your 2012 going so far?

Pasta with cauliflower

Way back when I started this blog, I posted recipes every week in a series called What’s Cooking Wednesday.

I started out wanting to record the recipes I make all the time, many of which come from my family — my grandmother’s meatballs and Italian wedding soup, my mom’s chocolate cake and apple pie, and even our neighbor Louise’s banana cake. I expanded into including some of P’s mom’s recipes, true Calabrian treasures, like her chicory and cannellini beans and spicy sausage with fava beans.

But a true food blogger I was never going to be since I’m not really into trying all kinds of recipes with this sauce or that special ingredient (which is likely impossible for me to find in rural southern Italy anyway). Probably 90% of the recipes on this site are ones I make with exceptional regularity when the ingredients are in-season. Yes, some desserts can get a bit complicated in preparation and have longer ingredient lists, but most of my go-to, everyday recipes stick to the concepts of simple and fresh.

Along with many other aspects of my life over the past eight and a half years, cooking has become an exercise in simplicity.

Through adapting to seasonal eating and learning the ins and outs of all the locally available ingredients, I have also developed a feel for what goes together as well as what both P and I will like. While we tend to stick to the basics, I’m never bored with our meals since there is such a wide array of fresh produce around no matter the season — plus I’ve noticed that just about the time I start craving artichokes, they seem to magically come into season. Or I’ve planned ahead and frozen plenty anyway.

I still get in some experimenting, albeit within stricter confines that I would have had in the United States, and that is what happened this past fall with cauliflower.

Before moving here, I had only ever eaten cauliflower smothered in cheese sauce. I liked it, of course; smother anything in cheese sauce and chances are good that I’ll like it. But I knew that dish wasn’t going to fly here, and quite honestly I didn’t really want to eat it anyway. I’ve made cavolfiori al forno, which is delicious, but I was hoping for a main dish, i.e., with pasta.

So I thought about cauliflower in terms of its kissing cousin, broccoli, and treated it in a similar manner. P had never had cauliflower with pasta (his mom doesn’t like vegetables with pasta, so she doesn’t make them that way), but he was willing to give it a go. This dish has been a staple in our house all winter, and I hope you’ll enjoy it too.

Pasta with cauliflower is so fast and easy to make, and you can still taste every single ingredient in the final product. Simple, fresh, delicious. Perfect.

Pasta with Cauliflower
Pasta con cavolfiori

Pasta con cavolfiori

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 small cloves garlic, each cut in half
• Peperoncino to taste
• Salted water
• Head of cauliflower
• Penne or other short pasta
• Bread crumbs & parmigiano (optional)

1. Clean cauliflower and cut into individual florets. A head of cauliflower can be quite big, so portion it out for as many people as will be eating. You can parboil all of it and save some for later or even freeze the rest once it’s cooled. Alternately, simply clean a part of it and save the rest for another day (making sure to keep as much of the bottom part of the head on as possible). Parboil florets in boiling salted water until al dente.

2. Remove cauliflower from water with slotted spoon and set aside. Taste the water at this point to make sure it’s salty enough for the pasta — you want it to taste roughly like sea/ocean water. Bring it back to a boil and add pasta.

3. In the meantime, heat olive oil in pan and saute garlic and peperoncino over medium heat, but don’t let either brown. Note if you’re making a lot of cauliflower, you should adjust measurements for olive oil and garlic.

4. Add cauliflower to pan and toss well. Add a large ladle-full of the pasta water as well and let cauliflower soak in the flavors for several minutes. If the mixture is getting dry, add some more pasta water. Taste cauliflower and if pasta isn’t done yet, turn off heat and cover when cauliflower is to your desired taste.

5. As an optional step, at this point you can toast some bread crumbs in a pan. As you can see from the photos, I used seasoned bread crumbs, which came with parsley and garlic salt in them.

6. When the pasta is ready, make sure the pan with the cauliflower is on low heat and then add pasta and toss well.

7. If you are adding toasted breadcrumbs, do so just before serving. Serve also with the option of shaved parmigiano.

Buon appetito!

What’s your favorite cauliflower dish?

Peperoncini & clothespins

One of the most prevalent superstitions in southern Italy (and in a lot of Mediterranean cultures), is the Evil Eye. Here it’s called “malocchio” and its roots are in envy, i.e., someone feels envious of another person, even without a malicious intent behind it, thereby bringing bad luck upon the person being envied. I’ve previously written about the Italian-American equivalent of being overlooked.

Malocchio can manifest itself in the victim physically via headache and/or general malaise or it may bring about acts of misfortune — such as what happened to P last winter when our chainsaw died literally moments after someone walked past our campagna, giving it a good once-over, which in southern Italy is pretty much the telltale sign of invidia. Ahem.

Envy, of course, is a completely natural emotion, and if you happen to believe in the Seven Deadly Sins business, well you know it’s one of the biggies. But why? What’s so horrible about envy?

Aside from it just not being very nice to covet your neighbor’s job, success, wife, husband, family life, whatever, there can be very personal effects turned inward as well.

Envy can prevent us from working on ourselves and our own goals.

We can become so fixated on what someone else does or has (or seems to do or have) that we neglect the importance of working on improving ourselves and our own situations. Or it can simply plant seeds of doubt that we’re not good enough, not smart enough, and doggone no one likes us (thank you, Stuart Smalley).

In its most malicious form, envy can even lead someone to try to destroy another’s happiness — but that extreme isn’t what happens with most of us.

And yes, I say us. I’m certainly not immune to the occasional pang of the Green Monster. For me, it rarely if ever involves friends, but perhaps a blogger I don’t know or particularly enjoy — how the hell did *she* score a book deal? Things of that nature.

Several years ago when I began reading about various religions in earnest, I was immediately drawn to the Buddhist concept of acknowledging feelings and letting them pass. It spoke deeply to my heart, but I didn’t know whether I could actually do it. Turns out, I could.

I simply had to decide to acknowledge feelings and then let them pass.

If that sounds too easy to you, believe me, I’ve been there. But it really is a choice, and I believe that anyone who is committed to following through with this concept can put it into practice. Indeed, I’ve noticed that with time, the feelings are floating on by even faster and with increasingly less effort on my part. Most of the time anyway. We all have room to grow.

This release of negative emotions has become a vital component of my mental health. There’s much more to this concept for the serious student of Buddhism, of course, but for me, this one little aspect has been a game changer.

Pick a lane

But what do we gain by choosing to let envious feelings pass us on by? This is the best part. As a reward of letting go of envy, we receive the gifts of more time and increased focus to keep our eyes on our own prizes, stay in our own lanes, and not worry so much about what other people are doing and achieving. We no longer feel the urge or need to compare what is happening in our lives with what someone else is experiencing.

We each have our own unique paths, and that’s exactly as it should be.

Besides, keeping up with the Joneses is *so* 20th century.

This is not to say we should isolate ourselves from our friends’ and colleagues’ successes and happiness, though — quite the contrary! I find nothing more inspiring and heartwarming than seeing a friend realize a dream like having a screenplay become a feature Hollywood film, selling her own gorgeous handmade pottery, or becoming a mother.

Success and happiness come in infinite quantities — there’s no reason to believe someone else is taking your share.

Truly appreciating others’ success and happiness — but not coveting it — opens up your own path to personal and professional growth and fulfillment on your terms, and not on anyone else’s. What could be better than that?

As for malocchio, well, since we’re not all going to suddenly live without envy, there *are* a few precautions you can take to combat any envious feelings coming your way. In southern Italian fashion, you can sprinkle some salt around your house now and again, wear red, pepper your place with hanging peperoncino, the symbol that protects against the Evil Eye, and also make the horns (le corna) sign with your hand if and when you think someone is envying a bit too much.

Or you can always try my preferred method, killing the envy with kindness — though I still remind P to make the sign of the horns too. Just in case.

Do you have any envy/malocchio stories to share?

What are your tips for staying focused on your own goals and not comparing your achievements to those of others?

For those who don’t want to watch the first two minutes and fifty or so seconds of the video, let me sum it up:

Will Smith’s character (who later becomes Agent J) is in a room with other candidates so the Powers-That-Be can find “the best of the best of the best.” The candidates are all men from either military academies or the NYPD and squeezed into pod-like chairs that barely contain their bodies; they are each given an exam booklet and a pencil. As they scrunch up in their pods, twisting, wiggling, and crossing and uncrossing legs to find comfortable positions for holding the booklet and writing at the same time, Smith’s character stops, looks in front of him, and sees a table.

SCREEEEEEECH! The otherwise silent, sterile room is filled with a deafening squeal as Smith drags the heavy metal table across the floor toward him. The other candidates shoot him, as my mom would say, hairy eyeballs.

But Soon-To-Be-Agent J has already passed the test.

He thought outside the proverbial box and instead of following what everyone else was doing, he wasn’t afraid to literally make some noise and do something that got him to his goal.

*

Now if you’re rolling your eyes at the phrase “thinking outside the box,” I empathize. It has become trite and jargony, and in fact when I was in law school, it had an honored place on the cliché list, which includes but is not limited to (yes, there’s another!) “seeing the forest for the trees” and “learning to think like a lawyer.”

But stripped down to its core, “thinking outside the box” says in four words what I believe to be the key to success in just about any venture as well as general happiness in life. To me, thinking outside the box means not blindly following conventional wisdom and what has already been done as well as challenging assumptions about yourself, others, and the world around you.

When you think outside the box, you’re following your instincts as to what should be done, your own “right way,” and oftentimes, what you need to feel balanced and whole.

Then why do so many people encourage (or implore) you to color inside the lines, follow the rules, and stay inside the damn box? Well they’re either inside the box themselves and not sure how/afraid to get out, or even worse — they’re actually selling the box.

Look, I love plans of attack and guidelines and goals and milestones and all that stuff, and yes, in some areas of life there are definite paths that must be followed to reach a specific destination — you’re not going to become a doctor without going to college, taking the MCAT, going to med school, passing your boards, doing your residency, etc.

But overall, never underestimate the value of thinking outside the box, figuring out your own way to get from Point A to Point B, and trusting your instincts along the way. Heck, maybe you don’t even have a Point B in mind yet. No problem! Think of your current lack of a Point B as already being outside the box in this goal- and results-driven world. I’m not sure people like Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg ever knew there even was a box.

And look, while thinking outside the box can certainly be about sitting down to solve or approach specific problems, it doesn’t have to be. In fact, I like to think of it more as a way of life.

Keep your mind and heart open for opportunities that interest you, make you feel alive, and simply make you happy.

And that’s even if what arises isn’t something you’re “supposed to be” interested in or what everyone else is doing or reading or writing or whatever. Maybe you’re just looking at something from a new angle or perspective, figuratively or literally. Maybe it’s moving your writing desk from one end of the room to the other, or grabbing your notebook and a pen and heading out for a long walk.

Some more great, relatively easy ways to maneuver outside the box include the following:

Reading books outside your usual genres.

Taking a class in a subject outside your comfort zone.

Opening your mind to other religions and types of spirituality.

Starting up an exercise regime with an activity you’ve wanted to explore.

Gathering with at least two other people to brainstorm thoughts, ideas, solutions, etc.

Be forewarned, however: Sometimes when you operate outside the box, people look at you funny, make not-so-nice comments about you and your actions, and maybe even tell you you’re crazy for doing what you’re doing because, oh, I don’t know, you’re not making any money at it or you’ll never get anything out of it anyway or you’re too old or you’re too young or you’re not being serious enough to really achieve anything, so what’s the point?

Well that’s just the thing and the most beautiful part of living outside the box, even from time to time. Sometimes we don’t immediately know “the point” when we venture outside the box.

Sometimes a small spark of interest ends up turning into a passion and perhaps then into a career. Or maybe your life becomes enriched with a lifelong love of a new author, subject, or activity. Or maybe you develop amazing new friendships that remain long after that particular dalliance outside the box is over. Or maybe your time out of the box is special just because it was time out of the box, and there really is no point besides that.

That’s what’s so cool about thinking outside the box and doing your own thing — you just never know where it can lead.

And besides that, there’s nothing more stifling and frustrating than feeling boxed in, and that’s because we’re not honoring that part of ourselves that wants, that needs so desperately to get out. So what I’m really saying, I suppose, is this:

Live outside the box as much as possible. That’s where awesome happens.

Have you thought outside the box lately?

What are some other ways of getting out of your comfort zone to enhance personal and/or professional growth?

Up by gothick_matt on Flickr via CC license

So here we are in 2012.

As you may or may not know, I lost one of my beloved goats on December 19th. I’m still recovering, slowly but surely, trying to remember all the good times and not feel guilty for not being able to save my Pinters. There were also some other disappointments and delusioni toward the end of the year as well, and all together, they’ve put me in a rather down mood — exactly where I hate being around Christmas, which I normally love so much.

I’m beyond grateful for all the love and support so many of you have shown — including sending surprise gifts in the mail — but time marches on. It’s time to look forward.

Once again I have decided to choose a one-word theme for 2012, just as I did last year when the word was “now.” NOW pushed me through plenty of difficult times when my instinct was to focus on anything but “now”; simply repeating that three-letter word in my mind truly aided my quest to be more mindful and live in the moment, appreciating each and every experience, even the challenging times.

In fact, I will tuck that word into my mind as my back-up one-word theme, because I know I still need to focus on the “now” in 2012. But it’s a new year, and that means it’s time for a new word.

When I started brainstorming a couple weeks ago, one word popped into my mind immediately. But was it good enough? Did it really say enough? Was it *really* what I wanted my 2012 to revolve around?

The more I thought about other words — focus, shine, do, and joy among them — the more I kept coming back to that first word. The one that has invaded my consciousness, particularly since I’ve been feeling so DOWN the past couple weeks.

That word is UP.

The ultimate optimistic word, UP will guide me through this year’s challenges and opportunities.

Looking UP and thinking positively.

Keeping UP positive changes I’ve made.

Giving UP old habits that don’t serve me well.

Finishing UP lingering projects and moving forward.

Movin’ on UP (figuratively) à la The Jeffersons‘ theme song.

About six hours after I decided on UP, I opened an email that has already massively changed my direction for 2012 — a professional opportunity that involves a partnership and my entering into a field I’ve wanted to explore since, well, forever. Cannot wait to get started. Stay tuned for deets!

On January 23, we’ll also be entering the Year of the Dragon — and I’m a dragon, born in 1976. I had been envisioning the hot air balloon as my symbol of the year — UP, UP, and away! — but this morning while lying in bed, I realized just how appropriate that is. Every hot air balloon needs a heat source to keep it UP in the air.

Enter my fire-breathing dragon.

Image by Beverly & Pack on Flickr via CC license

I’m already feeling like things are looking UP, like I’m ready to meet 2012 head-on and move onward and UPward to new, never-before-experienced-by-me heights.

What’s your one-word theme for 2012?

So why has my Facebook feed been flooded with posts by friends and family stressed out about Christmas since November?

*

Before I moved to Italy, I imagined Christmas here to be spectacular. And it is, but not in a grand, overdone way — at least as I have seen it celebrated.

Here in the depths of southern Italy, Christmas is traditionally a quiet day spent with family, eating (and eating) and talking and playing silly games like Tombola (Bingo). Some people seem to celebrate Christmas Eve, mostly by going out and visiting with others, but the big difference I’ve experienced is that things just seem calmer here than my Christmastimes in America.

Here, throughout December, I’ve always had the time to reflect on the past year, plan for the year ahead, and simply appreciate the quiet and calm of the season.

Please remember that I can only speak from my personal experience, and other experiences throughout Italy may, and I’m sure do, vary, but in my area, we just don’t have a grand parade that brings Santa Claus to town in November. We do have zampogne for Christmas day, though.

Peace / Pace

Here, there doesn’t seem to be a gazillion Christmas parties one feels obligated to attend, a thousand cookies that need to be baked, and, at least in our house but I suspect many others, no huge pressure for each person to have an enormous pile of gifts under the tree, which I think might be why when I was out and about on Christmas Eve a several years ago, it didn’t feel much different than being out and about on a usual Saturday in the wintertime — except prettier.

Yes, towns and cities put up festive lights and many churches have amazing presepi, so there’s definitely a feeling of Christmas in the air, but it’s just . . . different.

And I love it.

I didn’t always love it, though. My first few years here, I longed for Christmases past with my whole family tucked into my grandmother’s cozy kitchen eating and drinking an incredible variety of foods and beverages — Italian, Polish/Lithuanian, American — after Christmas Eve Mass.

And I still do miss that, but two years ago, I was in the States for Christmas, and I realized my nostalgia is for something that doesn’t truly exist anymore. As much as I enjoyed spending time with my family, Christmas just isn’t the same with my grandparents and some other relatives and family friends gone. And besides that, I’m not the same person either.

As Thomas Wolfe so astutely wrote, “You can’t go home again.”

So I’m learning to appreciate and respect those memories while moving forward with our own, mine and Paolo’s. Here. I’ve incorporated some of my family’s traditions like seafood on Christmas Eve (everyone thinks of the Feast of the Seven Fishes as so traditionally southern Italian, and it is, but Paolo’s family doesn’t do it at all) and instituted some others — it’s all part of going with the flow of being in a new situation, in a new country, but it’s more than that.

It’s a mindset we can all adopt at any time in our lives no matter where we live:

Stop and think about what you’re doing. Leave behind what doesn’t work for you and cultivate what does.

Sure, if flying to the States every year were financially and otherwise logistically possible, I might be more inclined to skip the tree here, buy gifts for those in the States, and jump on a plane. But that’s not our reality. We have lots of animals, and finding someone to care for dogs, goats, chickens, etc. in a place with no kennels isn’t easy to say the least. And I hardly want to leave Paolo alone at Christmas. He loves this time of year too, though celebrations as a child weren’t nearly as memorable for him as they were for me for a variety of reasons.

Indeed, that’s exactly why I like to think part of my gift to him every year is making this season a fun, special time for him, for both of us, creating a special atmosphere — and none of that is about presents. We rarely exchange gifts.

The Christmas spirit is about the atmosphere of love, peace, and calmness.

I don’t go overboard with decorations, but I do up our little tree and the stair railing (taking me back to when I was in charge of doing the staircase in my grandmother’s house); Paolo takes care of the fire in the stufa (when necessary — it’s not always cold enough to need it). Added bonus is that it gets dark so early this month that we get to enjoy the lights, fire, and cozy evenings that much more.

We carry on through December much as we do the rest of the year, dividing tasks, doing some projects, like making pizza, together, and having quiet times to ourselves as well — but the Christmas atmosphere somehow makes it all warmer and more comforting. For those who are religious, of course, there is a much deeper meaning to the season, but for us, it’s all quite simple.

And so, on a weekend in December, while Paolo is off chopping wood, you’ll find me either there with him in the campagna keeping myself busy writing, reading, or preparing my part of a meal (he’s in charge of grilling) or a casa, perhaps literally keeping the home fires burning, sometimes with the Christmas lights twinkling even during the day (one of my holiday-time splurges). I may be baking, cooking, making mandarin jam, crafting, doing laundry (electricity is cheaper on the weekends!), reading, or writing, but chances are good that for at least a few minutes, I’ll be cuddled up with a dog or two and simply soaking up the peace and quiet.

And this is what I wish for all of you this season:

The gift of being surrounded by those you love, whether they have two or four legs — and even if only in spirit.
Moments to reflect on and think about what is truly important about the holidays and year-round.
The knowledge that you are already doing enough, being enough, and simply are enough.
Peace within yourself and the desire to radiate that calm to those around you.
The ability to find joy in simple pleasures.

And taking a note from Diana Baur‘s book, I’m sending you much love, peace, and joy this Christmas and always from my hilltop in southern Italy.

Apple pies almost ready for baking

Last weekend it became clear I would not be receiving my package of cranberries and sweet potatoes in time to make an American Thanksgiving in Italy. For some, that may not seem a big deal, but Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and hands down the hardest day for me as an expat.

Read: Homesick City.

I love Thanksgiving because of its important components — family, food, and giving thanks, and when I can’t have my family nearby, well, the food I’ve been eating on this day for 30+ years becomes even more significant. And without the cranberries and sweet potatoes, well, it’s just not even worth having. Believe me, I’ve been here all but one Thanksgiving of the past nine, and not celebrating at all is better for my psyche than having a half-assed dinner.

So I had a meltdown. I wasn’t screaming or crying or anything, but I did need to vent — so I turned to Facebook. Say what you will about social networks, but for me, in times of disappointment and annoyance, they are truly a blessing. My friends rallied around my feelings with virtual hugs and many offers to send replacement supplies (a lovely thought to be sure, but the Italian postal service would never have delivered in time) and had me feeling better within a couple hours — not perfect and totally accepting of the lack of a traditional Thanksgiving this year, but pretty darn good.

And oh so grateful, not only for friends and Facebook, but also for all of the other wonderful people and things in my life.

During those conversations with friends, I came to an idea for how to celebrate Thanksgiving this year. Even though I express gratitude daily and don’t need a special day to do so, Thanksgiving still holds a unique place in my heart, so I’m going to acknowledge the day by enjoying all of my friends and family’s Thanksgiving photos and greetings and by making my mom’s apple pie, one of my favorite parts of the Thanksgiving meal.

The dough is chilling in the fridge as I type.

Big ole slice of apple pie

And we’ll have our Turkey Day celebration one of these days, after the package arrives, but today will be Pie Day — homemade pizza (pie) by Paolo with apple pie for dessert, an appropriate blending of Italian and American. It won’t be anything like Thanksgivings past, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be special. I’ll still have a pang in my heart for sitting around the table with my family digging into my mom’s turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes, and there’s no reason to ignore that.

Acknowledging and making space for all of our feelings, including disappointments, is healthy.

What we shouldn’t do is let those temporary feelings take over and make decisions for us. That is one of the core teachings of Buddhism, but you don’t have to be a practicing Buddhist to grasp and practice this idea, one that has truly changed my life over the past few years.

Seeing those feelings of hurt, anger, disappointment, etc., float on by, understanding that they are indeed temporary but nonetheless absolutely exist is both calming and reassuring; acknowledging them helps bring me back to center where I can again think positively and logically to come to a solution that works for me and for those around me.

So I’m grateful this Thanksgiving for another opportunity to learn from disappointment, to appreciate my friends around the world, and to celebrate another day in a place I love with the man I love (who also happens to make a mean pizza).

I wish all of you who are celebrating a wonderful Thanksgiving as well — and please have some cranberries and sweet potatoes for me!