Dolce Far Niente

(n.) the sweetness of doing nothing: the Italian philosphy of finding pleasure in the nothingness of a moment.

Dolce far niente, meaning sweet idleness, the pleasure of nothing, relaxation in carefree idleness, describes how I feel as the sun shines and the season drifts into spring.

I went on a ten-mile walk on Easter Sunday.

It was glorious, and there were few people to break my solitude, blue skies and the sounds of nature willing me to slow and take in her beauty.

I love the warmth on my skin and the hint that spring is well and truly on its way.

My garden is alive, bustling with activity, a hive of activity under my feet.

Spring heralds new beginnings and a time to break out of the slumber and let go of things holding us down during the dark winter months.

While the world is in turmoil, it's reassuring that the seasons continue to change, and life beneath our feet and all around us busies itself unhurriedly and unfazed.

I endeavour to live in the moment to appreciate what I have around me.

On Easter Monday, as I was journaling, I wrote down four words that came to mind as I lay in bed drinking my morning cup of tea:

Mindfulness

Gratitude

Tolerance

Patience

I don't know why these four words came to mind.

It is a combination of the changing seasons and my increased awareness of the need to be more patient with those around me.

I readily agree that I have little patience and even less tolerance.

Yet I suspect that is an age-related affliction; the older you get, the less patience and tolerance you have for people and things that annoy you.

I like that these four important words came to my mind. I don't know what triggered it, but something did.

It could be divine intervention, or it could be because I am relaxed and open to new things.

Our lives are always in a rush, from morning to evening, as we constantly try to make time to fit things in and complete projects.

We miss the beauty of life around us.

Taking time to wonder and ponder allows us the much-needed mental rest.

I am in a place where I don't feel guilty about taking time out of work to write and sketch, which is my happy place.

I don't necessarily need to find a place to write and draw.

The physical act of doing takes me mentally away, which is a pleasant feeling.

I always encourage family, friends, and people to journal. It is such a calming activity.

Something is shifting, stirring inside me.

There's lots of change afoot from the eldest about to leave home and move into a new home with his fiancée, to my younger son graduating this June, to me planning my retirement, likely to be later on this year, so I can be free to write all the time, which is my dream.

I feel more in tune with the ebb and flow of nature, in a place of calm, strange given that two weeks ago, I was in a state of inconstancy.

There is some certainty in the knowledge and valiancy of what to expect; knowledge, on the other hand, does give you the power to accept the things you can control and what to let go of, but this takes age and experience, and even then, letting go "of stuff" isn't always easy.

I am doing life 'right,' or at least my interpretation of it, still learning as I go along, some of which comes from the failures I've experienced as a parent, spouse, and friend.

I am more with less.

Life is a bittersweet pill, and with age, you accept it.

Perhaps I'm finally at one with God, life, and the universe; the days pass in a blue blur, but it feels all right.

Unaware of how far I've wandered, but still close enough to hear the noise, life has a rhythm of its own, slow and languorous.

Life has changed from the cadence of school three years ago, and work is all-consuming, but we look forward to summer and holiday family time, when, sadly, four will become three for the final time.