It’s only recently that I understood how to deepen my experience of the beauty around me. I used to look at something and immediately judge it as beautiful or not. I either focused on it or looked away. When I sit in a garden, walk through Florence’s streets and piazzas, or stroll along the Arno, I try to consciously keep my heart open and breathe my surroundings into my heart. It’s a delight to to revel in the beauty of a single flower, a pathway, or even sunlight beaming through the trees. I am always amazed at how something that pleases my eye can fill me with so much joy that my heart bursts open.
Me, My Heart, and I
Reaching for love
For a long time now, I have tried to not write about grief. I thought if I wrote about other things, this need to write about grief would just go away. However, for the last few weeks that’s all that has been wanting to come out. A few nights in a row, I have woken up in the middle of the night with words streaming into my mind that wanted to be written. I would have to open up my iPad and dictate into my Notes App. Yesterday, while I was in the Giardino Bardini I decided to bring a notebook with me. For a while, I hadn’t wanted to have a notebook on me because I didn’t really want to write about grief outside of my home. Often I am inspired to write when I am in one of Florence’s gardens soaking up her energy. I initially didn’t want to pull out my notebook after I sat down on a wooden bench under the warm afternoon sun facing east, but I did.