v37 Hurry Up and Live

After reading years of Brad Feld's annual birthday posts, I decided to follow suit beginning last year. I found his letters to himself insightful and inspirational, so I write my own yearly notes as a tip of my virtual hat. 

While I find reviews helpful (I usually do this at the end of the calendar year), I prefer looking forward. I've mentioned before that I'm not big on overnight transformations. I'm keener on long-term improvements, which I find more enjoyable and sustainable. I'll carry that same philosophy into another year, intending to be better when I write the v38 post next year. 

For now, there are a host of things on my mind that I'd like to explore in the next 12 months; here are a few of them: 

Longer-Form Writing

I set out to write more frequently several years ago. I started two blogs (the one you're reading and a business blog) and have been filling the digital notebooks since. Mission accomplished. 

It's hard to measure how much my writing has improved (I assume it's at least marginally better), but my goal from here is to produce several lengthier works, culminating in publishing my first book in a few years. Sometimes I have trouble fleshing out ideas, so I'll tackle this obstacle head-on and attempt several longer (5,000-ish word) pieces throughout the year. 

Business Clarity

I love entrepreneurship. Creating a living and breathing business from a vision and discovering new ways to help my clients thrive is rewarding. But I struggle to be too many things for too many people. This year, I'm committed to leveraging my knowledge and skills to maximize my value to my clients.

Tennis

There is no better way to start a day than to work up a sweat on the tennis court. I've played tennis since high school but never had formal instruction and never took it overly seriously. Last year, I improved my fitness; this year, I'll improve my game.

It's day 0 of 365, which leaves plenty of time for iterations. These aren't commandments; I can revise them at will. 

I'd wrap up this post here in most years, but I have additional remarks since v.37 is being birthed in Florence, Italy. 

Part 1: Hurry Up and Live

Our apartment door leads onto the charming streets of Oltrarno, a Florentine borgo dating back to the 13th century. The neighborhood is young compared to other parts of the Renaissance city. The northern bank of the Arno, across the river, has a much longer history, having been founded as a Roman military outpost in the first century B.C. 

Amid such ancient wonders, feeling old is impossible. 

The neighborhood. We love living in Oltrarno, near Santo Spirito.

The Ponte Vecchio spans the narrowest part of the Arno river. It was first built during Roman times but has been rebuilt multiple times since. To clean the bridge up, in 1595, commerce was limited to goldsmiths and jewelers.

It's not just the ancient streets, historic buildings, and renowned art that create a sprightly sense of wonder here. Walking along the narrow stone streets, I'm amazed by the energy. Even septuagenarians pedal their bikes with pace and agility, while octogenarians haul their groceries on foot from the salumeria, pescheria, and other markets to their homes. 

Sometimes they stop to admire my dear daughter, bending down to meet her in her stroller, repeating "Bella" over and over again with a radiant smile. Life is abundant. 

And while the vibrant atmosphere is rejuvenating, the fleetingness of life echoes from the tombs of Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo, Machiavelli, and other Renaissance masters. I hear them calling to me, "Hurry up and live." Similar reminders cry out from the crumbling mortar of ancient ruins, the faded paint on aging frescoes, and treasures sunk beneath the Arno. So, while I feel young, I'm aware of the shiftiness of time. 

Michaelangelo’s tomb in the Basilica di Santa Croce. The church is also the burial place of Machiavelli, Galileo, Rossini, and other historical figures.

1st century Roman theatre in Fiesole - a town in the hills of Florence.

Even the word 'Renaissance' reminds me of life's impermanence. It refers to the period of rebirth and renewal between the 14th and 17th centuries, following the Dark Ages, where classical notions were revived and enhanced. Discoveries about the world were made, and fresh ideas were met with awe and wonder.

But the renowned artists, authors, scientists, leaders, intellectuals, commanders, and innovators of the time have long since perished. So to have generations of their descendants. Some of their once-groundbreaking discoveries have been superseded by modern approaches that have exposed flaws in notions that now seem outdated — absurd even.  

Members of wealthy and influential families, like the de Medicis, Pazzis, and Salviatis, who clashed over control over the common people, are gone too. Despite their attempts to live like gods, they met their mortal end.

The City of the Lily stresses to us that time marches on. And that is a great reason to start living.

Part 2: The Innocents Abroad

The gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become, until he goes abroad. I speak now, of course, in the supposition that the gentle reader has not been abroad, and therefore is not already a consummate ass. If the case be otherwise, I beg his pardon and extend to him the cordial hand of fellowship and call him brother. I shall always delight to meet an ass after my own heart when I shall have finished my travels. —  Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad 

I'm delighted to join Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain) as a consummate ass.

Mark Twain may be best known for his exceptional novels, but he was a genuine polymath interested in scientific research and inquiry. He collaborated with Nikola Tesla in his laboratory and even obtained patents for three of his own inventions.

Twain was also a willing traveler with a strong interest in exploring the world. In 1861, he and his brother embarked on a stagecoach expedition across the American West. In 1865, he was commissioned by the Sacramento Union to write about his travels, which took him to the Sandwich Islands (modern Hawaii).

But his most famous excursion came one hundred fifty-six years ago when Twain embarked on a trip to Europe and the Middle East. This trip inspired his first widely successful book, The Innocents Abroad. In the chronicles of his "Great Pleasure Trip," Twain used his witty and comical narrative to depict American tourists and the locals of the destinations as satirical caricatures.

He told of an American who shouted boisterously at a French restaurant, disrupting the ambiance, and another who boasted about America's military power, even suggesting that American ships could push Gibraltar into the Mediterranean Sea. 

I admire Twain's intellectual breadth, wide-ranging curiosity, and writing, but during our peripatetic year, I aim to be the antithesis of The Innocents Abroad.

Part 3: The Foreigner 

After one month of living abroad, I have a newfound respect for those who have left their homes behind. I have traveled abroad for military assignments, business, and holidays, but an extended stay in a foreign land is a new experience.

Managing the language barrier is doable. I have a basic knowledge of Italian (Io parlo un po' di Italiano), and fortunately, many Florentines can communicate in English well enough to understand each other. It's the minor interactions that we take for granted that pose difficulties. 

How do you check out at the store? Where do you put the trash? Do you touch the vegetables at the market? When do you pay at the cafe or bar? How do you navigate the public transportation system? How do you make dinner reservations? Who orders next? How close do you stand to the person in front of you? When is tipping appropriate?

Overcoming minor obstacles can be stressful, but it builds the confidence to thrive anywhere. Although my elective voyage pales in comparison to the struggles of those compelled to flee their homes due to humanitarian crises, persecution, or in search of economic opportunities, I have developed a profound admiration for those who dare to move to a foreign land.

Feeling like a foreigner is a peculiar experience. It is strange to admit, but there is a slight hesitation and constant questioning in every action: am I doing this correctly? This hesitation rarely occurs at home, but it's a daily occurrence here. It is not a bad feeling but strange, an odd mix of excitement and discomfort. 

That is what growth feels like.

Part 4: Afoot and Light-Hearted

During the mid-19th century, the open road was a distinctive symbol of progress in America - a representation of the limitless freedom to discover the natural world and oneself.

Walt Whitman's Song of the Open Road was released merely five years before Twain's stagecoach excursion to the West. In his characteristic free verse, Whitman's call to adventure celebrates the freedom, fellowship, and adventure of travel. The open road is a great teacher of wisdom, and its lessons are available without distinction — even "the felon," "the tramp," "the illiterate person," "the beggar," and "the drunkard" can embark on the pilgrimage. 

In his poem, Whitman cautions against idleness: "You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house," he admonishes. He suggests that being indoors can lead to despair and hopelessness, where death seems to be lurking around every corner, and our mortality and inner flaws are all too apparent in our bones.

Section nine commences an invitation to all people: 

"Allons! Whoever you are come travel with me!"

My dear Whitman, I, too, am healthy and free, joining you in sailing the wild seas — ready for the mockings of those behind me; I take your hand. Allons! The road is before us!

I'll end this extended birthday post with Section 1 of Song of the Open Road:

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,

I do not want the constellations any nearer,

I know they are very well where they are,

I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)