It’s a rainy day here on the hilltop. It’s been raining steadily all day and without stop, which is unusual. It took a few days to get over my travel drudge, but starting yesterday I have been at full strength and ready to dig into my next projects. Yesterday was about the movies and dinner, but today was supposed to be about getting things done. But instead, I’ve chosen to be prudent and avoid the cold rain. It has gotten me thinking about why I always feel like I’ve gotta be accomplishing something.
“Il dolce far niente” is an Italian phrase that translates to “the sweetness of doing nothing” or “the pleasure of idleness.” It’s a phrase I learned almost 55 years ago when I lived in Italy. I was there because my mother took a job in Rome as a UN diplomat, a job she continued in for another ten years until she retired. The funny thing is that I was there for no reason related to my father, who was born in Bassano del Grappa in northern Italy and emigrated to the United States as my mother’s husband under the War Brides Act of 1946. That makes me half Italian and gives rise to the Italian citizenship process I am going through at the moment. I have no firm reason as to why I am seeking Italian citizenship and the process was initiated more for my son Tom than for me, but here I am. In some ways I relate a great deal to Italy and Italians, and in another way, I am as far from being Italian at heart as I can be.
One of the biggest differences between my ways and Italian ways is imbedded in the “Il dolce far niente” frame of mind. I am my mother’s son more than my father’s son. And for one reason or another, she was far more achievement oriented than he was. He liked the good life, but he didn’t particularly want to work so hard for it. Everything she had she worked very hard for. So here I am, at the age of 71 trying to reassert my Italianness. What could that possibly mean?
“Il dolce far niente” represents a concept deeply embedded in Italian culture that celebrates the art of pleasant relaxation without guilt or purpose. The origin of this phrase dates back to ancient Roman times. The Romans had a similar concept called “otium,” which referred to leisure time spent in contemplative, recreational, or intellectual activities – essentially, time away from official duties or business. The exact coining of “il dolce far niente” as a phrase is difficult to pinpoint precisely, but it gained popularity during the Renaissance period in Italy when there was renewed interest in the classical ideals of balance between work and leisure. It became part of the cultural lexicon as Italy developed its reputation for appreciating life’s pleasures and taking time to enjoy simple moments. The concept was further popularized in the 18th and 19th centuries when wealthy Europeans (especially the British) would undertake the “Grand Tour” of Italy. Foreign visitors observed and wrote about the Italian approach to leisure and the enjoyment of life, helping spread the idea internationally. The phrase has since become emblematic of a particular lifestyle philosophy that values relaxation and being present in the moment – an antidote to the constant productivity demanded by modern society.
The Italian concept of “il dolce far niente” has similar philosophical counterparts in several other cultures around the world, though they each have their own unique cultural nuances. In Spain and other Latin cultures, there’s “la siesta” which goes beyond just a nap to embrace a general period of rest and relaxation in the day. Note that “la siesta” is also a part of Italian culture and I can recall our neighbors in Rome putting on their pajamas for their afternoon naps in the heat of the day. The Dutch have “niksen,” which literally means “doing nothing” and has gained popularity as a stress-reduction practice, which is funny because the Dutch are pretty high-strung people for the most part, their reputation for smoking dope notwithstanding. In Germany, there’s “Müßiggang,” which translates to “idleness” but has historical appreciation as an art form or state of being. Leave it to the Germans to turn a good thing into a less than good thing. Nordic countries embrace “hygge” (Danish) or “lagom” (Swedish), which while not identical to “il dolce far niente”, share elements of mindful relaxation and appreciation of simple pleasures. In Japan, another high-strung culture normally, “boketto” refers to the art of gazing into the distance without thinking about anything specific – a meditative form of “doing nothing.” The French have “farniente” (borrowed directly from Italian) but also the concept of “flâneur” – someone who strolls leisurely, observing and appreciating life without a specific purpose. Brazilian culture celebrates “jeitinho”, which, while broader in meaning, includes elements of flexibility and taking life’s pace more easily.
While, as we can see, lots of cultures try hard to chill, but no one does it better than the Italians. I can honestly say that Every time I have rented a villa in Italy for my family and me, I have managed to find my way into that peaceful place we are characterizing as “il dolce far niente”. And I must admit, I have always felt that it was very sweet indeed. But I haven’t done that since I’ve been retired and as I regularly explain through my stories, I seem always to be in search of that siege de soleil where “il dolce far niente” is sweetest.
One of the reasons this is on my mind today is that as I get forced into a state of idleness out here in retirement, I want to enjoy it and not feel guilty about it. Even if you don’t feel its the best way to live your life, there comes a time when you are required to do less and perhaps nothing and it seems healthier to be able to enjoy it rather than to dread it. My bridge to that place is through my story writing. It’s not exactly “far niente”, but it is pleasurable activity that I choose to do and do not have to do. People always wonder how I manage it and I must admit, I do not find it to be a burden in the least. It is actually helpful to me in getting me into the habit of doing almost nothing. I don’t know if it will ever be possible for me to do nothing at all, but I am drawn to the sweetness of trying to do just that.