Dolce Far Niente

On occasion, when sleep escapes me, I will flip on the television and search for reruns of sitcoms I watched as a child in the 50s and 60s. I’ve seen most of my favorite episodes numerous times. And there is something about that familiarity, that predictability, that nostalgic step back to a time when television was, for me, a wholesome, gentle view of family, that immediately puts me into a deep slumber. My own childhood family was a bit different from what I viewed back then, but that’s a tale  for my therapist... ;-)

Anyway, on an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show, the star tries to dupe his wife by phoning her, pretending to be a flirtatious Italian doctor. When he arrives home that evening, she’s prepared a candlelit, Italian dinner. (He’s unaware that she’s onto his ruse.) She greets him with the phrase, “dolce far niente.” She explains that it means, “how sweet to do nothing.”

And I couldn’t agree more. The deliciousness of doing nothing is so sweet you can almost taste it.

In 1998 my older sister gave me a book for Christmas, “The Art of Doing Nothing.” I read it at the time. Then in the midst of a busy life, I promptly stowed it away and forgot about it. Fast forward to 2012, where I’m methodically going through every item in our newly sold city house to determine if it is to be 1) kept, 2) given away, or 3) tossed. My modus operandi is to make an immediate decision. Touch an object and within a second or two decide: keep, donate or trash.

We were downsizing, so most everything had to go. But, surely I could find room in our new home for this little book, a gift from my sister. I opened it and inside was a bookmark she had picked out to go with the book. Also, there was a holiday notecard upon which she’d jotted a note to me.

Thanks for the reminder about the importance of pausing in life, Sis.