Nobody’s Property
Dear friends,
This letter reaches you from Italy, as often, and perhaps even more often in the future. I don’t know. I don’t know about the future, about life’s plans. The negotiations with Mauro about the property are lengthy, and often I think I should let go, and then I even wonder if buying a new property is really what is meant to be. I like to move and feel light after all, and as a writer, I can do without a place I need to take care of. Each time I let go of the project and jump into the field of not-knowing, there is this sense of possibilities, of feeling in love, that starts vibrating in me. I remember my true nature, this moment, this lightness. And then, somehow, Mauro’s place pops up again too …
Last week, I was on a farm in France with my youngest son - a small community of beautiful people of all ages. I was talking about the Italian property project with Elie, a young and wise man. I told him it wasn’t going that smoothly, that I often had to wait for weeks without hearing anything. Two offers I made hadn’t been accepted. The owner kept changing his mind.
“All good things take time,” he said.
“But my experience is that what is meant to be, goes without effort,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “when there is nothing to learn.”
I thought that was such a beautiful answer. Elie, like an angel with a message I met by chance, told me that I had something to learn in the process of negotiating with Mauro. I wondered what that could be.
My next step was to invite my son and myself to Mauro’s place. We hadn’t been in direct contact until then; everything had been through the real estate agent, which clearly wasn’t working. So why not take another approach and get to know Mauro better and see if we could connect? I had the feeling there were possibilities that could suit him, me, and the bigger whole. At a deeper level we are on the same side, after all.
We were most welcome, Mauro said. He is a free spirit who doesn’t like to conform, but he is a gentleman too. And the house has many rooms.
When we were there, I took my time to explore the property, and Mauro and I had small chats about everything but the acquisition. Mauro enjoys la dolce vita more than any other Italian. He is proud to tell that he never worked, only played. Now, as he is getting older, it’s time to sell his last property, the farm that belonged to his grandparents.
Then, we had a small breakthrough. He had found a smaller house he could move to and so he could let go of his request to stay until Christmas. Yesterday, we toured the property with a plumber I had asked to make an estimate for a new heating system. Mauro and I were getting closer again. We were on the same side. Later in the afternoon, sitting in the shadow in front of the house, we started discussing the price in a very friendly manner. We didn’t agree yet, but I still felt we were on the same side. We were dancing and we enjoyed each other’s dancing style.
What is that I am learning from this entire process? That sometimes things do take time, but mostly that I don’t want to buy this property. If I get too involved in the wanting, the controlling, the practical, the measurable, and the outcome that should be met, I start feeling lost. I forget about my true nature, the present moment only, and I am not interested in that. I don’t want to the owner of a big property (been there). I only choose to remember my true nature, to be available to divine will, and if that comes with a beautiful project in Italy, I am open. The experience of my true nature is my only priority and it doesn’t take anything. It mostly takes nothing, being nobody. Allowing life to dance. My definition of la dolce vita. The negotiating is no less beautiful than the acquisition, or the failure of it. The dancing is happening anyhow. Let’s see if Mauro’s place become Nobody’s property or not.
Much love,
Zoe
View from the terrace
