Last night, after four days of being sick and in the house, Silvana and I went out. We left at the time that I usually go to bed and headed towards Torino, over an hour away. Ten minutes into the car and I was already nodding off, so when we stopped for gas, I ordered a tiny cup of coffee (I do this about once a year when I absolutely need to stay awake), plopped a whole Lindt chocolate ball in the middle and stirred it into syrup. This did the trick, and I was able to enjoy a grown up evening.
Silvana being in love with Morocco, we first found ourselves in a small, exotic yet elegant second story living room where people were finishing meals served on round hammered metal trays while a wonderful Moroccan musician played his heart out. Next to him was a life size video of a nude woman with very, very long hair, standing strangely still. There must have been some significance. After a month in Pisciotta, I felt the height of sophistication, even though my wool hat and heavy boots might have disagreed. Having arrived on the tail end of the concert, we didn't get to hear much nor dance, but I did love the Moroccan rendition of Holy Night.
The concert over, we headed back out into the frozen streets in search of our next adventure.
It wasn't long before my guide had us walk through another strange and tantalizing door. Nowhere near as fancy, it now felt as though we were into some secret underground place. Think Fight Club. Turns out we were in the old royal stables, a beautiful old funky place which the city of Torino had been wanting to turn into a shopping mall until artists and musicians took it over and transformed it in a place for drum circles, performances and late night jams. It was cold, it was raw, it was awesome. Musicians after musicians arrived, the sound evolved, grew and took over our brains. The energy was contagious. By the time we left, around midnight, I think they were just getting warmed up.
We got home at 1 am.
Tonight, we put up the Christmas tree. Then we dressed in warm layers and walked down to the café for a cup of hot chocolate. Then we watched Miami Vice in Italian. Got up for toast and tea. Silvana cooked some veggies while I wrestled with my email hack.
Nothing spectacular, just two women hanging out in their socks in the middle of winter. Two women who did not know the other one existed, a short few weeks ago.
I needed this. I needed this easy girl time. I needed to put up a Christmas tree.
I am so grateful.
"Thank You Laura for sharing, for teaching and spreading loving kindness. "
"I think I love you. You bring good things into my life, or remind me of things I love and know, but have let go of."
"Laura, you are so good for me. I laugh and sniffle and get the shivers when I read your essays. Thanks so much for letting all your wonderfulness run around loose."
"Thank you so much for who you are and what you share with the world. Your mere being transforms lives as it has transformed mine. This particular post did to my heart what water does to parched soil."
"Thank you for your gentle words that are packed full of wisdom. I have been struggling with the concept of what words can do to another person when they are negative words. Your words are the flip side of our word power, and shows how delightfully powerful kind words can be. Thank you."
"Once again Laura Lavigne takes you on an adventure of the heart. She has a way of pulling you right in the car with her. Asking you to consider changing a fear to taking thoughtful action. Whether she's teaching a class, leading a retreat or heading for a happiness sprinkling, Laura will invite you to shed old ways of thinking and be completely authentic. Join in!"
"Essentially pure love.
I enjoy how Laura is kind to herself and to us other humans who dance in and out of each other's lives. "
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You can count on Laura for warmth, humor, charm, and a lift to your day and your heart. She inspires me to be braver than I am, and to love the world out loud. She's a gem, and a generous one at that!"
I write because this is the way I am able to taste life more deeply.