The Place That Healed What I Couldn’t Explain: A Quiet Chapter in Sicily
I did not calculate the trip intentionally. There was nothing like itinerary. No check list of items. Simply the inward feeling that I must be elsewhere–somewhere which is less stern than where I had been. I was weary, but not in that sort that sleep would cure.
I was a stranger to myself in the past few months, with a burden that I could not put names on. The outside of my life seemed to be good, but somewhere something was not moving. Restlessness. It was a sort of silent sorrow which I could not describe to anyone.
The Quiet Arrival in Verdura
So there I was at the seaside in Sicily on the edge of the sea at Verdura. The air was also different and was brighter, saltier and cleaner. Just before I came it had been raining, and the earth smelled alive. Verdura is not a place that is too flashy.
It does not impress you with it grandeur. No, it does not come over you with a bang, but rather welcomes you with some free space and a hint of elegant silence that remains like a breath out.
I would not have imagined to have any feeling, at least not immediately. But on the second morning I sat outside on the terrace when the sun rose and there emerged in me a sort of softness. The sky had gone deep apricot hue.
There were birds flying past the olive trees, and that low sound of the sea was playing itself like a lullaby. It had not occurred to me, that so long a time was now past since I had heard quiet which did not seem lonely. At Verdura, silence was a friend—one that even a modern explorer might seek when searching for meaning beyond the noise of everyday life.
Slowing Down and Letting Go
Days became more or less rhythmic with time; unorganized. I strolled all aimlessly. I did not count any laps I swam. I allowed the sun to rub up against my skin and I let my mind think and think without a need to remember anything or fix what my mind was wondering about.
Verdura brought that sort of beauty that does not demand anything on you. It is just giving. Joys of the Sea and sky. Olive Parks and gardens. A golf course which was so naturally fitted into the land, that to play thereon seemed to be a part of the earth.
One afternoon I went aimlessly into the spa. I did not set myself any great expectations. But I hung in warm mineral-laden seawater like an hour perhaps, and inside myself something started unknotting. I slumped on my shoulders.
I was taking a drink more slowly. I could feel my pulse not as a sign, but as a beat something which had life. I started understanding that I do not need answers. I was lacking space. I had to be allowed to sense without the necessity to correct.
Gentle Moments, Lasting Impact
Evenings used to be silent ceremonies. Dinners which were so long under a lavender sky. Wine which was like sun and earth. Noodles which melted like butter. I would see the light go down the horizon and I would feel, first of all in months, that there was no urgency. There was no other place where I had to be. There is nobody to play to. That silence became the solution I was not looking forward to.
I went a couple afternoons over the fairways. I am not a golfer of course but the way the course curved down to towards the sea fascinated me. The rustling of the wind in the grass, the far sounding lap of the water–it seemed a heart-felt meditation in action. I began to realize why there has been people talking about Verdura golf holidays not as a sport only. It has nothing to do with competition. It is the matter of presence.
The experience that I particularly remember was not dramatic. It came about one evening, when I was sitting there alone by the edge of the shore and the sun was going down in a ridge that comes lower than a ridge will.
It was a not very special thing but something inside of me changed. Out of a lifetime of burdensome weight a little bit faded away. I never shed a drop of tear. I did not have to do that. and I was all human again sitting there and enjoying it.
What Verdura Gave Me?
Verdura did not provide me answers. It provided me something better though. It made me refresh my thinking on how I can stay with myself without judgments. It brought back to my memory how beauty does not necessarily have to turn heads to change hearts. It can speak in a low tone. It can just be there next to you and tell you, you are permitted to feel this.
Should you run short of that same softness; should your heart have borne its burden too long; then Verdura is the sort of place in which your silence would be not unwelcome. It is unhurried, unbelligerent and definitely earth-based.
And when it comes to experiencing it seamlessly, I would propose to snoop Chaka Travel, who thrive on exclusive access to Verdura at its serene best—particularly when it comes to those inclined to get away somewhere where rest, reflection, and calm elegance are the operative conditions.
It’s the perfect destination for a road trip of reflection, where the journey itself is as soothing and transformative as the destination. I was out of there lighter hearted and with fewer expectations. Sicily never solved my life, but eased certain areas which were set too hard.
It caused me to remember that recovery does not necessarily take the form of clamor or a presence that is obvious. It is an empty chapter sometimes. Sometimes it isn t no more than a long breath under Sicilian skies.
