When I consider what has happened between my first post on Kgioia in 2013 and this inaugural post of Dolce Far Niente in 2026, it is both unfathomable and perfectly logical. I now have 3 teenage boys, where they used to be ages 1, 3, and 5. They are (almost) all now taller than my husband and I. We now have a dog instead of a cat. We exchanged one house for another.  

But in that time, too, my beloved father passed away (3 years ago on this very day), and the void he has left remains endlessly deep. This blog is a bridge to him and our Italian heritage, as well as a reminder of how to live as fully as possible through our ever-evolving, ever-quickening lives. To live just as he did, to “take care of the little things, and the big things will take care of themselves.”

Dolce Far Niente – the sweetness of doing nothing – is a philosophy that resonates with me in its gentle encouragement to pay attention to, and thus find the value in, the existence of those “little things” that make up a good life.  For instance, that fig I referenced in Kgioia’s first post in 2013 inspired me to pay attention to its beautiful color, texture, striping, miraculous inner threads, its status as the first cultivated plant, originating in the Jordan Valley, which people have been eating for over 11,000 years.  In short, I felt awe at this compact fruit that spans time and space. Although a life where “doing nothing” is really not possible for me (nor would I find it appealing after about 2 days), it is in mindfully doing and being and noticing and living that we discover dolce far niente.  It is in paying attention to life as an aesthetic experience. 

Which is where the Italian spirit comes into play.  The Italians – the ultimate aesthetes – are known for their appreciation of the high quality of life found in simple soulful moments: a long meal, a fresh caprese salad, a well-loved (even chipped) ceramic bowl used over and over again, spindly sprigs of rosemary plucked from the garden and tossed into a tomato sauce simmering on the stove.  Food, wine, art, culture, geographical beauty, what pleasure for the senses!  And then there is the high value placed on connection to family and community, from multigenerational households, to the nightly passeggiata, to the piazzas still popular with the locals. Dolce Far Niente provides an opportunity to refine the senses to appreciate what is there – no new “stuff” required.  It is a sanctuary for the aesthetic experience, a space to center our attention on beauty of all forms, an anchor amidst the upheaval of our world.

Our attention is naturally in short supply, and for good reason: if we paid attention to every single sound, sight, smell around us, we would be overwhelmed by cognitive overload.  Thanks to survival instincts, too, we tend to pay attention to the threats around us, which too often limit our ability to see the beauty and goodness that ARE there.  Add to that the fact that our attention is being relentlessly courted by many entities, thanks to the growing influence of tech in our everyday lives. So it is crucial to pay attention to what we pay attention to, to tend to – and to care for – our attention in a way that we may not have needed to even in the recent past. (What was doomscrolling in 2013?)  And in tending to our attention, we will find that we tend more to our relationships, being more present not just in our own lives, but for others. This echoes French philosopher Simone Weil when she says that, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.”

Shifting away from Kgioia does not mean the joy is gone.  Al contrario, gioia is inherent within the philosophy of Dolce Far Niente, whose gentle encouragement to pay attention can help us find those little joyous moments that make up a meaningful life.  But meaningfulness and joy are not always one and the same.  We might notice the flavor of the madeleine or a few bars from a song and let them take us back to a moment or people we miss, and this nostalgia does not bring me (a hopeless nostalgic) any joy. But it does add depth and richness to my existence, re-living those experiences with people who have helped make life precious.  

And so, as our family evolves and our eldest prepares for his final year at home, I am trading productivity for presence. This year, my focus shifts toward the ‘sweetness of doing nothing’—finding gratitude and awe in the luminous moments of the ordinary, whether in a shared meal, the quiet wisdom of a poem, or the simple vibrancy of a basil plant in the sun.