OTIUM: The philosophy of life spent in elegant, intellectual freedom
It was a lazy summer read. The kind you fall into under the sun on the grass in the park. An escape from stateside frenzy to her own little paradise across the ocean. She wrote about her life in a way that made me want to live it too. Planting olive trees along the low stone wall by her Italian villa. Wine and well-spiced food on the veranda overlooking a wild tangle of flowers and vines, the air itself spiced with the hearty laughter of her foreign friends.
The boyfriend rose at an hour of his choosing to read and write and walk to town for more wine, more food, more adventures of which to pen. When the projects around the house became too much, they were off in a boxy red car to scavenge old books and colored tiles to sit besides others so lovingly collected and displayed in that villa on the hill.
I dream of such a life as hers and piece it together bit by bit as I fumble through the adventure of my own existence. Otium to me is the chair that sat so long as the sole piece of furniture in the living room. Spillers were warned to stay away. Otium is the green in the parks around Denver - a respite from the dust and traffic of the city. Golden flowers born of seeds tossed by hand against the side of the house. Patterns in the Turkish and Iranian rugs. Beautiful friends.
The philosophy is not lost on one who still has yet to own a villa across the sea.