Only 20 days into the new year, and I have already experienced several instances of despair, frustration, anxiety, self-doubt, etc., not unlike the sensation of wandering mindlessly through the "catacombs" underneath Castello di Amorosa. You never quite descend into the cellar by going down stairs because the pathways just meander around and around into the bottom layers of the castle, yet the anxiety is just a bit unsettling -- enough to keep me gasping whenever my foot steps down and it lands, because of the gradient, several inches lower than I expected. The dark and damp underbelly of the castle surrounds me and my voice echoes, bouncing off the brick walls lined with thousands of french oak barrels filled with wine. But everything about underbelly living and wandering appeals to me. I love the mellow, luminous yellow lights shining down on the barrels, and I love the criss-cross arches of the ceilings, and I love the smell of damp oak and the faint scent of wine. I love turning around each corner to discover there is another yellow light, reassuring me that there is a pathway leading me out of here. I love that the barrels, though indistinguishable one from another, remind me that there is a gestation period, a time of waiting and expectation (so much like Epiphany!), and that at the end, there will be happiness and sweetness and celebration. For all of that, I'm willing to experience the labyrinthian meanderings, the seemingly endless waiting in 2 years, 5 years, 10 years, or perhaps 20 years, before everything comes to fruition. Whether or not there is a light above my head, I'm willing to descend those steps, for all that is to come.
