Living in Uncertainty
Praise of Uncertainty, Part 3
Many people have asked me what I am doing, what I am not doing, where I am, and where I have been in the past years. I finally decided to answer these questions, continuing from my last post, written at the beginning of 2019, when I was living a relatively conventional life according to societal norms.
This is a continuation of my previous post, “Productivity and Efficiency? No thanks, I am human.” — Praise of Uncertainty, Part 2.
Most of this third part was written back in 2019, when I was advocating for embracing life’s intrinsic uncertainties instead of using a job as a means to escape them — or rather, to escape life itself. Eventually, a profound internal shift happened, and I stopped writing in this way.
What happened?
The Search for Freedom
In early 2019, I embarked on a long inner and outer journey, which is still ongoing today, albeit in a transformed way.
Like many others, my journey began with a desire for freedom. However, the quest for outer freedom ended quickly when I saw through the illusion of what we call freedom. In our Western society, we equate freedom with the ability to do whatever we want, a state easily attained once we accumulate enough money and time to escape the rat race. Fortunately, it did not take me long to experience the illusion of this so-called freedom. I enjoyed it for a while, but eventually, it felt like just another kind of prison.
Abandoning the pursuit of outer freedom, I landed in the Peruvian Amazon rainforest in 2019, where I spent several months with the indigenous Shipibo people, working with plant medicine, particularly Ayahuasca. I do not intend to elaborate on Ayahuasca here, as I believe it is a topic beyond words. Those who have experienced it deeply will understand my point.
That experience was just the beginning — the tip of the iceberg — of a journey that shifted my life energy from my mind to my heart.
I now see my previous posts in the Praise of Uncertainty series as products of the mind. They were honest and objective but still laden with judgment and mental conditioning. For a while, I dismissed them, having undergone a shift in perspective. However, I recently started appreciating them again. They are purely intellectual creations, and that is not necessarily a bad thing — they are still part of me.
This internal shift led me to write Shaman, la leggenda del guacamayo and several other stories afterward. These stories are less mind-driven; they are simply stories. They are written in Italian, my mother tongue, and I have found it impossible to translate them into another language with my mind alone. I have tried many times, but they never made sense. If you are interested, Google Translate does a much better job.
The inner journey did not end in the Amazon. It continued, growing deeper and stronger, even outside the shamanic context. For six years, I traveled from one place to another.
Questions I Never Answered
“Why don’t you start a blog?”
“Can I follow you on Instagram?”
“Where are you now? Can you show me some pictures? When are you coming back?”
“Why are you escaping?”
I have never answered these questions and I will not answer them here either, as I believe these questions are not truly meant for me, but for the people asking them. I have simply become an easy target onto which people project their own fear of uncertainty.
For the record: I do not have an Instagram account, my Facebook is empty, and I have never intended to write a travel blog. Nor do I plan to go back (back where, anyway?).
And who is escaping? And who is not?
Tourists, Backpackers, and Nomads
Throughout my extensive travels, I met many kinds of travelers.
Tourists
Tourists stay in resorts, eating and drinking until they are full. Once full, they sleep. That is the cycle. Some may read a few pages of a book, and after a maximum of two weeks, they return home, believing they have experienced the country and its culture. They do not realize there are other ways to travel — or to live. To them, a vacation means spending a year’s savings on food, drinks, and sleep.
Backpackers
Backpackers stay in hostels, interacting with like-minded people. They often travel solo or with a friend, joining group tours and activities, seeking adventure while unconsciously beginning an inner transformation. After about six months, many abandon their planned itineraries, going with the flow. Some return home with profound but unanswered questions, which they will never resolve within Western society. They start therapy, but therapy does not address what they were truly searching for.
Nomads (Not Digital Nomads)
Some backpackers become nomads. They travel beyond the timeframe they initially planned. After a year, returning to Western society no longer makes sense to them. They have discovered something unique — something their friends back home will never understand unless they experience it themselves. They turn into explorers. You will not find them in hostels or tourist tours; you will see them alone on the beach at sunset, watching the sun melt into the sea in silence. They have no return ticket. Home is not a place behind or ahead; it is the present moment, though they may not fully realize it yet.
The Inevitable Turn Inward
At some point, the search for stunning sunsets and thrilling experiences turns inward — into the search for meaning. That is when one becomes a seeker of life’s mystery. Seekers no longer travel the world to see it; they travel to see themselves. They understand that we do not perceive the world as it is but as we are. Their destinations are no longer beaches or mountains but monasteries, ashrams, retreats, and plant dietas.
I went through all these phases. And I grew tired of all of them.
The Rush to Presence
As I explained in a dialogue between Ting Tong and Gado Gado, the real reason we travel is not to discover foreign places but to feel fully alive in the moment. Once we understand that the external world merely reflects our inner transformation, there is no longer a need to venture so far or seek extreme adventures.
What About Just Being?
And so, I return to the question: What about simply being?
The art of doing nothing.
Maybe, after all these years of searching, there is nothing left to find. Maybe home was never a place, nor a destination, but a presence within.
So I sit. I breathe. I listen. And for the first time, I realize — I was never lost.
And neither are you.
