We often separate our inner experiences from what happens outside of us, as if there’s a clear boundary between the inner and outer world. As if they’re in opposition: spirituality versus action, spirit versus matter.

I believe true spirituality is deeply grounded. It cannot exist in isolation.

And I also believe that the way you tend to your inner self is reflected in how you engage with the outer world.

The more you go to the essence within, the more you seek essence outside.

This is how I ended up sleeping in an olive field, on the land of an olive oil producer in the Maremma region of Tuscany—one of my favorite places on Earth.

This is my kind of place.

I quickly realized how much I love sleeping alone in beautiful nature.

One of the most incredible things about living in a van is how quickly you understand how little you need:

A van named Bruno.

Water for a few days.

Gasoline.

A portable toilet.

Solar panels for energy efficiency.

And, of course—nature. Nature is the centerpiece.

There’s silence. No clutter. No pollution. Just the rhythm of the land. The buzzing of insects. The chirping of birds.

They become surprisingly loud in the absence of noise.

There is no solitude on the road, because you're surrounded by life. It’s only the unnecessary that falls away:

The pointless chatter.

The redundant actions.

Your daily rhythm returns to that of our grandparents: the sun.

Waking just before sunrise.

Going to sleep as the sun sets—because the day is done, and what’s the point of artificial light when nature gifts you dusk and darkness?

Suddenly, processed food no longer appeals. It feels plastic, void of real taste.

The body begins to crave only what comes directly from the earth, from the hands of the grower.

Extra virgin olive oil.

Oregano picked from the garden.

Tomatoes that taste like tomatoes again.

Once more, food is real—and the body couldn’t be happier.

After the van, all I’ll truly need is a piece of land.

A place to park.

A place where things grow—uncontaminated, essential.

Where food tastes like it did for our ancestors.

Where life is simple.

Where entertainment doesn’t come from TV, phones, or bars, but from the rhythm of the earth—the birds in flight, the natural cycle of olives growing.

In this space, anyone would understand: as humans, we don’t need much at all.

And we often need things quite different from what society tells us.

We need peace.

The freedom to enjoy slow living.

Uncontaminated air.

Open spaces.

Time to truly listen to one another.
The litany of silence.

And maybe, in places like this, we’re reminded of something we’ve always known deep down:
 That peace doesn’t come from adding more to our lives, but from peeling back the layers—until only the essential remains.

The earth, the breath, the stillness.


Where the olives grow, we remember how to simply be.