Somewhere along my path of discovering who I really am, I once contemplated the option of dedicating a few months to a “work & travel” experience.

I found an old house in the heart of Tuscany — they were looking for people who help them picking, selecting and peeling chestnuts for further processing.

I always loved chestnuts dearly.

I remember walking through the big park near my childhood home, leaves crackling under my feet, my cheeks red from excitement and the chilly autumn air, my pockets full of smooth, shining brown treasures.

Chestnuts fall from their spiky, almost intimidating shells like hidden presents bursting out of protection. That contrast between the prickly outside and the silky inside mirrors how we, especially as children, experience wonder. How we encounter beauty where it’s least expected.

Finding chestnuts scattered on the ground feels like discovering little gems freely offered by nature. They aren’t sold in a toy shop, they have no price… They’re gifted abundance — a deeply joyful experience for a child’s heart.

Later, I discovered the indulgence of edible chestnuts, and I fell in love forever.

That is why the ad of the Tuscan family looking for support with their chestnut harvest spoke to me so deeply. But it wasn’t the core reason.

The core reason was one of the images they posted to introduce the place and surroundings. It showed an old, rustic kitchen with a very big table in the middle. A few people were sitting around it, peeling chestnuts. The ad has been removed in the meantime, so there’s no way for me to find that picture again, but in my memory (and possibly in my imagination…) it seemed late afternoon. The people looked content and relaxed. They might have had a glass of wine in front of them, and I wouldn’t wonder if they shared a few childhood stories around chestnuts and other treasures. I could almost swear there was an open fireplace in the picture. And that the sound of the last crickets after a long summer filled the chilly evening air outside, while a veil of mist slowly rose from the hills around the rural mansion.

I took a different path job-wise, but the chestnut table stayed with me ever since… I’m sure it hides a much deeper message for me, coming from the realms of my soul.

A picture — whether a photograph, painting or drawing — can touch our soul directly, much like music or a fragrance, bypassing the mind entirely. It speaks to an intuitive, emotional level within us, awakening feelings, memories or longings that might have been hidden before. In this sense, visual art has the power to evoke a subtle, almost wordless dialogue with our deepest self.

Have you ever merged with an image to the point that you could almost feel the moment it was taken with all your senses?

Can you remember pictures, pieces of music or poems that spoke directly to your soul in an unusually strong way? Have you asked yourself why?

If not, this is my invitation for you today. Send out your intention to find such a picture, song or piece of art into the night sky. Maybe you won’t find it immediately, but it will find you, for sure. When this happens, create the right surrounding to connect to your soul, and then write…

My wish for you is to discover, in this way, another little fragment of the impressive kaleidoscope of who you are with all your facets and shades. ✧˚💎 ༘ ⋆｡˚