(#034) What’s truly important
This week was in a category of its own.
Something happened in my life—my family’s life—that called for a moment of silence.
I won’t go into the details, because I don’t feel comfortable doing so. But I’ll say this:
I considered pausing my weekly post.
Just for a week. To reflect. To hit pause on this creative, therapeutic, disciplined habit—out of respect for what occurred, and what it represents.
Then it occurred to me:
there’s no better time than this to reflect.
To say out loud that some things matter more than others, and we must remain vigilant in knowing which is which.
Since I don't wish to elaborate on the specific circumstances of this week, I’ll instead revisit a far less dramatic moment from 2023—one that, nonetheless, led me to the very same conclusion.
***
In the winter of 2023, not long after moving to Milan with my family—and not long after stepping away from my directorships and remaining ties to Alleans Renewables, the company I founded in 2017 and sold in 2020—I was in the thick of rediscovering life beyond work.
I was finally getting the upper hand on persistent back problems I’d been dragging along since the spring of 2017, when a severe L5-S1 herniation had me tied to a bed for two months. I was playing trumpet with religious discipline—an hour a day, weekly sessions with fellow musicians, and even attending one of the best music schools in town. I had resumed weekly street photography, was laying a foundation in videography, and conceived the Tokyo9 project—a long-form journey that reignited my lifeline to Asia after my departure in 2022. I was also connecting more deeply and frequently with friends, both new and old, fully aware that this wasn’t leisure. It was sustenance.
I was rediscovering layers and colors of life I’d left behind twenty years earlier, when work—and the pursuit of success—left little room for anything else.
Financially, I was stable. I had enough savings to lean on and put to work—and 2023 had been a great year for the markets. With a bit of discipline—I figured—I could afford to enjoy the open space in front of me and start asking the big question: What’s next?
I was also fully aware of how lucky I was—to have my health, a home, my family, my friends. I had won the jackpot.
I felt so calm and confident in the face of those who invest their life in the pursuit of greater wealth at the expense of these foundational blessings.
Then, on December 14th, walking home from a physiotherapy session, brain fully oxygenated, muscles delightfully sore, I found myself reflecting on the advantages of wealth and how it allows you to afford the best.
Whether it’s healthcare, wellness, transportation, education, restaurants, or hotels—being able to afford excellence isn’t just preferable. It makes for a better life.
I’m not suggesting that 'expensive' is always a proxy for 'good'—I don’t believe that—but often enough, excellence does come at a price. And more often than not, it’s worth the effort to earn what it takes to afford it.
In Italy, this kind of thinking is unpopular. We're steeped in a culture saturated with Catholic paradigms, and so secular wealth and power—especially when reserved for an elite, with no clear path for the less fortunate to catch up—are often seen as shameful, even sinful. To value money is to endanger your soul. It’s seen as morally suspect.
But I had worked my way out of that mentality. I can admit, freely and honestly, that I am drawn to making money—lots of money—and to affording the best.
And so that day a question stopped me in my tracks: how could I reconcile the fact that I had willingly left behind a stable income—my old job—to dive again into the uncertainties of entrepreneurship, when I knew that money mattered? And—even more importantly—how can I find wealth so important when the core theme of the last several years of my life has been fighting to regain balance with my health, family, and friendships, at the expense of financial success.
And then it hit me.
Life is made of two kinds of things: some things are truly important, while others are vital pursuits.
The truly important things are few and clear:
Strong physical and mental health;
A family built on love, loyalty, and principle;
A circle of genuine friends we can be fully open with; and
A sense of purpose.
Almost everything else is not truly important.
The curse of the fortunate one is that once the first three truly important things are in place, the fourth one can fall vacant!
Once you’re healthy, your family is well, and your friendships are real and present—then what? What’s your purpose? What will your pursuit be?
We need meaning and direction like we need food and air.
That’s when ambition—for wealth, power, creativity, recognition—becomes not just desirable, but necessary. It gives us tension, movement, forward momentum. It makes us agents of change, pushing into new terrain, it keeps us from stalling.
The most valuable talent one can have is the ability to switch nimbly and seamlessly between two perspectives:
swiftly put our essential pursuits on the side to focus on what’s truly important every time the formers come at the expense of the latter—and switch back to our essential pursuits as if they were our lifeline and pour our hearts and minds into achieving something great and of meaning—whenever our house is in order.
***
What happened this week was irreversible. A harrowing event for my family.
And yet, as is often the case, loss sharpens awareness.
It reminded me how lucky I am.
I’ve never been healthier.
I’m married to the woman I love—my true one.
I’m surrounded by friends with bonds that have lasted, and strengthened, for twenty years or more.
And these are all things I’ve worked very hard to build.
I still have the desire to live large and build something great. But the things that are truly important? I already have them. And saying that out loud felt more appropriate than staying silent.
~ This one was dedicated to my family ~
L.F
