St. Ambrose counseled St. Augustine saying “Sī fuerīs Rōmae, Rōmānō vīvitō mōre; sī fuerīs alibī, vīvitō sīcut ibī.” Translated, it is something like, “If you should be in Rome, live in the Roman manner; if you should be elsewhere, live as they do there.” Or as we know it today, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

Now, I’m not in Rome but in Venice. Truth be told, I’m shocked at how easily I attempt to adopt the customs and manners of the place I’m visiting. I don’t think it has always been this way (in fact, I know it hasn’t), but these days, and at this slow pace of life, it is far more enjoyable to go with the flow and do as the Venetians do while in Venice.

So here I am, wearing a loosely buttoned linen shirt, sitting at a café overlooking the Grand Canale, smoking a cigarette, sipping an Aperol Spritz. I gotta tell you, life feels pretty good at this speed.

But the reality is, as one on vacation, this is rarely, if ever, the speed of things. Much like life back home, the tension and desire to constantly be on the move, to get to the next thing, and to make sure you don’t miss out can be overwhelming. No one wants to hear about how you just sat at a coffee shop for hours pondering the good, the true, and the beautiful. After all, I could have stayed at home and accomplished that. No, there is supposed to be action and photographic proof of your adventure appropriately posted to Instagram.

But when we can resist the urge for action and get over the need to be entertained constantly, we can settle into a space that allows for reflection—a space filled with wonder and story. Behind the hustle and flow of the neverending stream of tourists is the heart of the place that sits still among the conversations and habits of the locals, among the old traditions that created the foundations of this place.

I suppose the real magic of any location isn’t simply in the impressive architecture or the overwhelming artistic interpretations of the divine but in the real life and experiences of those who created such things. Or even those who live beneath their shadows. There is power in creation. It has been argued (most vehemently by my wife) that what it means for man to be made in the image of God is for man to be given the second word of creation. That is, while man cannot create out of nothing, man is still a creator; primarily, he names the things of the world, and by naming, he gives them shape, definition, and purpose. Perhaps this naming is by carving stone into majestic statues, painting wonderful masterpieces, composing moving music, writing powerful verse, or simply speaking to a friend while smoking a cigarette and enjoying an espresso.

It just might be that these simple conversations that go unnoticed in the background are often some of the most potent creative forces we experience. And just maybe, great art is trying to bring them into focus for the rest of us. Conversations of life and struggle, of the sacred and the profane, are the stories of our world, and these stories are the scaffold of our creative expression. They enable others to share our experiences over great expanses of time and even separated by language and culture.

One of the great lessons I am learning these days is to simply slow down. Slow down and listen, slow down and spend time in good conversation, slow down and experience the stories of those living in the shadows, those who know of the uncrowded streets and where to get great cicchetti. For here are the stories of life; here are the seeds of creation. Here, we learn how to live differently than we currently do. And perhaps that is the greatest experience of all.