- Country of Origin: Italy
This poem takes a broad sweep over humanity’s history to remind us that we all live and have lived under the same, universal sun.
I am staring at a beautiful sunset over the Puglian shoreline, with a singer passionately belting out his heart. His voice echoes throughout the resort where I am staying. Sono contento.
This moment feels perfect, filled with a profound sense of oneness. It’s one of those full-circle moments where you understand why you made the choices you did.
Standing on the roof of this Adriatic resort, I have just finished my last day of teaching English to 18 students from across Italy for over 14 days. This unforgettable experience was the culmination of decisions for a trajectory I set myself on over six years ago. At the end of 2017, I decided to leave teaching, feeling I had reached my limit and believing it was better to end on a high note.
Teaching had been good to me, with wonderful co-workers who changed my life and, of course, the students, who were always great, even when they were difficult. Teaching was my world, and I was good at it. It was a calling, like being a nun, monk, or firefighter. You do it not for praise or money, but because you believe you can positively influence the next generation, helping them find their dreams and true happiness so they can serve society beneficially. Grazie.
Reading and writing and filming
Around this time, I rediscovered my passion for screenwriting and filmmaking. I began writing scripts and TV pilots for fun. Friends insisted my writing was funny and enjoyable, which made me think I could pursue this career. I had tried before but was always scared of continuing, opting instead for a steady route that could secure a safe and stable life. However, the dream of becoming a screenwriter had been with me since I was eight years old. I loved movies more than anyone else I knew.
As I got older, I would go to the library and rent 15 to 20 films a week in the summer. I read every film book available, from André Bazin and Jean-Luc Godard, to Federico Fellini, Yasujiro Ozu, and Akira Kurosawa. I paid special attention to books on editing by Walter Murch and screenplays by Woody Allen. This was my world, and anyone who knew me knew this.
When I was 13, instead of having posters of athletes, girls, or bands on the wall (though there were some), I had big, beautiful film posters. Every night as I lay in bed, I would look at these posters, dreaming of the day my own film’s poster would be on the wall. A huge wooden poster of Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” stood across from “L.A. Confidential,” and over my bed was Atom Egoyan’s “The Sweet Hereafter,” a film that changed me as a young writer. Over the years, I collected posters, from the original print of “Return of the Jedi” to Fellini’s “Otto e mezzo” and many Sergio Leone films.
As I grew older, my love for film became just that — a love. No matter what, film will remain with me forever. During this phase, I was fortunate to work as a crew member on several big movies, learning from wonderful filmmakers who became great teachers. One of my fondest memories was working on a Spike Lee film, an experience that taught me so much. However, unlike many, I was not interested in working in Hollywood; I wanted to work in Europe and make films like my heroes. Soon enough, I finished my master’s degree in cinema and directed music videos in Europe.
Success came early, and I felt I was too young to understand what was happening. I changed my career path and took courses to become an English teacher. Throughout this career change, I managed to integrate my love of cinema, making English films in class and writing screenplays or plays on particular English topics. In the background, I kept writing screenplays for an audience of no one, believing my time in cinema was over.
By 2017, I hit a wall in my life. I was engaged and had a great job, but I wanted more money for a secure future. Stupid worries raced through my mind like; “How was I going to afford that Maserati with the V8 Ferrari engine that I had on my vision board?”
Making money
I looked at the job market and saw where I could make more money. I started postgraduate courses in digital marketing, digital product management, platform design, and data analytics. I studied hard and got good grades. Slowly, clients started to come in, and soon I was building my first websites with consulting flowing in. What happened next changed me forever. I took on the role of director of marketing and communications in a startup in Italy. I was successful, and the bosses promised more money, often dangling small rewards in front of me to lure me into working harder to drive their bottom line.
It started with fancy trips to Vienna, then expensive clothes, lavish yacht cruises, and expensive dinners with famous people. I believed I was getting everything I wanted. Every day I came home exhausted, used, and spent. I had no time for my wife, family, or my hobby, screenwriting. I started to get worse, angry, and hungry to prove myself in front of the rich bosses and investors.
Just when I was about to give it up, they bought a Maserati, to which I was one of the few to have access. The first day I drove it, the V8 Ferrari engine roared, reminding me of the picture of the Maserati I had always wanted on my vision board. Now it was here. But after an hour of driving with all eyes on me on the highway, I felt empty. How could this not give me the joy I expected?
I was confused and lost
Then COVID happened, slowing down business and forcing us all to retreat home. With so much time on my hands, I decided to write again. It started with finishing one screenplay, then another and another, and then a book. My wife pushed me to send my work to screenwriting festivals. What happened next was shocking: I started to win, and win a lot, at festivals all over the world. I didn’t need the recognition; I was just having fun writing.
After COVID and a return to some normalcy, I began to reevaluate everything in my life. This job did not fill me with joy, and the bosses never cared about my well-being or even my relationship with my family. I missed the time I had writing; it made me happier and gave my life purpose.
I started to prioritize my family, my writing, my health, and my mental well-being. The company was shocked because I started to care less about the job.
It wasn’t really that I cared less; I was simply doing the work I was hired to do. I still met all deadlines and achieved results. But after 5:00 PM, I left the office and shut my phone off. No late nights answering emails. I started to take holidays and my legal two days off. Of course, they tried to guilt-trip me about my priorities. It was at a yoga retreat in the mountains that I made an ultimatum: I would stay one more year, then quit and focus on writing again.
Aiming higher
It’s been over three months since I quit the job that did not serve my higher purpose. I have had more fulfilling, life-affirming experiences than in six years in a job where I did not matter. During this time, I have sold two screenplays, one of which will be in production in February 2025. I have been to amazing concerts, reconnected with my brother in Barcelona, hiked mountains, surfed, ziplined, gone to waterparks, reconnected with God on a deeper level, joined an American football team, and had the best work experience of my life in Puglia, teaching English to 18 amazing students across Italy who have changed my life.
There are lessons to be learned from chasing money, wealth, and prestige. I learned a lot from all that. For six years, I was on a mission to prove people wrong, to show them how many things I could acquire. This material solace instead created a life devoid of anything meaningful. I failed to see that truly rich people live their purpose.
Purpose, I came to understand, is doing what you love, which serves your higher self and improves the world around you. The joy I now have for life is incomparable to the six years of boredom I experienced while waiting for my profit share. Or the sailboat I was promised. In the end, none of those things materialized, as they were used as false idols to take me away from myself. I realized I always had the most valuable thing in the world within me: my happiness and my freedom.
And so do you. Prego.
Thank you to Tripti Mund, Yosef Baskin, and Emily Delnick for their inspired edits on this piece and everyone else on the Work & Life team.
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JP Morselli
JP is a graduate of Trinity College Dublin, Ireland. He is a writer who published his first children’s book, “The Monk and The Prince” in 2021, and his collection of Christmas short stories comes out in November 2024. He has ghost-written for comedians and directors.
He has also script-doctored on many films including most recently, “La Voz del Sol” and an upcoming film for Amazon. He just finished writing his 7th TV pilot. His latest feature-length script, “Bombing in the Alps,” set in Switzerland, is currently in development. He is set to make his feature-length directorial debut with his Korean language screenplay “Sunrise.”