Futtitini: A Sicilian answer to modern stress
I have a favourite Sicilian word. It doesn’t translate nicely into English, but here’s my best attempt: f*ck it, don’t worry about it. We have sayings in English that are a little milder. ‘ There is no point crying over spilt milk.’ Or, ‘There is no point shutting the stable door once the horse has bolted.’ The Sicilians are more economical with words for this sentiment.
Futtitini.
Said with feeling, often with hand gestures unique to Sicilians and Italians in general. It’s stronger than “don’t sweat the small stuff.” It’s more final than “let it go.” It means: this problem is not worth what it is currently costing you. Put it down. Walk away. Have a coffee.
I hear it in the market when a vendor’s scale is off by twenty grams. Everyone knows it, but everyone just shrugs. I hear it when a wedding goes on for two hours and nobody checks a watch. I hear it, most often, from old men on plastic chairs who have watched governments fall, currencies change, and crops fail, and who are still, somehow, drinking their coffee in peace.
Sicily did not invent indifference. It refined it into a survival skill, and I think the rest of the world could use a lesson.
The problem with modern stress
Modern stress is different from old stress. Old stress was a bad harvest. You could see it, smell it, argue with it. Modern stress is a notification. It is invisible, constant, and multiplies while you sleep. Your inbox does not care that you went to bed. Neither does the group chat, the app that wants a five-star review, or the algorithm deciding whether to push your posts or not.
Futtitini was built for a world with fewer, bigger problems. We live in a world with infinite, tiny ones. The word still works. It just needs a manual. Here’s mine.
The futtitini Sicilian survival guide
1. The Inbox that regenerates overnight -You did not create this inbox. You inherited it, the way you inherit a leaky roof from a previous owner. Apply futtitini. Answer what matters before ten in the morning. Ignore the rest until it either resolves itself or becomes someone else’s emergency. Most things become someone else’s emergency.
2. The group chat with forty unread messages – Somewhere in Sicily, a family group chat is currently discussing whether Zia Rosa’s tomato sauce needs more basil, a debate that has been running for six years. Nobody reads all forty messages. Nobody needs to. Skim for your name. If it is not there, futtitini.
3. The deadline that multiplied – One deadline is a fact. Six deadlines on the same day is a design flaw, and it is not your design flaw to fix by staying up until three in the morning. Do the one that costs you the most if it is late. Futtitini the rest, and let tomorrow’s version of you deal with tomorrow’s problem. She is more rested and better equipped.
4. The opinion of a stranger on the Internet – Someone on the Internet has called him an idiot for his post on Social Media. That someone is Sicilian. He shrugs, pours himself a coffee, and moves on with his day, having already forgotten the exchange. He did not go home and think about it for a week. Neither should you if there are similar comments under your posts.
5. The thing you cannot control at all – Weather. Traffic. Other people’s moods. The plane being delayed. Sicily has taught this for three thousand years, through Greeks, Arabs, Normans, Spanish, and several earthquakes: some things are simply weather. You do not negotiate with weather. You bring a coat, or you don’t, and either way the rain doesn’t care.
What it is not
Futtitini is not giving up. The man with the wrong scale still weighs your fruit the next day. The family still shows up for the funeral, the wedding, the Sunday lunch that runs four hours. It is not indifference to what matters. It is refusal to spend the same coin on everything.
The hard part is knowing which is which. I’m still working on it myself. But start small. Start with the inbox.
And the next time something ruins your morning that won’t matter by Friday? You know what to say because here in Sicily, it is said all the time, and life is a lot simpler.
Kate
Kate writes Letters from Sicily from her coastal farm on the island, where the olive trees are heavy with fruit in October, six cats supervise everything, Fergus the Jack Russell believes every visitor has arrived especially to see him, and another letter is already beginning to take shape.
