I’m sitting here tonight, letting my mind wander.
There is a particular kind of quiet that settles in when you are alone. Sometimes it feels like peace; tonight, it feels a little like loneliness. It’s not a longing for grand gestures or dramatic romance. I’ve discovered that what you miss most aren’t the big things—it’s the little things.
Life, really, is just a collection of little things.
It’s missing that person to turn to and ask, “What did you do today?” or “How did you park the car?”
It’s the simple act of sharing a mundane story. Like last week, driving down to Taviano. I kept stumbling over the name, my tongue getting tied up in the local syllables… Tapiano? No, Taviano. It’s such a silly, small moment. But that is exactly the kind of human fragment I wanted to share with someone.
But in the absence of that person, I found connection in an unexpected place: the dentist.
A Culture of Warmth
I went to Taviano to see Dr. Marco Casto. I sat there watching him, seeing how genuinely excited he was about his new office. He didn’t hire a famous architect to design it; he just built what was in his mind. He manifested his imagination into the real world.
But as I sat there, I realized it wasn’t the walls or the sleek equipment that mattered. It was the feeling.
Even in his old, cramped studio, there was always this beaming friendliness. But this time, I watched it unfold in a beautiful way. I walked in, and Marco was attending to a patient who was clearly in pain—the kind of toothache that usually narrows your world down to a single point of misery.
Yet, when Marco saw me, he stopped and called out, “Ciao Tim! Ciao Tim!”
And then, the magic happened. The patient, despite his pain, looked up and smiled at me. He said hello, too. He wasn’t just a patient; he had been sucked into Marco’s world—a world so warm and welcoming that it momentarily dissolved the barrier of his pain.
We were all just people in a room, connected by a spirit of kindness.
SIDEBAR: The Invisible Backbone
It is easy to look at a local dental office or a small studio and see just one person making a living. But businesses like Marco’s are actually the engine of the entire world.
We often look at the stock market to judge the economy, but the reality is on the ground floor:
- 90% of all businesses worldwide are small to medium-sized enterprises (SMEs).1
- They provide more than 50% of all jobs globally.2
- In many countries, they contribute up to 40% of the national income.3
When a business like Marco’s thrives, it doesn’t just fix teeth. It employs local staff, it supports local suppliers, and it creates a hub of connection in the town. These “small” visions are actually the giants that hold our communities together.
The Art of the Everyday
I’ve been thinking about that moment ever since.
I’m here in Puglia to paint and draw, to build my own studio. We often think of “art” as something that happens on a canvas, but what Marco did was art. He took an internal vision—a feeling of how people should be treated—and he turned it into a physical reality.
It made me look at the world differently. I spent thirty years working with massive corporations, thinking about “big” strategies. But my heart isn’t there anymore.
My joy now is in the small things. The people like Marco who are making a difference for a thousand people in their neighborhood, rather than trying to conquer the universe. These are the true gardeners of our communities. They are the ones who make our towns feel like home.
Tending the Garden
I am still learning how to navigate this last chapter of my life. I want to paint. I want to create. But I also realize I still have a deep desire to help people tend their own plots of land.
I’ve learned the hard way that life is exactly like a garden.
If you don’t look after the garden, weeds will grow.
If you don’t tend to it, things will die.
I let some of my own garden go untended in the past, and I know the cost of that. But I also know the beauty of planting new seeds.
I want to help the “gardeners” of the business world—the small owners, the dreamers, the creators—to clarify their vision. Not just to make money, but to create a life that feels full. To build something that brings them joy, so they can stand in the middle of their garden and feel content.
If you are tending a garden of your own—whether it’s a small business, a creative project, or just a vision for your life—I’d love to hear about it. Let’s share the little things.

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