Questions and Conversations with Leo

The other day Leo (now 14 plus, tall, shaving, with serious physical presence) asked me what I'd most appreciated about the men I've dated/lived with/married. I'm not sure exactly where this came from. Perhaps brought about by my extolling the pleasure I took in seeing an old friend from university the other day, in being with someone who's loved me (as a friend) for over 20 years? How restful and wonderful it made me feel. I who seem to be so often in the opposite situation of being with people who are in their initial experience of me, judging, observing, wondering, discovering, etc.,

Or, more likely, Leo is simply growing up and considering what it is to be in a relationship and what a woman (me being the archetype of such for him) looks for, loves, wants in a man. We've discussed this before, but here we were getting quite specific.

So, first there was the serious university and early adult relationship I had. What did we have together? well, intellectual equality, the same age, a great friendship, we could truly count on each other, a very powerful bond and attraction. What didn't work? Numerous friends who didn't like us being together, and for some odd reason, the feeling that we weren't really more as a couple then we were individually. [Leo got a bit hung up on one detail -- as this person worked at Microsoft and had stock options, etc., Leo thinks that if we'd stayed together I'd be rich now. That this isn't something that came into play for me then or now is hard for Leo to understand. But yes, I get it that he'd like us to be better off.]

Next up, my kids' father: On the plus side, a great partner for creating two businesses and putting two children on this earth. I became more, and learned more alongside him; I tapped talents in myself that I'd been completely unaware of. We complemented each other and balanced each other, for a time. I'll not go into the negative here. Suffice to say, we still get along very very well, but being married to each other was/is no longer viable.

And then my vintner: A powerful attraction, much to learn, the chance to be truly female again. Negatives - his age, his inflexibility, our being out of sync on many levels (i.e. raising and caring for kids!!).

And currently, a lovely man with whom I dance the tango very well, who is an attentive and invested father to his boys and who has a great sense of humor.  That we're close in age and on the same track raising kids is a major plus. The hard parts? physical distance, busy schedules, not a lot of time together, and I'm still alone raising my boys (which is something I've more or less accepted at this point).

And so, with this list Leo asked me, if you put all the good elements together would that make the perfect man for you? Um, yes, are you going to put an ad out for me?

New possibilities

Do I dare write about it? Do I go there? Yes, I'm in a new relationship. One that seems quite different from what I lived for 2 1/2 years. It is calmer. He has children, two boys like myself. And thus from the get-go the kids are part of the equation. Mine are excited. Leo tells me (no doubt from this past year's experience with me thrice in the doldrums) that we are not to break up! It should be the right one. He is so sure of things at 13! Jonas follows suit. And, I must say that his kids have taken to me quickly. Now it's up to the adults to find their bearings, to see if we've projects in common, to contemplate what the future might bring. How gun-shy are we, how ready to believe, to trust, to go forth? I know that for myself the weekend thing will not be enough. I truly want to live as a family again, and why not with two more children? I do well with plenty of small/medium-size ones around and enjoy the nurturing, the observing, the educating. But he? We'll see.

And yet, I hold dearly to the independence I've regained, the joys of being more with my girl-friends, with myself, the projects I would like to develop here in Avignon, close to my home. I have my center, my integrity, myself and my personal dreams -- my vocational passion as Barbara Marx Hubbard states -- to nourish and bear.

There are books and articles aplenty these days on reformed families, familles recomposées. I browse through them, though I've definitely already contemplated the many variations and trials that such a choice clearly thrusts upon one. I'm up for it. I think.

And so, I observe how he raises his kids, I see his value system, I test his house rhythms and I check into mine. Will they dove-tail?

Slowly, slowly into the fray. Dancing gently and surely, allowing for space, contemplating, learning, communicating, testing. It's just not the same as when you're young and naive, ready to start a family, nor perhaps when you're older and established, the kids long gone from the nest.

Day by day.

A Moment of Melancholy

Ah yet again I am traveling both physically and psychically between countries and worlds. And I wonder... how much effort have I put into being in France? into making things work and coping? And how at ease did I feel back in Michigan these past few weeks? How effortless it was to be respected and accomplished in my fields, to communicate, to be. I was a tad less the outsider that I had so felt last year. I observed, but not like an alien, more in appreciation for what I find so lovely and heart-warming.

Much of the past year, whether in the US or France, I've been observing. It got way out of hand noticing how people dress, what they eat, the level of conversation, how couples seem to work, how children are raised, what daily rhythms resemble, values, goals.... But that's where I've been. Inside and outside at the same time.

While in the US I put on a few pounds -- eating lots more pasta, bread and ice cream, not to mention blueberry and cherry pies than I normally do. Yoga every other day didn't compare to the amount I normally walk each day in Avignon. I gradually left more and more of my elegant clothes in the closet and switched to comfy jeans, shorts and t-shirts. Fewer décolletés, flat sandals, no make-up. I adapted. I read novels and went canoeing. I fed and did dishes and socialized with family and friends.

I visited many -- so often women who are achieving their dreams, making chocolate, making goat cheese, writing cook books, running a fabulous Italian deli.

It felt good.

From a few conversations -- and yes, observations -- I truly do believe that chivalry is more present in Northern Michigan than in Provence. Single women get helped -- with putting away boats, chopping wood, shoveling snow, etc., This is a world that helps he/she who needs it. The Frontier spirit of helping out, and receiving help. Collaborating to survive.

How many times did JP notice that I had to fix my car, work on the house, etc., and simply state that I'd better find someone competent to do that for me over in my neighborhood. If he hadn't the skills to do so, I wouldn't have found that so annoying, nor if I truly had had the funds to hire such people would it have been so hurtful. But, under the circumstances...

Here in Provence in little ways men are attentive -- opening doors, tipping their hats, quick to compliment on your looks, flirt, etc., But for the big things? Well, it's not easy. Most are stressed and over-worked, so, cope on your own. I'm lucky in that Erick still helps out on occasion, and that I've a superb plumber (whom I pay correctly). My neighbor has his moments, but being 'lunatique', i.e. moody, I don't count on him.

What I also truly admired in the US was the level of complicity, respect and genuine admiration and trust I witnessed in a number of marriages. Marriages of equals. It wasn't a game of the sexes, but partnerships. I've not felt that here. Perhaps I've simply had bad luck, or??

Then again, I'm amused by the ease with which many American friends use vulgar language and references, which are just not the norm amongst my French acquaintances. While sailing on a hobi-cat the water surged up through the middle of the canvas. I likened it to a water massage for cellulite (thalassotherapie anyone?). And I heard back the comment more commonly used in this family that it was a Lake Enema. Hmmmm.

There are other examples: my morning ritual includes grabbing a kleanex and blowing my nose; a friend commented that his includes taking a good crap. Oh... did I need to hear that? Yes, I'm a bit shy on these matters, perhaps equally amused and perturbed.

And so as I unpack all that I'd put away for the summer rentals, re-invest my Provence home with my belongings, my photos of my children, I feel a touch of melancholy, nostalgia, and cultural dislocation. A yearly rite of passage, or?

Images come to mind

Okay, I'm not going to obsess, but as you can imagine, seeing JP for the first time in two months set images turning in my brain. The one that seems most true, most potent to me is the following:

I see him as hard, dur, placing limits, strict demands, exigeances, sticking to what is correct, ordonné, structured, rational, definable, negotiable (on his terms), holding to the good manners of his upbringing, holding to his status in his local society.

I see myself as fluid -- where he puts up walls, and sets strict limits, I infiltrate. When he tries to box me in I overflow. Where there's warmth I expand.

But, where he tried to impose his structure on me, to rigidify me, I became brittle, fragile, breaking like ice.

Taking this image a step further, is he earth? and if so, clay? baked clay? dried clay? glazed? Does his hardness hold water? absorb water? or become soft with the addition of water? -- At the moment, I'd say the first. But who knows, someday perhaps he'll get over some of his issues and open up to a future person. I wish him well.

Being an ex-girlfriend

I say this in jest. And yet not. Wednesday this week I brought four quiches and a pan of ginger sablet cookies to the winery as my contribution to the reception of 15 Japanese guests and wine importers and general all-round wine drinkers. Long ago when this date was set we'd agreed that I'd do half the preparation and assist in receiving this particular group (after all I do speak Japanese). And so, even after the break-up, we agreed that we'd still do this hosting together.

I'm pleased -- and proud -- to say all went quite well. Dietary restrictions were accounted for (vegetarian and lactose intolerant), all were fed and watered and entertained in the manner hoped for.

It was weird and a bit tense to be there working alongside JP. And yet it was also extremely easy and fluid. In this context we work well together and always have. Whether it's setting the table, doing last minute cleaning (the windows were more than a bit dusty), dressing the salad, serving, clearing, passing, etc., we divvy up the tasks like the partners we used to be.

He wondered if his importers had noticed the difference in our behavior. And I had to break it to him that they called me 'okusama' (honorable wife) and repeatedly inquired/stated how lovely and relaxed living in such a place must be. I corrected them a couple of times, saying this was his house, that mine was in Avignon, etc., But hey, after a while, it gets a bit tedious. Let them have their dream. The photo sessions after the meal were amusing though -- obviously with the vintner, and then with me, and then between us.

We spoke a tiny bit outside of the situation, JP and I. We quickly got past the how've you been? and the family? and sales? etc., etc., He told me he's been working his way slowly through the Hendrick Harville book on couples -- but found some of the examples pretty extreme (judgement, judgement...). I encouraged him, and made a couple apropos comments as to how interesting it was for me to realize the various issues I have to work on/accept in myself, and that his presence in my life had been just the ticket to bring them to light.

He was a touch miffed that his importer hadn't been more attentive to the relationship between them -- it being now over ten years that they've worked together and seen each other in their mutual countries. They'd barely exchanged a word throughout the afternoon. I agreed with him that it is an ideal to have professional relationships also be friendships, and not always attainable. He was also distressed that the group climbed into the bus without saying proper goodbyes to him (they had to me though.. but I'd followed them out to the bus). I reminded him that he'd been aside looking at the map with the chauffeur, and that in good Japanese style, he should have been by the bus door saluting them as they departed. It was not their habit to come looking for the host to say a special goodbye. Thus a brief exchange between us on the outward appearance of good manners versus true sincerity and affection (tut tut... that could apply to another I know...)

We then got to work cleaning all and everything and putting his house back into order. I then took my cases of wine, my bottles of olive oil and some freshly washed salad (he'd purchased too much) and with a short hug (my initiative, but he responded well to it). I was on my way. No need to extend the visit beyond its purpose.

As I drove home, I mulled over our short conversations, the ease of working together, the fact that yes, the attraction is still there, but so are all the reasons we're not a couple any more. And I left him back there to his house, his family, his mother, his fragile ankle, his strict manners, and all that he has built and chosen.

Erick called me then, and I confirmed that the people arriving at his house were to pay him directly -- thus a profitable evening -- for the cooking class. And I said to myself, goodness, what a truly superb ex-wife and girlfriend I am. Not only do I not harbor bitterness nor torture them nor make them suffer, I even contribute to their bank accounts! Can I rightly be proud of this? Or is that rather perverse?

In any case, it is likely to be me cooking dinner for his wine tasting weekend in July. T'would be a job I would enjoy. Matching food to wine is always fun.

The Rare Quiet Morning

I slept in this morning slothfully reveling in the indulgent pleasure of staying horizontal, abed, as the birds sang their chorus and quietened, as the chill of the morning air through the delicate light evolved into warmth and strong rays of the Eastern sun. The only glitch: a dog in need of his morning outing. But, happily, I can descend three stairwells, open a door and climb back up and still find a way to return to slumber. After the second descent (in response to sharp and insistent barks at three minute intervals) I acknowledged a need for verticality, or at the very least, a gentle move towards awakening.

A call from Erick confirmed this. Clients lost on the Place Voltaire, and a morning's class to add my two bits to.

But here I am, an hour and a half later, quietly soaking in the light, the tweets and twirts of a family of swallows over my head, nesting beneath the roof tiles, the hum of the swimming pool motor, a dog, now quiet, resting at my feet. My cup of tea has been drunk, my cup of mocha -- a treat for this Saturday morn -- but a third gone.

I couldn't resist going to my strawberry patch -- unbelievably generous this year! and Jonas's favorite task of the day -- to pick this morning's bounty (the kids being with Erick). I weeded as I plucked the strawberries, admiring the abundance and somewhat chaotic state of my little garden. It's time to pluck out some of that garlic, I wonder if the potatoes are ready? Or should I wait? The peas are few, but giving as they might. The mint is yearning to take over (as are the strawberries). The squash and melon plants are multiplying and growing. The tomato plants are doing their thing.

Hands covered in dirt, (no time to put on gloves) slippers a bit damp, I rinsed off the berries and added them to my morning's repast.

New rhythms are coming into my life, over and beyond a quiet Saturday morning in my home in Provence. Lovely O came for the fourth Friday in a row to share our afternoon exchange of English conversation for practicing her newly acquired skills of Thai massage. Her new friendship is one of the gifts I am cherishing in this period of my life. She is living a new couple, and pondering its impact upon herself and her son, whether they should move in, what attracts her to him, frustrates her about him, etc., They've been together exactly a year, and yet... it is not yet clear. Is it ever?

She is my opposite, and yet very much like me. We are both highly sensitive, porous, quick to be hurt by criticism (not the fighting types), artistic, deeply connected to our bodies (she is a dancer by training), attentive if relaxed parents. And we're both on the path of moving through this life either accompanied or not, but certainly not from an early age the wife of one man.

She is very beautiful. My age, fluid, radiant, very much the wanderer and the dancer. She is the free spirit, frightened of restraints, of caging, of being held back, very much in need of space, time, trust. Her man is what is described here as "fusionel". He believes when in love, you do everything together, and when she emits a desire for a day at the beach, accompanied only by her small son and no one else, or the need to sleep alone at her home to gather her wits/ se resourcer, he is hurt, offended, and at times, suspicious, méfiant.

What a way to put things in perspective for me, and to reflect upon what I've learned these past few months. I offer her the guidance I might. That being opposites, perhaps they can each help the other find a middle ground, make tentative steps in the other's direction, be kind, offer understanding, gently work through their respective histories and issues. And yet I hear her and I see that though he is good, generous, kind, interesting, tender... she is frustrated by what we'd say in English, his clinging, and what I find even more powerful, his lack of trust in her.

In my past relationship I wanted more, and he wanted less. Though I was far more tolerant of space needs, silence, separate outings, separate lives than this man. I had wanted a partner to grow with, to create with, to share my life and his. O is ready for this, and eager to participate in his business, to help him with her skills and person. She is also ready for the stability he represents. But they quite clearly have their hurdles to leap.

We'll see where they end up. As she speaks of his reactions, I remember my readings and suggest that rather than close up, be frustrated, etc., when he reacts strongly to her desire to have time alone, quietly suggest to him that he look again at himself and why this button is so tender, why he bursts into distrust and fear when she expresses a very banal and simple need to have time in her own head, by herself. Gently, with understanding, will he hear her? Or will the personal filtering mechanism impede any absorption of her reason?

We are all at such different stages of personal development. Our issues and fears are powerful and hold dearly to their existence. The ego is firmly in place and though glimmers of light and hope are there, freeing the soul, regaining clarity, openness, trust, strength... it is all so tricky. Sometimes we take baby steps, sometimes we fall back into the trenches, sometimes we leap forward, sometimes we shore up the cracks in our walls, no matter the potential light they offer.

And yet I do appreciate the idea that we are attracted to precisely the person that can help us see and work through these fears and extremes. However, only if we are willing to see the conflicts they bring to our lives as means of learning and evolving, rather than annoyances and reasons for departing.

This week also brought me the joy of more friends, and more confirmations of finally being on a sane and healthy path for me. The question has come up, for myself and for other women friends in similar points in their lives. What is my personal path? When do you cease to live for yourself, putting your husband/man and children ahead of you, and when can you, must you, will you, regain your footing and find the sense and justice of your own presence on this earth?

Up to this point, I've easily adopted a place beside others, adapting my pace to the ambition of another, be it Erick or JP. With Erick, it made sense, and we built, evolved and created. But with JP it was a dead end. Oh, I came away from this coupledom with far increased knowledge of the wine world, with tango steps in my feet, with experiences exploring the Gard and the Cévennes, not to mention Venice. But, sharing a life truly with him was not my path. And little by little, it became drastically clear that being with him impeded me from finding my own path.

And so, what is it? What is my very own path? That is the question.

I have lived forty four years as a woman without an absolute notion or ambition for a precise field of study or course; i.e. I never dreamed of being a veterinarian, or of having a family of 5 kids and living in the suburbs, or of exploring the Amazon.

When you are open to many possibilities, and take pleasure in equal numbers, when you enjoy people, but also revel in time on your own, when you find basic jobs in offices not to your liking, and thankfully have the skills and education to scrounge about pretty well, when you want to raise your kids well but not fall into dire poverty... when you've chosen to live abroad and are surrounded by amazing friends, when you've a house you love and whose tending enriches your soul... what is the path to take? Am I carving one? clearing away the brush? or following bunny trails that lead to dead ends?

I'm meditating on this, and receiving -- ever so gently -- nudges from the universe, nuggets of ideas coming together, a rightness for a future direction.

Monica came this week and read my cards. As always, she gave me strength and joy simply by being here. Her powers as a medium/seer are potent. I hear what she communicates, wondering which portions will play out (in every instance, there have been true sightings that were proved in the months that followed, but just as much, sightings of possible paths that I didn't end up following). But just as marvelous is the energy she transfers to me when I am in her presence. She has seen me through my divorce, through the purchase of the house, through my anxiety for the boys, through the turmoil of my times with JP. She saw the complete and total confusion of last summer when truly I had no idea where I would end up, still attached emotionally to JP but knowing it wasn't right, looking to find someone in the part of the US I love most, Northern Michigan.

This time, the cards were particularly wonderful, except where JP was concerned. She said you're done with him, he limited you, his life is not yours. It was good luck that brought him into your life at a time you needed urging and momentum to divorce, and now it is good luck that is removing him from your life. Let go, and find yourself. You are the butterfly emerging from your chrysalis. You have projects ahead of you. You are surrounded by supportive and wonderful women friends, and present and attentive sons. Pursue your project(s), they can work, find the accountant/legal adviser to help you put it together. The B&B should sell this summer, and thus you'll have the necessary funds to advance. Enjoy being where you are, there are men in your future, perhaps even a choice of two. Not to worry, you attract them easily enough. Beware of anyone who is radin (stingy), or too old. What you seek is what you deserve: true sharing, support, encouragement, being more as a couple then you are alone, someone who can accept all that you are and not simply permit but enrich the full expression of your essence.

The part of the deck came up again and again in the most positive way: the two most beautiful cards. I'll put it here. Champagne flutes of celebration, and the spider who reaches to the energy of the sun, brings it down through her spun threads and enriches life here on Earth.

So now, it's up to me to realize this potential, n'est-ce pas?

Sorting through things

I'm taking quite a bit of time to be with myself. I suppose I'm in mourning, but also aware that I've time on my hands and in my head which I've not had in years. I'm in my own space, mistress of my self, my potential, my rhythms.

I'm listening to books on tape, reading, learning, exchanging, seeking. I've discovered Jean Houston Ph. D. and I'm reveling in her transformation of the self via the rich archetypes of myth and exploration. I'm devouring her book on Isis and Osiris now, with more to come. A rich source of intellectual stimulation, a world of myth and archeology, thought and discovery, seeking and giving, reaching out. If you're not familiar with her, she co-wrote Hillary Clinton's 'It Takes a Village.' There are many interviews with her available on ITunes, and over 25 books to open and explore. She of course has her own web site, jeanhouston.org.

I am gathering strength from hers, from her experiences, from her gifts to this world. It is inspiring to listen to and read the words of a woman so alive to her time and her world, to our world and the many many individuals and cultures within it. Amongst other things, she is very gifted at adapting her voice to include the accents of the many people who've crossed her path. A born story-teller. Thus, inspired, enriched, I take a further step forward on this confusing and not always clear path. But so did Isis... so did Odysseus. So many of us come to a time in our life of crisis, confusion and a need to simply put one step in front of the other, though the end goal is somewhere off in the distance, hidden by clouds of dust and debris.

And, I am reading and seeking on the subject of couples, of what a couple could be, of the conscious relationship (John Welgood, author of Journey of the Heart) and the possibilities for growth within a couple. Not to be neglected in all this is the reasons we are attracted to another. Whether we like it or not, it is very difficult to avoid early programming and a future relationship offered to us, chosen by us, to learn, go beyond, overcome, deal with and explore our personal histories, imprinted upon our psyches and manipulating us in so many little ways.

So, it is no surprise (apparently) that I was attracted to someone who resembled my father over and beyond being tall, slim and graceful socially., And, it follows that he shared many of the characteristics that so hurt me ages ago. Time to relive, uncover, deal with, get over, forgive and go forth. So, I offer thanks to a partner who brought these aspects of my self to light, and pushed me, somewhat painfully, to acknowledge them and respect their power over me (which I dearly hope is not permanent, but that depends upon the work I'm able to achieve on my own).

And, it is no surprise that I heard when I was apparently most in conflict with him, something along the lines of, "just like my mother..." Oh yes, I was there to bring up his issues too. Did we deal with these? I don't think we particularly succeeded. But then we were blind and innocent to these dimensions. It is scary when the wondrous part of a love affair becomes tenuous. We seek to hold onto it, and are not aware of the lessons that are pouring forth in the ever multiplying moments of conflict, confusion, frustration, fear and upset.

I've read through the French translation of Hendrick Harville's book on couples. Hmmm very dense, very intense, and very informative. Both he and John Welgood hold out the hope that through a relationship that forces light upon our darkest corners, we can work through them. However, a serious commitment is necessary, and a willingness to brave the hard parts.

As I learn, I also work to let go. I am not a being filled with anger, but with sadness. And yes, forgiveness and letting go is all part of the process of healing.

To add to the recipe, I've started a short path with a therapist skilled in PNL or NLP -- Neuro-Linguistic Programming (or reprogramming as the case might be). He also dabbles in genealogy therapy where you go back through your family tree seeking patterns that you are repeating, not necessarily of your making, but part of the package of your origins.

I'm unable to do only one thing, but pile it all one atop another. And, I'm hearing similar things from each. I am told to re-incarnate my body, to let go of my hyper-mental/intellectual bent (particularly as I've an issue with self-control and weeping). This is terribly difficult as I've always found solace in books and information. I love to learn, I am passionate about stories, I can listen, read and explore for years on end. But sit down and cry? Um, that's very very difficult.

And so, I've also been to see an osteopath (chiropractor/healer by any other name) who is rather marvelous, and who noticed that my kidneys were low, particularly that one linked to my father (surprise), but also one linked a touch to my mother (not as bad off, I assure you). She used cranio-sacral techniques to push my spirit back down through my skull into my body (interesting) and did a number of crick cracks on my neck, shoulders, sacrum and mid-back. I think she thought I might break down in her office. But that was not the case. However, I certainly departed fully aware of my body, and physically quite weary! Alas, with such work and manipulation of my being, going out dancing on Friday was just not possible.

I recount this all in a flow as I write in such a fashion, but though it might feel that I'm pouring layers and layers down, swirling them into a mix of confusion and manic energy, such is actually not the case. I am calmer and more present to the moment than I've been in a very long time. I am honest with where I am, aware of the mornings that are rather difficult, the pleasures of walking in the woods, the need to do yoga, meditate, be with dear friends, offer help and focus myself on my impending visits from clients.

Amidst all this, the kids are getting good food, lots of fresh bread, muffins, quiches and lasagna, chicken with honey, curried stews... and my car is getting the air conditioning fixed, and wine is being shipped off to be sampled in Seattle and Portland, OR. Remarkably, I'm coping really rather well.

Even in the physical realm. My kitchen floor has been stripped down and repainted (last weekend) a lovely brick red, and my garden is expanding with squash, tomatoes and melon seeds all planted before our week of daily rain storms.

But so it is for many a single mom. We cope with our emotional crises as we are able, and in coping with them, we liberate the energy necessary to care for others, go forth, advance, and stride through this life.

A Broken Plate - Une Assiètte Cassée

Are you one of those people who fixes broken plates? Do you patiently conserve all the pieces till you've got a free moment, a new bottle of super glue and then sit down and put back together that puzzle? It's a very Humpty Dumpty moment.

Of course, there is a brief moment of satisfaction when you succeed, after holding it together, pressing carefully, lining up those edges. But then you use it as you use all things, and it gets food on it, and put in the dish washer, and put away in stacks. All as if it were truly as good as new.

But it isn't, and inevitably, the day will come when it breaks again. Do you try to repair it again? or do you toss it? I suppose each person is different in this. Feng Shui masters toss broken pottery. It is bad luck. But there are those of us with a rather tenacious nature, and endless belief in the possible.

Yes, I'm one of the latter. I can listen, respect and observe the other point of view, but when it comes down to it, I repair the broken and try again, often two or three times, before the inevitable catches up to me.

What is this leading up to? Can you intuit? Yes, at long last, a separation that might have been cleaner and done with back in October, that had another chance in February, finally occurred for good yesterday evening.

And so, I face the world again as a single woman. Though in many ways I've been such now for quite some time, I did enjoy simply being part of a couple and having the occasional bit of help around my house, garden, etc., It was nice to make reference to mon homme, mon vigneron, etc.,

However, I am far richer in friends and possibilities than before. The cracks in the plate had prepared me for this moment. And so onward. I will still dance -- the Salsa with my girl friend, Tango with the supremely friendly Avignon-based association l'Ilôt Tango. The weather is splendid -- I always have a sense of coming back to life in the spring. My rose bush will soon be blossoming, and I've lots of work touring coming up in the next couple of months.

I'm a bit disoriented, sad, out-of-sorts. As usual, I've lost my appetite. But this is passagère.

Along the way I told myself that apparently I chose this man and remained in this relationship to learn something. And I do think I have absorbed a few lessons. He is far stricter and more disciplined than I, nearly rigid, but honest and straightforward, nothing slippery. He had a deep sense of autonomy and required that of me. He was as clear as his mastery of language allowed him to be in stating what he was looking for and in communicating with me. This didn't always make things easy. Blunt communication not being a favorite of mine. Nuances have their value...

From him I also learned quite a bit socially and culturally about his part of the French world, the world of the land-owner in a small Southern town, the life and style of apaysan. A girlfriend points out that had he opened his heart to love my children, to help me raise them, that might have jeopardized his own childrens' inheritance -- his land. He would have been torn and that could not be allowed to occur. Thus, to prevent any betrayal of his own blood, simply avoid the issue. I was baffled and hurt by the behavior, finding it sad that it was impossible for him to even contemplate loving, or learning to love my children. But he felt he'd not been enough with his own, and dared not betray them in this way.

It is not an easy thing to be accepted into a land-owning family. There is no neutral ground. There is family, and there are the outsiders. You are allowed to be present, but not necessarily to speak equally. I'd heard tales about the Corsicans... but here I experienced a variation of the same. There was graciousness, pleasant gatherings where I was given the position of honor of preparing the meal, but... I was never truly a part of it all.

Curious it all is. For so many people attempting relationships at a later date, blending families, contemplating the children of another, it just isn't easy. And the history a structure brings to the table. If it is an American ideal that both individuals sell their former homes to purchase a new one together, and thus to start anew a life as one... I knew from the get-go that this would never happen for us.

Yes, we never truly built anything together. A repaired chicken coop, a few dinner parties, the new wine label... but no more. You can't get very far if you're stuck in second gear.

That Fisherman Metaphor

Remember the ancient Chinese prover? Give a man a fish and feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and feed him for a life-time?

Well, I think I'm living this metaphor. Or at least, that's one of the ways I'm currently viewing my relationship, living in France in general, and being a single woman. I accept and honor that I choose to be here and with this person.

And yet, (a big) part of me would just love it if someone (he) would take the load off, share the burdens of this life, let me sleep late, take care of repairing my car, be a strong presence in the life of my kids (wouldn't it be nice to share that educating and disciplining role?) etc.,

Ahhh I can dream. But, that's what you do for a child, not for an adult. Yes, it is far more lasting to be pushed to cope on my own, to learn how to fish, much as I squirm and resist at times. But clearly, I'm also aware of my learning curve in this area (somewhere in my subconscious).

I receive suggestions: "when you talk to your mechanic, list all that needs doing, and ask for an estimate (the all important word 'devis') before bringing your car to him." Done and handled, repaired and paid for. All by my lonesome. Goodness, I feel like I just added a year to my maturity level.

And I receive encouragement, and periodic praise as I do my best to raise my kids on my own : "tes enfants se sont bien comportés à table l'autre soir." Um, yeah, it's amazing what eating with your kids every night (or nearly) for two years can do... glad you noticed. And yes, I did it pretty much by myself with some help from the other kids I care for, my mother in the summer, ...

Okay, I can still be sarcastic. But fear where my kids are concerned is something I've learned to accept and carefully chisle away at... We're getting there: one weekend/evening/outing/meal at a time.

In the meantime, tourism has picked up. Lovely folks are coming to Provence, and I've a new neighbor with whom I can carpool. Yippee! Just call me an enthusiastic maturing adult with a very active inner child.

And actually, I'm a pretty good fisher woman -- my brother taught me long ago: I can filet, clean, behead, scale and de-fin with the best of them.

Just to keep me on my toes

I do believe I've just lived a cliché... or at least, a scene out of a movie.

I removed all my belongings last week, right? I'd finally had enough and did the act that actually resonated and startled. I then went back on Sunday, strong and present and received the two importers. I then said salût and went back to my life in Avignon, to gather strength, to find more translating jobs, to be with my friends, my kids, etc.,

And, Tuesday morning, I received an SMS -- Tu me manques, je veux te voir. That I'd not seen the one the night before perhaps strung out the tension.

And so I responded, Ah bon, quand? où?

And he responded, this morning. Okay I said.

And so, concessions made, much discussed (or not), we shall try again.

What is it about leaving someone and being strong and clear doing so that makes him turn around and come chasing after you?

I'm amused, pleased, a bit hesitant, but willing to be serious and make it work... I trust the yoyoing is over for the relative futre.

Friends to the Rescue

Yesterday I finished that last load of laundry and headed to Mireille's. My horse whisperer to the rescue. Hours later, and half a bottle quaffed of Beaurenard Châteauneuf-du-Pape white that I'd brought along, we were side by side chatting and exchanging and sharing. She's very good for helping reinforce my memories of all that wasn't going right. She is faithful, funny, generous, present, willing, and full of compliments and support for me.

Mireille is there to sooth me, to encourage me towards future pursuits, to suggest that my preference for being in a couple might not be the ideal solution for me (at least at the moment), and more simply Mireille is there for me.

I slept a short night, but lay in bed till the sun was properly up before heading out to greet my renters (lovely former b&b clients!), and then off to Carol's.

Carol, a darling Scottish friend is a yoga teacher, therapist and life-coach. She greeted me with a marvelous long walk, lengthy and easy talking, and a soothing Yin yoga session upon our return to her home. It was just lovely enough to do our yoga outside on the terrace (hard to imagine with the weather we'd been having!).

And here I am, all talked out, bathed, a fire roaring in her majestic stone fireplace, cozily sitting on a plush couch, Filou at my feet, a Crozes Hermitage Rouge in my glass, awaiting a lovely dinner of ginger and cider spiced pumpkin soup, spinach tart, and her daughter's birthday cake.

How extraordinary to be received, coddled, accepted into the homes of my friends. And how grateful I am. I am not a hermit. Hiding out on my own is not how I get through tough times. These moments are for re-connecting, reaching out to those who are there, and testing new possibilities.

Discussions for Provence Hiking and Yoga Retreats are on the table. Next? Perhaps the inspiration to put back a long morning hike and some meditative chanting into my life...

What is a definition of Love?

Love? Infatuation? Fascination? Crush? Passion? What are these?

One definition I share with a number of girl friends is if you truly love another you are willing to share and accept his/her worries and problems alongside all the joy, strength, potential, and more that he/she promises. If it is truly love, you can't help but want to help, and you don't dread being drawn in, you just act.

However, infatuation or fascination is more a sense of being drawn and held by another's physical beauty, sex, an ideal, even the wishful-thinking version of that person. In this dynamic, reality can be off-putting and disillusioning.

In general, we all come with both. Right? Virtues are balanced by weaknesses. Worry is balanced by joy. Light is balanced by dark. Can you accept my weaknesses? or will they send you fleeing? Humanity is by definition flawed, right?

As I remember so well a teacher saying to me, "If we were perfect, we would not and could not love. It is in our imperfections that love can nest."

Nevertheless, and of course, we each have our limits. However, if your limits are so well defined that they cannot be wriggled around or through, how can you grow?

As my dear friends and I agree, I am porous. My limits are minimally defined. I am about saying yes, being there, adapting to situations, coping for myself, my friends, my family, my guests. You missed a train? ok, I'll come get you. You need a place to sleep tonight? Well, I've a mattress I can put on my bedroom floor. Your child needs to be picked up Wednesday? I'll make room, there's always enough for another person at the table.

I think that in a solid relationship I give, you give, I receive, you receive, and we're both stronger for it. No? I try to adapt without judgement. The universe throws me a curve ball and I tense my abdominals, flex my arms, and catch it, more or less gracefully.

And, while awaiting its appearance, I will revel and flourish in the love of my friends, the support and encouragement of my family, and in my two marvelous boys who think I smell good.

SWF in her Forties Seeks Balance

Unless otherwise noted, all materials on this blog are (c) 2009 by Madeleine Vedel

There is a moment after a separation, divorce, splitting of a couple, when women start wondering if it really is desirable to be in a couple. I say this as for a man we change, we adapt, we aim to please (or at least, I've done this). Am I fully me when I'm pleasing a man? Why am I different when I'm with my girl friends, or my kids. When your girlfriends notice that you are not yourself, as they know you, in the presence of your man, what do you do?

What choice is being made? Is it necessarily part of being in a couple that you shift your priorities and your behavior? I'm highly sensitive to the people around me, and more than anything to the shifting moods of my children and the man I am seeing. (when I have clients beside me, I am equally sensitive to their needs and pleasures) If they're not well, nor am I. I'm no longer self-contained and simply me facing the world. I'm porous, sensitive to the other, worrying a bit, or preening as the case may be.

I'm proud to be a chosen one, I'm proud to be with him. I'm pleased to be attractive and to attract. I'm delighted to partner, to assist, to participate. But, what am I giving up in so doing?

I question all this as I'm a woman who is more often than not in a couple. I've just been that way since I first started dating at the age of 16. Rare have been the moments when I've stayed single longer than a year. For good or ill, such has been my pattern. I've also had the experience of having friends prefer me when I'm not with my partner. This is not -- I think-- a good thing. To me this says that my personality, my being shifts so that my friends are unsettled by the me part-of-a-couple, and at ease with the me on-her-on.

In my same situation (divorced, coping on my own with two kids) many of my friends have opted, by choice or not, to not date while they recover from a divorce. The world is not kind to single women, and all their energy is needed to raise their children -- often countering the lessons learned at the father's house --and to find a job that will cover their basic needs. The job needs to be juggled with school hours, after school activities, shopping, cleaning, laundry, yard work, dealing with leaks in the ceiling, what have you. All activities that are more easily shared by two, but in this case, become the sole responsibility of the woman.

Blending these necessarily wearying responsibilities with dating a man, pleasing a man, spiffing up for going out, adapting to another's needs, it just isn't easy and perhaps it isn't desirable? Love and passion are glorious, but they can also leave you drained, and weaker than before rather than stronger. How to cope on all that is waiting for you back at the house, if you're distracted and sleep-deprived?

In this world, as it stands today, is it possible to find a partner mid-life? What concessions must we make? Or do we turn our back on this dream, and live our lives, raise our children, cope as best we can on our financial worries. Is it simply better to accept that the world is so designed that we are very much alone to manage all this, and the sooner we see this the better?

I've had feed back on this question. Many, oh so many, women simply realize that dating and raising children on your own don't go well together. Studies of the difficulties of children raised in single parent households be damned. So there's not a man full-time in your household, perhaps kids these days need more feminine attention, and this is appropriate to our moment in human development? As Joan Armatrading sings, "if women ruled the world..."

Deep Roots or a Tumbleweed?

Unless otherwise noted, all materials on this blog are (c) 2009 by Madeleine Vedel

What is it that keeps one person grounded, rooted in their local village, living out a life within view of their place of birth? And what is it, conversely, that sends another to the opposite ends of the earth, restless, eager, looking over and beyond the next hill? How did I end up living in so many cities (Kobe, Seattle, Paris, Arles, Avignon, New Rochelle, Princeton), and practicing so many professions? What was it that pushed a friend and colleague to build a boat, sail the seven seas, settle in Tahiti, then come back to France, renovate a barge, sell it, and set off yet again, this time to Australia for seven years? She's back in France now... but like myself, how rooted will she allow herself to become, or not? Some might say we're running away. But no, we did not flee failed love-affairs, or unhappy childhoods. Though for myself, I confess love can be the hook which decides the destination. She, I believe, like myself, has in her a need to conquer new lands, to test her adaptability and strength by learning new mores and languages. Once successful, there is an urge to move on to a new destination. It is not failure that sends us on our way, but more often, success and an accompanying restlessness.

In my Provençale life I've surrounded myself with artisans and farmers, individuals who chose their professions early, mastered them, and then settled into their activity and their village for the rest of their lives. In many cases, these are people taking over from their fathers, or their mothers and practicing a profession transfered to them from precedent generations. Roots, tradition, expectations, familiar rhythms. These have weighed heavily in their choices, their life's path. The piece of earth that they own, and in some cases where they were born, roots them. But also the mastery of an art and their position socially in their town. They are known, respected, accepted integrally as part of the world they live in. When you are the baker of Maillane, that is what you are. Or the organic winemaker up the hill, or the potter, or the chic chocolatier. You have a reputation, a role to play, you are a puzzle piece that lacking, would affect all who live in your sphere.

A classic attraction of opposites?

Somewhere, somehow, I chose to be outside, other, different. I conclude this, as why else would I have settled in a foreign land where I shall always be told "vous avez un petit accent." or "mais, vous n'êtes pas d'ici." Certainly, a WASP from NY would simply have blended in in a Manhattan bank, or a university faculty meeting, or in the marketing department of Ralph Lauren, or as a housewife in Connecticut. But I didn't reach for any of these possibilities. I chose to live in a land (for a year) where I towered over all and made everyone laugh with my wild hand gestures and creative use of their language (Japan). Then I went flying off to Paris and from there began my life as an expatriée for good, in a land where my optimism and enthusiasm are seen with indulgence as signs of my great naïveté. And where my freckles, height and blondish hair are visual clues to my foreignness.

I am far from alone. Many have come to Provence to settle, and whether you are from Paris or from Tokyo, you are considered an outsider by the locals. So, I cannot pretend that what I live is as disorienting say, as the daily existence of a young American growing up with his missionary parents in a tiny village in Hokkaido. However, I have had the regular jolt and daily reminder of adapting my cultural education to the local standards: the loudness of my voice to the softer French, my driving style to the constantly passing two lanes of the French national roads, a tendency to rush a quick errand to the necessity of taking my time. I've enjoyed the challenge, but I've also accepted that I shall forever not blend in. A curious fact. I simply stand out like a sore thumb, in particular when I speak to my children in public, or tell Filou to sit, or even when I conclude a purchase in a shop and they hear my accent.

With time, I've become accepted as the individual I am. I don't think my closest friends think of me as their American friend anymore, I'm simply Madeleine to them. They've accepted my contradictions, my energy, my way of being.

If I stay here, and my children are raised here. Will they be "normal" or at least considered French? Or have I gifted them a bi-cultural existence along with their lingual proficiency? Will they be tempted to travel far and wide? or feel rooted as their father is, and as so many are in Provence. Many, including my vintner and their father sincerely believe they live in the most beautiful place in the world, to which many (myself included) have flocked. Thus why would they ever want to live elsewhere? Yes, paychecks are small locally, yes, there's very little mobility in the job market... so? Life is made of much more than a career, right? Family nearby, traditions, roots, familiar rhythms, not to mention the mountains, the beaches, the markets, the food, the culture.

Will my children be children of the world? or settle here. Will they want to explore their American side, be educated on the other side of the Atlantic and perhaps work there, or will they feel very French and want to stay put? The friend who spent time in Tahiti and Australia was followed back to France by two daughters, but not by her son. My cousin who married and raised her boys in England left them behind when she returned to her home-town in Massachusetts. And yet others can stay happily home and watch their children travel to the distant ends of the earth, settling in London, Tokyo, Berlin or Florence.

It takes all to make a world. But how interesting to have such different impulses in the hearts of our beings. And those of us who remain outsiders wherever we are, where in the end shall we land? Shall we graft onto others' roots? Shall we share the lift of our wings to carry others in our wake? Is it reasonable for a flighty, restless, traveling woman to be with a firmly rooted paysan?