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?

A Month plus...

Well, it has been over a month. I've received emails, sent some. Beautiful flowers and an sms for my birthday. Curious. Perhaps it is easier to be "quittée" than to "quitte."

During this time I've read interesting and helpful books (David Deida, Hendrick Harville, Barbara de Angelis) and listened to others (John Welwood, Deepak Chopra, Eckhart Tolle, Tara Brach, Oriah Mountain Dreamer). I'm seeking to make sense of it all, to learn something, to be more for what I lived, and not less. To see a lesson amidst the pain and confusion. I sent on French versions of the first two books to JP... for his next coupledom. They both make some very good points.

And, for me, all this reading and probing into my soul and heart seems to be working. In any case, the universe is certainly telling me that at long last I'm on the right path.

These past two weeks I've worked more and earned more than in practically the past two and half years combined (okay, I exaggerate, but not by much). I'm getting ahead on house projects -- I even spent a day going through my mending pile! Finally, that hole in the butt of Jonas' pjs... My Good Will pile ready to go into the trunk of my car.

And even more lovely, my home is giving back to me, as are my children. Roses are blooming on every corner, bursting forth.

This weekend is a time of rest from 'work.' And a time to seriously work on the garden and the house. The pool is now painted with two coats of protective (non-toxic, organic) pine-colored stuff. The overgrown/broken down barrier to the far side of my row of cypress trees is gone, soon to be replaced by a clean and sturdy new fence. My vegetable garden is not only weeded, it is gifting us with fresh new garlic, and 300grams (a nice small bucket) of gorgeous strawberries daily. Perhaps to compensate for the completely fruitless cherry tree? Five new tomato plants are in. Three pumpkin seeds have sprouted, and two melon. The three pea plants that survived the slugs are each bearing pods. They will be, as we say, anecdotique. A saucepan they shall not fill. But a happy little boy may easily nibble some in the next few days, right off the vine.

My neighbor, aka my adopted little brother, is available to help out (for pay) in the garden, and is easily and happily taking on the role of masculine presence for the boys. Today was one of those magical days when I had lots of projects, had banished the computer, and we all spent the day working side by side outdoors in the garden. Laurent quickly had both boys at his side helping burn the brush. He carefully instructed them how, had them in proper shoes and gloves, and I simply laid off and did my thing (paint/weed/laundry/cake/lunch...). If only once JP had shown the same patience and presence of mind... Ah well, water under the bridge.

It's been pointed out to me that with my father issues... it is quite possible that somehow I sabotaged (not consciously!) the potential relationship between my boys and JP. That I needed to be in the tiny space of a couple, treated with tenderness and attention, and sharing that space with my own children might have been something I hesitated to put into place. Perhaps. Certainly, I early on got the message that we'd not live my ideal rhythm: 2 days together, 3 days me alone with my boys and 2 days all 4 of us together. The first time we shared a home (the 4 of us) for 3 days, the day my boys went to their father, I didn't get my man back, I lost him. His need to be alone was such that he needed days to recuperate from the invasion of my children in his home, and he fled me as well. Perhaps I learned this lesson too well.

Whatever the justice of the observation, when briefly I met a man who was fabulous with my boys, but apparently couldn't make time for me... I turned away from him, freaked by his workaholic nature, touched by his extraordinary devotion to the children, but put off by his seeming blindness towards what keeps a couple together.

However, I'm writing of the past, but my intention was/is to laud the present.

Friday night (very recent past, you must grant me) gifted me with a wonderful evening of tango -- dancing with many a different cavalier of varied skill, age, size, height, rhythm. It was glorious and warm and delightful and ... just what I needed. As I drove home I was on such a high. I've absolutely nothing to complain about. My kids are pretty darn nice. I've a collection of devoted and generous friends. I dance, I garden, I cook, I earn a living. I am at peace with my world, and reveling in the pure joy of it.

Yes, it would be lovely to meet someone new, at some point, who could truly look at me and accept the country/city nature, the dress-up tango dancer/barefoot gardener, the great cook of feasts for friends/curl up in bed with a book and a cuddle over a weekend... bundle of contrasts that I am. Ah well. In the meantime, kids, friends and a life.

It's nothing to sneeze at.

Just Spring Flowers

For me, all these books I'm reading and podcasts I'm listening to that underline the importance of living in the present and being grateful resonate with smelling the flowers, feeling the sunshine, and appreciating the beauty all around me.

Limits

Limits: physical, mental, spiritual, emotional.

Do you work till you drop? Give till there's nothing more to give? Exercise till the body is melting with fatigue? Does the body indicate your limits by becoming sick? collapsing? sending out unambiguous signals.

Or, do you know when the work day is over. Give only what you have available. Offer only what you have to spare. And, physical health is a given, never a worry. Nights are calm, sleep is solid.

And if you put the two in the same room? balance? complimentarity? or complete miscomprehension?

Hmmm..

A parable for the ages

As I read to Leo from Alexander the Great the other night, we came to a chapter where Alexander climbs deep into the Caucasses mountains and comes to the cave where Prometheus is chained. As they speak, Prometheus tells Alexander a tale:

There was once a son of a merchant who lived well in a small town. One night he dreamed of a well in a garden with black roses, in a village far, far away. And at the bottom of the well, he learned there was a sack of gold. So, he decided to pack up his belongings and set out in search of this sack of gold in the far off garden. He traveled far, and he suffered many set-backs. He was set upon by brigands; he became ill; he lost his belongings; he endured hunger and exhaustion. At long last he arrived in the far off village. But there, he was viewed as a poor beggar, and as the poor receive a poor welcome throughout the world, so did he in this village. He was picked up by the local authorities for disturbing the peace. However there, his luck changed a bit, and one of the soldiers took pity on him, remarking that his behavior was not that of a typical beggar. And to this man the merchant's son told his story, from where he came from, to his dream, and to his arrival in this state. The soldier looked at him and laughed. Only two people follow such dreams, fools or children, or both, said he. I took had a dream once of a well with carved lions atop it, and at the bottom of the well was a sack of gold. But I put that aside to live in the real world. The soldier then gave the merchant's son such as was necessary to cloth him properly and set him on his way back home.

Once home, the young man went straight to his house, and through this to his garden, and there, he took a ladder and put it down his well, atop which there were carved stone lions, and at the bottom of the well he found the sack of gold, and from this point, lived comfortably ever after.

When I told this to my mother the following day, she said to me, "so, where is home for you?" Good question. Where is my personal garden?

Cocooning, Taking Time.

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

The divorce is taking time, for numerous reasons. Amongst these the slow motion of the French judicial system, but also, the high fees of the lawyers and notaries are not easy to pay this early in the season. So, it is taking time. But so am I. I am taking time to get my feet back under me. I am taking time to figure out how to cope in this new reality. And that in itself is a luxury that I am fully aware of. But, I don't find myself able to manage differently. Things are not finished yet. In particular, the b&b is not sold as yet. Many things are on hold.

There are days I charge through my to-do list, and accomplish--if at times breathlessly-- all those accumulated tasks. I keep on top of most of my banking, my filing, the kids' medical appointments (that reminds me, we all need booster shots of tetanus), the bills, food, cleaning (better some weeks than others). And then the next day I'll feel lethargic, and though I nearly never allow myself a "useless" day, it is tempting.

Patience is necessary with the children. Leo's reading is improving, but it is not something that will shift overnight. Jonas is becoming more social and trusting, but there too, constance and presence are necessary. I've been the one who turns on a dime, who finds the solution to the problem with a quick bit of thought, who has a plan B in the wings ready to put into motion. I'm one who has always been in motion, gathering others to me in my wake. And now? Why do I feel a disconnect with this version of myself?

I spent a moment re-reading the Rudolf Steiner ideas of the life cycles as presented by two American Anthroposophists, George and Gisela O'Neil in their book, The Human Life. Ok, it sounds a bit esoteric, but, with my children in the Waldorf school, I've plunged more than a bit into this world and the very interesting ideas and concepts it puts forth on the patterns of a human life, the directions we choose, the moments we live throughout our biography. Concerning myself, moving from 42-43 this year, I am coming out of one seven year cycle (35-42) during which I basically took a look at things, threw a crank in them, and jumped out -- not necessarily with my parachute prepared. This cycle is a time to look at the path we are on, to review it, revise it, and if need be, change it. Task accomplished. It is also considered to be the last period of our 'soul' years. Which you could relate to the will, one's direction, one's values. The need to be on a path in sync with your true self is either heard and followed, or submerged by the insanities and needs of our daily life.

42-49 is a time of struggle, but also a time when the exterior physical forces are diminishing, and the internal life-forces and spirit are strengthening. For those who resist this pull towards the interior, this period can be very difficult, and a physical weariness, or illness is the result. As I re-read these ideas it dawned on me forcefully that my mornings on the computer, writing away, communicating, thinking, contemplating, are inescapable. For years I've been a whirlwind of energy, swirling through my life, exploring, creating, doing. But more and more, I am drawn inward. I am drawn to declare more clearly my values, to accept my limits, and hopefully, to discover new strengths, new directions that tap what is in me, not simply what I put out into the world.

Hence, I am writing. Is what I have to say interesting? Can I resonate with others going through similar moments? Can I bring any clarity, or if not, amusement to the subject? How banal is my situation? A mom newly single, raising her two boys who she is in many ways still discovering, trying to figure out how to earn a living that permits her to raise them as she wants and feels she needs to (at least for the moment). I've an accumulation of life experiences, living as an expat in a beautiful part of the world, working closely with so many masters of their trade. These friends are there, helping me yet with my visitors, my book projects. As all this flows, the seasons play their part, the kids' school rhythms are mine. And into this, I'm trying to cope on having a love life.

There's a theory that a woman can't succeed in all three domains at once, these being motherhood, career and love. Is it so? it certainly isn't easy to juggle the three. And particularly in this world when time is just not extensible. The NYTimes recently published an article highlighting grandmothers who move back in to help with the childcare so their daughters can have full lives with careers and happy husbands, and not in this pursuit neglect the education of their children. Michelle Obama's mother was a prime example. Where possible, this is still the pattern here in Provence. But, as elsewhere, it is becoming ever more rare.

I think we're all scared by divorce, badly behaved children, messing up the tasks we've set ourselves, disappointing ourselves as well as our entourage. It should be possible to succeed in all three domains, right?

Time to go lunch with a good friend and discuss this out loud. And then, of course, more tasks await. My new resume for teaching English and translating. The chapter on the beekeeper for the teen cook book. I'm getting to them, just more slowly than I thought I would, and should.






Avignon cafe life in full swing. And bikers out in force. Next time, I'm leaving my car at home too!