Just in case all this "being in the present" and "reveling" etc is becoming tiresome, I'm here to assure you that stress is still present, as is sheer physical exhaustion. It's fun to float on clouds on occasion, and then things like an over-full septic tank come up to tap you on the nose. But, happily (or perversely?) I've become quite a regular for the septic cleaning people here -- this being the 4th year in a row -- and so they came within an hour of being called. Is this odd or what? I'm a privileged client to Sud Vidanges... Hey, at least I can testify to their professional behavior and friendly demeanor.
No doubt next year it will be the neighbor's time to empty his, and he'll forget, and it will overflow, and my back yard will smell till I urge him to cope, and ... But that's a year away. Today, all is roses.
But speaking of neighbors... I've two out of three who are fine. Of these two one is lovely and helpful, a little brother, the other innocuous and almost never there. But the one who is a bit off? Well, I've rarely come across a more stingy and selfish character with the absurdly false self-image of being "très gentil". Ha! mesquin is the term one would use. And remarkably so. If it doesn't benefit him personally, even if it would be in the interest of good relations, even if it were la chose correcte à faire, he won't do it. He's rather the type to chop off his foot to spite his toe.
And so, as I go out onto my terrace I see half a wall poorly redone. One of his outside walls gives onto my terrace. And so, he sent a mason over to resurface it to limit water damage in the winter etc., But rather than do the whole wall and split the cost with me, he did the absolute minimum -- fast and dirty. Ahhhh I could go on and on. But I won't. He's simply like that. Nothing I can do about it. If I want a prettier wall one day, I'll just do it, if the graces permit me to have the funds to do so.
Neighbors... it is such a source of either joy or pain or amusement. I enjoyed my first soirée sur une péniche the other night. Great fun, good people, good music, entertaining conversations. Most had heard of me (the American, the one who bakes bread, the one who has all those kids...), so they had an image in their minds before I arrived. However, I was able to impress at least one with my local truffle lore and foie gras knowledge. He exclaimed that I couldn't be American! I had to have French blood in me! Another spoke at length with me about how rare it is for Americans to truly settle in France. We visit, we romanticize, we contemplate, but the American who actually stays and makes a life is rare. Far more common are German, Dutch, English and folks from the North.
I've often felt this, that people hesitate to befriend you if they think you'll leave one day. What's the point of investing in a friendship if the person isn't going to be there till death do you part? Or something like this.
We laughed over our mutual neighbor -- the farmer who's been on the island for a few generations. He considers the péniche people upstarts and intruders, and there have often been disagreements between them. Many an islander considered their property line the Rhône itself. Thus, when the boat folks hooked up to the banks, they invaded the farmer's territory. It has been a quiet war ever since. This explains the fact that this farmer shoveled out only the road that left his farm this winter after the major snow storm. The other side (that would have led to my road...) he left a meter deep. Neighborly generosity? Thinking of others? Not.
Somehow, and mostly peacefully, we all co-exist. I've a beautiful house in an amazing place. And if the nice and helpful out-number the distant and persnickety, I consider myself on the winning side.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
June 12, 2010
Though I'm physically weary from a day of wine tasting in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, I'm still in a good space.
As I dance, cope, clean, explore, work, sort out, and more I'm amazed at the calm I feel. The French would say, 'apaisée.' How strange and good to be whole, solid, present. And how surreal to think of the time I spent these past two years being anything but! How could I have gotten so far from myself? How could earning a living have been so difficult? How could the stress and tension and urgency so overwhelm me? How could another's view and opinion of me have become so important?
Now, I've my weekends back, along with my general sanity and self. After those first when I wasn't certain what to do with myself, I'm now coming to revel in the quiet, the chance to weed the garden in my pjs, the chance to sleep in, to clean, to get things in order, to check on my bank accounts, to pay bills, to see friends, to go out dancing in my neighborhood (and thus to not have more than 10 minutes in the car either way). I'm pretty much getting it all done.
Oh part of me is worrying a bit about the sheer quantity of housecleaning and putting away I've got to do before the renters arrive in two weeks (countdown is beginning!). I'd like to go through all my old files and toss most of them into the recycling. Will I? I need to do my run through the house to remove all that's personal and fragile. There's the kids' things to sort through and pack up. And of course the top to toe cleaning as is done but once a year. Banish the cob webs, scrub down the shower, empty the septic (done by an outside company, not to worry, I'm not getting my own pumps or shovels out), clean the oven and the fridge and, well all those necessary things.
All the curtains come down and get cleaned and put back up. All the bedding gets re-folded and re-organized (you can imagine the state it is in after a year of pre-teens and boys to boot rummaging through it all!).
What is different this year is that I'll put my stuff at my neighbor's in his garage rather than at JP's. And, I'm moving into a small camping car on his property, which is directly across from my own. Thus, I need to bring with me the essentials for this summer -- all the food stuffs, some pots and pans, bedding, computer, printer, personal files, clothes, etc., Not all will fit into a camping van, that is sure. So??? A problem to be solved. And no doubt some cleaning of the camping van before I move into it. Just an additional element to add to the mix.
But, for the moment I'm simply contemplating and organizing in my head, not freaking out. In any case, I've three more days of touring before I can fully concentrate on all this. The key is to work methodically, steadily, and take sufficient breaks to not be a complete exhausted mess at the end of each day. I'm still learning. Work till you drop has more often been my rhythm...
However, another difference this year is that more than one friend has offered to help out -- rubber gloves in hand!
So now, rather than be a broken record over my frustrating relationship issues, I'm going to be one over the generosity of the universe... it's like a very persistent meme. When I feel something, I state it, I shout it to the world, and well, it's there.
As I dance, cope, clean, explore, work, sort out, and more I'm amazed at the calm I feel. The French would say, 'apaisée.' How strange and good to be whole, solid, present. And how surreal to think of the time I spent these past two years being anything but! How could I have gotten so far from myself? How could earning a living have been so difficult? How could the stress and tension and urgency so overwhelm me? How could another's view and opinion of me have become so important?
Now, I've my weekends back, along with my general sanity and self. After those first when I wasn't certain what to do with myself, I'm now coming to revel in the quiet, the chance to weed the garden in my pjs, the chance to sleep in, to clean, to get things in order, to check on my bank accounts, to pay bills, to see friends, to go out dancing in my neighborhood (and thus to not have more than 10 minutes in the car either way). I'm pretty much getting it all done.
Oh part of me is worrying a bit about the sheer quantity of housecleaning and putting away I've got to do before the renters arrive in two weeks (countdown is beginning!). I'd like to go through all my old files and toss most of them into the recycling. Will I? I need to do my run through the house to remove all that's personal and fragile. There's the kids' things to sort through and pack up. And of course the top to toe cleaning as is done but once a year. Banish the cob webs, scrub down the shower, empty the septic (done by an outside company, not to worry, I'm not getting my own pumps or shovels out), clean the oven and the fridge and, well all those necessary things.
All the curtains come down and get cleaned and put back up. All the bedding gets re-folded and re-organized (you can imagine the state it is in after a year of pre-teens and boys to boot rummaging through it all!).
What is different this year is that I'll put my stuff at my neighbor's in his garage rather than at JP's. And, I'm moving into a small camping car on his property, which is directly across from my own. Thus, I need to bring with me the essentials for this summer -- all the food stuffs, some pots and pans, bedding, computer, printer, personal files, clothes, etc., Not all will fit into a camping van, that is sure. So??? A problem to be solved. And no doubt some cleaning of the camping van before I move into it. Just an additional element to add to the mix.
But, for the moment I'm simply contemplating and organizing in my head, not freaking out. In any case, I've three more days of touring before I can fully concentrate on all this. The key is to work methodically, steadily, and take sufficient breaks to not be a complete exhausted mess at the end of each day. I'm still learning. Work till you drop has more often been my rhythm...
However, another difference this year is that more than one friend has offered to help out -- rubber gloves in hand!
So now, rather than be a broken record over my frustrating relationship issues, I'm going to be one over the generosity of the universe... it's like a very persistent meme. When I feel something, I state it, I shout it to the world, and well, it's there.
Rose-colored glasses
Or, des lunettes teintées en rose, as a 'connaissance de tango' said this evening. And yes, I'm reveling in the pleasures of my life, of which dancing is currently a marvelous and important one.
In general, my enthusiasm and upbeat outlook on life throws people here. I suppose that it's rather unusual that after fifteen years living in Europe I've not become a bit more reserved, cynical, distant, intellectually aloof... But that's a stereotype that maligns my friends here, perhaps more apt for Parisians.
I've found my friends here in the South, and my acquaintances, to be more open and warm than people I met in the north. However, t'is true, I'm in a class by myself.
And so, when my tango friend looks at me with amusement in her eyes, and states that I must be looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, I say yes, but that I'm simply doing my best to be where I'm at. And, at that moment I'm floating on air after dancing with nearly every cavalier in the room.
How could I not be radiant and happy?
I do tell her that I've been through a lot in my head and heart, wondering, seeking, deciding. And that having made a decision to be here, I am doing my darndest to attach my feet to this ground and grow and be. and to be grateful.
And, like a tree, I've branches reaching for the sky, leaves lightly floating in the air, catching the rays of sunlight, and roots gently growing downward into the soil. Solid, yet light.
So, Buddhist thoughts and meditations on gratefulness and being in the present aside... I'm still an odd one.
In general, my enthusiasm and upbeat outlook on life throws people here. I suppose that it's rather unusual that after fifteen years living in Europe I've not become a bit more reserved, cynical, distant, intellectually aloof... But that's a stereotype that maligns my friends here, perhaps more apt for Parisians.
I've found my friends here in the South, and my acquaintances, to be more open and warm than people I met in the north. However, t'is true, I'm in a class by myself.
And so, when my tango friend looks at me with amusement in her eyes, and states that I must be looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, I say yes, but that I'm simply doing my best to be where I'm at. And, at that moment I'm floating on air after dancing with nearly every cavalier in the room.
How could I not be radiant and happy?
I do tell her that I've been through a lot in my head and heart, wondering, seeking, deciding. And that having made a decision to be here, I am doing my darndest to attach my feet to this ground and grow and be. and to be grateful.
And, like a tree, I've branches reaching for the sky, leaves lightly floating in the air, catching the rays of sunlight, and roots gently growing downward into the soil. Solid, yet light.
So, Buddhist thoughts and meditations on gratefulness and being in the present aside... I'm still an odd one.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Visiting Aix
Well, I'm getting a better feel for this elegant and bourgeoise city. I do admit to not knowing it very well before being spurred to do so by clients who wanted a day's tour here.
I'd visited as a teenager with the host family I stayed with in Marseille. From that stay I had memories of gorgeous carved wooden doors... which there are to be sure, but why would that be the main memory in my head? I also was privileged to be snuck in to see an open air production of Mozart's Magic Flute from the spiral stairway up to the balcony section (a friend of the family I was staying with was interning at the Festival Lyric of opera that summer). There's something awsomely magical about watching the most lovely of operas in an ancient Roman outdoor theater setting in the warmth of a summer's night... Yes, that is a precious memory in my stash.
And since? Some brief visits with Erick and clients to see the Cézanne exhibit in 2006. A night of opera when pregnant with Jonas, a gift of seats from a friend who works for Vauzel, the president of the region PACA (Provence Alpes, Côtes d'Azur). What did we see? I'm not even sure. Perhaps Mozart again? I was rather distracted, yet quite delighted by the cultural outing.
Yes, Aix is de rigueur, a center of Provence and one example of Provençale culture. In fact, it did used to be the seat of power of the Provence royal family. And so I've been doing my research in books and on the web, and making excursions alone and with friends, absorbing what I might.
The key things to remember? Fountains and Cézanne, lovely tiny streets, great boutiques (buy a dress here for your friend's next wedding), interesting dining options, squares filled with markets, and more fountains.
If you can do so, avoid driving. Park immediately when you see a parking spot, have lots of change (it is far more expensive here than in either Avignon or Arles) and just leave your car for the day. Don't wear high heels -- the prettiest sections of the city are riddled with cobble-stone streets. Note that you can pick up some English reading material (on rue Cabbersol in the Mazarin district, down the street from the second fountain on the Cours Mirabeau).
The Cézanne sites are sweet: his last studio and home (basically a very small bachelor's pad with a large second floor room with a wall of windows), complete with over grown garden, tree-shaded spots to sit and rest -- all is just as he left it, or very nearly. He is said to have been a rather poor house-keeper, so the dust is quite normal, and with still lives being one of his favorite subjects, numerous apples in various states of decay are set up about the room; and the house of his parents to which he was much attached and in which he painted a number of walls on the theme of the Seasons. This house was sold by his sisters and himself when his mother died, the Jas de Bouffan. Neither site has easy parking, and the latter is a bit of a hike from the center of town, though doable. Basically, if you can grab it, try to park in the lots of the apartment complexes nearby. Then don't get run over as you cross the street to the entrances.
But then, get back to the little streets of the old section of town. And, here, I'll give you my new favorite address, Toute une Histoire, a vegetarian buffet style restaurant on the Place des Tanneurs. Oh but the food is good, fresh, inventive, and very reasonable. Go by early to reserve your table outdoors, and enjoy the teas, the friendly service, and the possibility of simply hanging out in the afternoon working on your computer, sipping coffee, and enjoying the relaxed and funky space.
And, do not forget the Mont Ste. Victoire. Majestic, just outside town, (direction le Tholonet) no longer as easy to spot from the top of the hill above Cézanne's studio (the trees are far higher and denser in spots now than they were 100 years ago), but a lovely 10 kilometer drive out of town, away from the crowds, away from the traffic (though on a road with occasional small and steep sections where you may run into cars and buses that share with difficulty, the narrow paved sections, lined with deep drop-offs...).
If you're feeling energetic, go for a walk/climb. There are a number of paths that go up the south face of the mountain, and the nicest ones begin before you get to the visitor's center (Maison Ste. Victoire). You could also go to the north side (the next option on the circle road around Aix that takes you east), where your hike would be shaded by the trees in the morning.
In either case, it is a steep and strenuous climb, though not too long (two hours or so). Bring water, trail mix, oranges, a sun hat... And enjoy!
The simplest of meals
Friends called. They're on their way over. Or rather, lovely people I've yet to meet but exchanged on FB with and who've apparently been reading my blog for ages... or since its inception. Cool! She's a Franco-american artist with connections to Salvador Dali (wow!), he's an American composer (of tango music no less!) who also knows a childhood friend/composer/musician of mine and they're moving to my city. People who scorn cars (oh how I would as well if only...) and who've adopted a frugal but extraordinarily rich life-style over the years. My kind of folk?
What to feed them? Coffee at 11 is easy... but when noontime comes around? What then? I've not had time to shop for days (lots of touring clients-- thank you universe), so the fridge is not what you'd call full (at least of fresh veggies and fruit which to my mind means the larder is empty!).
Hey, remember? I've a garden, and in it there's garlic waiting to be harvested - I've followed Sharyn's advice to let it grow and then begin to wilt before bringing it in. Perfect... And all those potatoes I planted, why not dig up some little new ones now? Ah, little tiny red ones and nice sized yellow mona-lisas... Next? The last of the peas would be a lovely green garnish. And I can't forget the herb garden, some lemon thyme? basil? both small and large leaf.. Then dessert, a couple strawberries ripened by the sun?
With all these in hand I put on water for the pasta to boil, and started chopping, mashing, crushing, mincing, and voila, lunch was nearly ready. A few drizzles of my last bottle of JP's olive oil (wonder if I'll get more one day??) some sea salt, fresh baked bread (the timing on that at least was perfect), a bottle of organic rosé (yup, one of my last bottles of this too... ) and a meal is on the table.
Thank you garden! Thank you house! Thank you friends! Thank you Provence!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Sylvie's Scarves
What wonderful news! Sylvie has a wonderful range of scarves for sale. And as I've already four in my wardrobe, and though I sincerely tempted... it's likely better than I leave these for others to enjoy.
Remember her? I wrote an earlier blogpost on her: The Felting Lady. She is a gifted artist of felting and silk. I've put images here, both close-up of the details and distant to show the whole scarve/shawl. If you find any of them to your liking, she would be delighted to sell it (them) to you. They are 60E(for a small one around the neck) to 120E (large and enveloping) plus shipping (which is minimal as they are so light). Her email is femmeenrouge@hotmail.fr. Her English is superb (she lived nearly ten years in Australia), and who knows, maybe you'll enjoy exchanging with her as much as receiving a gorgeous and unique shawl?
Remember her? I wrote an earlier blogpost on her: The Felting Lady. She is a gifted artist of felting and silk. I've put images here, both close-up of the details and distant to show the whole scarve/shawl. If you find any of them to your liking, she would be delighted to sell it (them) to you. They are 60E(for a small one around the neck) to 120E (large and enveloping) plus shipping (which is minimal as they are so light). Her email is femmeenrouge@hotmail.fr. Her English is superb (she lived nearly ten years in Australia), and who knows, maybe you'll enjoy exchanging with her as much as receiving a gorgeous and unique shawl?
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 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?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Images from the Lubéron
The Lubéron is a valley to the east of Avignon lined with two ranges of hills atop which there are a number of some of the most lovely perched villages, villages perchés, one can hope to find.
Understandably, this is a popular day tour for me and my clients. Each time I go there, the visit varies depending on the weather, energy of the visitors, preference for walking and/or shopping, interest in monuments, or just reveling in the time-old act of sitting in a cafe people watching, a glass of rosé or orangina in hand.
With one group we might be buffeted by the powerful Mistral winds as we walk up the troglodyte home lined tiny streets of the now abandoned town of Oppède le Vieux, and with another a shared moment of laughter at a fellow visitor's bull dog as he rolls in the deeply staining orange ochre slopes of Roussillon.
We admire the blended earth pottery (called terres melées, quite a stunning achievement of swirled colored clays made into delicate pieces, and clear glazed). We take in the vast views in all directions, and we explore little nooks and crannies of these quaint places. And, de rigueur, we enjoy some scrumptious ice cream before heading back to the hotel.
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