Insight for the night

More Sarlat

Sarlat

What a good day this was. I have one more full day left at Domaine Gaury, and like last time, it's been a nonstop whirlwind of work and play. Yesterday we worked in the morning, sped through winding roads singing to the Flashdance soundtrack to grab lunch in Sarlat and see the old city before heading home to prep for a big barbeque with this week's guests. Dinner was fantastic as usual, with wine as well as conversation in Flemish, French, and English (with a favored Irish epithet) flowing freely. After the reasonable folks went to bed, the rest of us splashed around in the pool and jacuzzi until after midnight. Today we worked steadily, wrapping up a sunny and hot day with dinner and more pool time. Most everybody went to bed early, but I couldn't resist sitting out on the terrace watching the horizon slowly fade to dark and the stars come out, crickets and frogs and who knows what else chiming in to complete the scene.

Tonight at dinner, Kathleen asked me what I'm going to do when I return to the States. This certainly wasn't the first time this trip that I've been asked that question, and I did my best to respond. I expect to stay with a friend, I'd like to be teaching, maybe I'll get other work, there are people and places I'm looking forward to seeing. I'm eager for okra, home ferments, farmer's markets, sunsets on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I plan to dance, swim, hike, and re-connect with friends. But really, beyond that, I have no idea what I'll be doing! And isn't that the point? I wanted a future different from what appeared predictable before I took this journey. I didn't want what I could have imagined from where things were and how they'd been going. If I could've envisioned all that going in a pleasing direction, I would have done my best to stay the course. But it didn't seem possible, to get from where I was to anywhere besides more of the same.

Please, don't get me wrong: I'm saying this about me, about how and who I was. I'm not just pointing the finger at circumstances. I needed to change my internal landscape, to see myself in other lights, to practice being someone I'm just getting to know.

And while I've had a plethora of opportunities and environments over the last three months in which to choose new reactions, the trip ain't over yet! I feel like the chickpea in Rumi's poem: I need more time in the stewpot, to simmer and soften and be fit for sustenance. I looked up at the stars and asked if there was a better answer to Kathleen's question, and here's what I heard:

What's coming next is more than I can currently imagine.

Around the corner...

Of course! I don't know, and cannot know, what lay ahead. Ah. That's a relief. I don't have to think about it, or try to describe it. it's okay to not know; in fact, that's the best thing ever. I can just rest assured that it will be beyond my current imagining, and for that I am thankful.

 

Ceiling of Cathédral Saint-Étienne

 

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