The pull of a place

In 2009 Jack and I drove from California, where we'd spent three years training in Alexander Technique, back home to the east coast. Our route involved several switchbacks in order to visit family: first to Pennsylvania and Delaware, then to Kentucky, then finally to Asheville.

Driving cross-country, in my experience, is an exercise in delirium. The monotony of the road, the discomfort of so-long sitting, the inevitable boredom with the stacks of CDs, books on tape, and conversation are hardly moderated by frequent stretch breaks, chair yoga, even the occasional hotel pool.

Appalachian vista

I remember distinctly that I was in a vague state of sleep in the passenger seat when it happened, each time: a strong pull compelled me to open my eyes, and realize we were crossing the Appalachian mountains. Three times I awoke this way, and was moved not only by the mountains' beauty but by the surge of energy I felt in their presence.

Left Bank neighborhood

A few days before embarking on this trip to France, I took a walk in the woods. A deliberate one, where I was conscious of sensing that mountain terrain under my feet while wondering out loud what the terrain of my ancestors would feel like. I haven't been everywhere in France of course, but I've been through (almost*) all the places my relatives have lived.

Ceiling,Église de Saint Nicolas du Chardonnet

Before leaving Paris in April, I walked to the cathedral where my great-great-grandparents were married -- noticing an unusual emotional sensitivity and appreciation for the surrounding neighborhood, but unawares until later that I had happened to walk past both of their family residences listed on the wedding certificate. You might remember, too, that in a Paris cemetery I was nudged out of a somnolent mood by the sudden appearance of a gravestone with my family name.

Well, it happened again today! A fierce head cold has been dogging me, and I was nearly passed out against the train window when I perked up at the approach of a little station. As I admired these particular trees and cottages, a woman in front of me repeated several times to her seat mate: "La Suze-sur-Sarthe." My grandmother's hometown! From my seat across the aisle I eyed the street I could see leading away from the station. I wish I'd gotten straight up and moved to the closer window, because when the train started up we crossed the river Sarthe and I could see a beautiful bridge and village. Oo la la! Thank goodness these places don't go away-- my most favorite thing about France is that it's been lived in, walked on, and farmed for so many generations -- and now I know I'll be back to stop in that little town, walk its avenues, listen for my grandmother's footsteps.

Bridge over the river Sarthe

* Thursday I plan to go to Saint Arnoult des Bois, to inquire about my relatives who (used to) live there. Wish me luck....

 

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The funnest travel day yet!

Goodies from the train

After a sweet farewell to Kathleen, Yves and Domaine Gaury, I caught the first of three trains. The second one was 30 minutes late to start, and then stalled on the tracks, resulting in a 2-hour delay. But SNCF gave us all snack boxes for compensation (and I think I might get some reimbursement out of it!).

Gare de Montparnasse

At the Paris-Austerlitz train station I asked two chatting women for advice on my next connection, and not only did they point me in the right direction, but one gave me a pass for the necessary métro transfer! French people are so nice :-)

My train: doesn't it look like a dragon?!

On board the subway car, I met a woman traveler who had just completed a section of the pilgrimage route Le Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle, near where I spent my first HelpExchange. Turns out she'd read the French novel I've been working through, a funny and touching story of intergenerational farm life. We caught our respective trains, and as I boarded my revised connection I asked a passenger if I could borrow her phone to tell my hosts of my delayed arrival time. Turns out her son and theirs attended school together! When I arrived at the station, I again saw the pilgrim and we conversed some more until I got picked up (my big green backpack is an excellent beacon).

Corinne's house

And now I'm in the Loire Valley! The weather is lovely though the mosquitoes are fierce. I'm staying with the family of my teaching colleague Corinne (who fed me homemade white pizza for dinner), attending her workshop this weekend, and looking forward to exploring this region's castles and wine.

Nice backyard! Overlooking the Loire river

 

 

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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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Dreaming the body

What I love about teaching Alexander Technique is how thinking about what I'm going to say to my student, as well as the work itself, has me delve more deeply into what it means to be aware of where I am in space and time. I've been working with Rana twice a day, interspersed with walks in the countryside, some weeding, just sitting outside, and also a fair amount of typing on my iPad. I haven't yet figured out how to use my iPad without compressing myself somewhere, somehow, which as a teacher of ease is especially confounding! It also alerts me to my operating perception of needing to be online, to stay up-to-date with everyone else's goings-on, to find answers to my questions. Ideally, I would be able to successfully manage my physical well-being while checking email and scrolling through posts. But what if those are mutually exclusive? In the interest of confronting my own bad habits, I am asking myself: Can I take a break from Facebook? Can I, for a little while, just stay focused on my own experience? Can I let go of wondering what to do next, and just be here now? I've given myself the gift of being in a novel place, removed from any sense of everyday, and the Alexander Technique is an exceptional means to awaken all my senses, to give up any impulse to get ahead of myself.

I mentioned in a prior post that I have infrequently wondered if I could have lucid dreams. It's not surprising that I haven't managed yet, because I haven't been clear what I might do if I were to become lucid in a dream. But working with Rana and being in a secluded environment gave me an idea. Before going to sleep last night and again after waking from my first dream, I intended to become lucid by repeating the phrase 'I'm dreaming,' since sooner or later I would be - and hopefully I'd realize it! My intention, once lucid, was to be Fully Aware in my body – to use all my Alexander Technique training to be as Here, Now, in my physicality as humanly (!) possible, and to express love and appreciation for every cell in my body.

I didn't quite make it to lucidity in my dreams last night, but one was actively physical (successfully navigating traffic on a bicycle) and the other was visual as well as auditory (I heard a voice speak in French a poem that was being filled in as I watched, a poem expressing confidence in my abilities). The feeling I experienced upon waking from both dreams was a deep sense of appreciation for me, like what you can sense emanating from a parent or teacher or audience when they are admiring your determination, talent, or obvious enjoyment, when you are doing what you are doing not for approval but for the sheer thrill of exploration and expression.

My dad used to say, "You're a piece of work, kid!" And my mom, for all of my life, has positively radiated this kind of love for me. Believing this sort of appreciation from my parents can be tough, because my own ideas about myself and them get in the way. But when I'm sleeping, I know I am more receptive to messages from the Universe. And these dreams tell me that my efforts to focus on experiencing my embodiment are a source of awe and joy and inspiration; that my desire to wholeheartedly embrace and revel in my physicality are cheered and celebrated by the awareness of All That Is.

Wild strawberries and yaourt

Don't I have the best fans, ever!!

 

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Ten years ago

Last night as I lay in bed, I found myself thinking of my Dad -- his last words to me before he died, watching his body slow down and stop on the Autumnal Equinox of 2012, how I'm here now in France because of him (to connect with my heritage, and because he left me money to afford the trip). I brought with me on this journey a copy of a letter he wrote to me ten years ago (maybe even exactly, it's not dated but I remember clearly receiving it in late spring/early summer). That April I turned 30 and had come to the empowered realization that I didn't have to wait for life to bring me what I wanted; I could - and wanted to - take some matters into my own hands.

When my dad's father died, I was just 5 years old. It was the first and maybe only time I heard my dad cry, when he got the phone call from the hospital during dinner. What I remember of my grandpapa is him teaching me to count in French, and seeing his frail body but kind smile. Years later I appropriated from the living room desk drawers a few scraps of paper with aphorisms in his meticulous handwriting, and a black-and-white photo of him reading the newspaper, dressed like a gentleman, legs crossed and sitting tall in an armchair. His legacy to me and my brother was some money that my father put in the stock market. A prudent investor, my dad's approach was to buy safe stocks and let them accumulate for half a lifetime. This wisdom paid for me to go to college, with a little left over that I believed I would receive when I turned 25.

Ten years ago, 25 had come and gone and whenever I asked my dad about turning those stocks over to me he refused, saying he didn't believe I would manage things well. But when 30 came, I decided to contact the companies directly and ask what could be done. No problem, they said! You're well past being a minor; just send a copy of your birth certificate and the transfer is complete. There'd be a fee without the original documents, which I informed my dad about, as well as my self-righteous intention to deduct said fee from a car loan I had borrowed him. I planned to use the money to support myself as a potter (those of you who've known me that long remember my passion for it, as well as my financial frustration; if that's a new revelation about me to you, you can see images of pots I made here).

This letter is the only one he ever wrote me (not counting cards and post-it notes), and I treasure it. (I left the endearing typos.)

Dear Dear Michele

I must tell you how I really was impressed with your letter. It tells me you have the guts to go for what you want "Great" Even though its not my idea of what I thing you should be doing My idea is that one should have a steady job like everyone else and these other things be on the side. You have chosen to do the opposite which scares me because its easy to fail in something that is different but it is your choice. I too rebelled against my father when I wanted something and he would not agree. I am glad you took the bull by the horns about your stock. I would have done the same but remember this, they are a money maker for you. If you need to get a loan those stocks can get you money without spending them, keep that in mind that's a lot of money. I once wanted a 1955 CHEVY with power everything, my father didn't think I should have it so I sold my E-BONDS to pay for it so sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns.

About the money, when you tell people you are going to pay them it is important that you keep your word. If I call a stockbroker and tell him to buy stock for me he expects to be paid it is called a verbal contract. You must honor your commitment. So when you said you sold your car and could send [money] I expected that you would so can [you] see how I felt (sorry) get the picture?

OK Kid I still love you, we may not see each other thinking but your still my kid

Love Dad

P.S. The difference between me and your credit card is I never charged you interest

No, Dad, you never charged me interest. And your wisdom, acceptance and love for me are still paying dividends. That meal you looked forward to sharing, all of us together, with wine and my homemade bread? I'm having it now, and you're here with me, laughing and singing and enjoying.

Thank you...

Much love,

Your dear, dear Michèle

 

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Reflections on what's been

I am once again in the train station of Toulouse, not quite two weeks after my entry "Reflections on what's next." Now I know! And it's been good! Although not without periods of angst and hunger. So far the impetus to seek out more French language has not been the criteria that's yielded the easiest connection. But hey, I came here to muck around a bit, clarify my intentions, right?

So here's what I learned: 1) It's hard work to understand French spoken by French people! Which has heightened my desire to study the language, to listen more to recordings, to practice reading and writing, to get coaching on my speech, so that it flows more easily into my head and out of my mouth. I'd love to sound like some of the train announcements -- picture an elegant, mature French woman with excellent diction and clear direction. This is not something I will accomplish on this trip, and at this point I'm okay with that: My overall travel fatigue has left me more at ease with taking the easy road and speaking English when my host can, too.

2) Just because I'm in France doesn't mean I'm eating well -- either because my host doesn't keep much food in the house, or doesn't have a refrigerator or even running water, or because it's near torture for me to wait until 10pm, or later, for dinner. (This is why I have steered clear of visiting Spain!) Not all of the bread, or cheese, or meat, in France is good. I've even heard it's possible to have bad wine, although perhaps because of my ignorant taste buds I cannot yet corroborate that!

3) Those amended desires just keep being born, since those experiences do, too. I'll paste below a journal entry two days before I was determined to move on from my last host's place, when I was all aglow in appreciation. Not to say that I am now without appreciation, far from it! It just changed, into looking ahead to how much I wanted to appreciate clean hands, a break from bread, clear energy. (Which I totally got!)

And now, I am again waiting for a train, amused and pleased at how in the last two weeks I've eaten the best ever white-chocolate-raspberry cake baked in a wood-fired oven, made steady progress on a French novel, weeded garden beds of strawberries, vegetables, and herbs, helped build the frame of an outdoor kitchen, looked down the sheer side of an enormous dam on Le Canal du Midi-Pyrénées, swum and soaked in thermal waters, and met people from Scotland, Russia, England, Tunisia, Australia, and Estonia, as well an authentic Basque descendent, the last of a lineage from the 11th century. I shared some spiritual yoga with a new old friend, read Tarot, admired a rainbow over Mount Bugarach, passed through a psychic barrier at Rennes-le-Chateau, savored a chausson de pommes* that made the ones in Paris taste like chausson de vieux chaussettes**, played table tennis and climbed a jungle gym. I even ran into people I knew, recognizing outside a Carcassonne giftshop the Australian couple I'd met in a café in Rennes-les-Bains. Small world!

Not bad, eh?!

* "chausson" translates as slipper, and is a pastry the shape of a slipper, filled with baked apples.

** slipper filled with old socks!!

Journal entry, May 27:

I am having a really good time here with Anne. It's a primitive, Gypsy set-up. I'm thankful for the life experiences that have made it possible for me to acclimate comfortably to a scenario like this! It's a change, but I can handle it. I like giving myself the opportunity to be adaptable. I like feeling able to respond positively to all sorts of scenarios. It's fun to see how other people live. It's nice to be welcomed into so many homes. I like getting more clarity about my preferences, for hospitality, meals, company. It's fun to see how the universe fulfills all my requests! Like my motorcycle ride yesterday – yay!! I'm so glad I did yoga on the field beforehand, since it took a lot of work on my legs. But what a marvelous way to see the countryside. It made me consider whether I would get a license myself to drive a motorcycle through the mountains and countryside of France. I really am having the time of my life. It's all coming together perfectly. I didn't realize how much of the trip would be affected by other helpers, as much as hosts. Nor the weather; I think I might have been more uncomfortable if the weather was as sunny as usual. There's still so much to discover, and I feel certain that I'll get to. I can totally imagine doing this sort of thing again! It's fun to travel this way. There have been wonderful aspects to every situation. I'm curious what will happen next, and eager to see how delightful it will be. I really like this. I'm having a really, really, good time! And did I mention I answered the phone this morning? And spoke to someone in French, and it went fine?! It's becoming more comfortable for me, my vocabulary is expanding, I like it more and more. It's fun to speak French, to hear it, and it especially fun to understand, and feel at ease expressing myself. This is a really, really good experience.

 

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What's most important

Bugarach mountain

The sun came out today - a big change from weather that has been unfathomably cold and wet for the south of France. It was my first day awakening in the yurt-like home of Anne, my host in the forest at the foothills of Mount Bugarach.

Gluten-free, raw food tables

Anne arranged for a ride to the market for the two Estonian Helpers already here, while she and I and 9-year-old Peter walked down the road toward Rennes-les-Bains until a neighbor gave us a lift to the hippie market at Esperaza (notable for the didgeridoo, dreadlocks, and unmistakeable aromas ;-) For lunch Anne and I had a raw food plate ("assiette cru"), the Estonians some Indian fare from a food truck.

Market-goers

Look at the size of the paella pan!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We walked from the market to her friend Hughes' house, where Anne's mother Joan has been staying while visiting from Scotland. Normally Joan stays with Anne, but we're here occupying all the beds, and it's been cold and raining and Anne's kitchen burnt down in February, so she's more limited in her ability to host. Today was Mother's Day in France (why they have a different date than every other country that celebrates it, I don't know!), and we celebrated all afternoon with a picnic, Hughes on guitar, Johannes on drum, and an open campground field to dance in and watch the dogs play.

An afternoon picnic

How amazing is it to have conversations - in the first afternoon of meeting someone - that touch on the spiritual nature of existence, on reverence for the natural world, on the essence of music, on what's most important in life? I felt an immediate appreciation for Joan, who is soon to turn 86 (from her head-high leg kicks and air-dueling with her grandson, Anne, Hughes, and Yusef, you would never guess!!). She told me many stories of her life, from first meeting her husband, living in Africa, losing a child of 14 months to malaria, being sent to live with a "horrid" aunt after her father died when she was 15. What struck me from the beginning was how frequently she said, "I'm very lucky." In every one of those stories, she felt lucky: it was several coincidences that brought her husband into her life; she has a visual memory, and so always remembers a happy moment with her lost child; being subject to her aunt's disdain strengthened her spirit. Through all of it, she declared, her sense of humor is what she values most about herself. It's what's helped her find the goodness in every situation.

Anne and Joan dueling

I'm thinking of all the ways I am lucky. I've lived such a beautiful life so far, filled with adventures and friendships and boredom and heartbreak. I'm lucky to have my own mom to celebrate, and so thankful for Skype that's allowed us to stay in touch while I'm traveling. I'm lucky for all of it. I came to France hoping to experience family life, and I've been welcomed into so many homes. I'm lucky to encounter so many warm and genuine people, to see how they live, to break bread with them, to contribute to their gardens, to recognize our kinship.

And I'm lucky to have all of you, reading these words, as part of my extended vibrational family. Thank you!

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