SUNDAY IN FRANCE

Posted on by
Reply

It is Sunday in France. I am surviving the language barrier and time zone change somehow. Sleep finally came on its own last night. I’m feeling more at ease in another country and in another’s home.

I am not a good traveller, preferring the comfort of the familiar. I suspect that there are many like myself. I shall just have to get out of myself and not confine my experiences because of the smallness of my mind and body.

I am venturing out into the world again with my small steps. I will not put the blame of my inadequacies to my 30 plus years of working as a nurse. I am trying but it is much easier in my younger years. I do not have as much resilience and fortitude now. They will come with practice.

I am doing the best I can. That is all that I can ask of myself. It is good to have my words to guide me. I can still tap them out. Do not judge me for my lack of structure and poor grammar. I am not quite in my space. I am happy just to be able to write.

It is sunny on this day in France. I’ve had my tea and toast. I’m tapping to relax my body and mind.

~~

It is now evening. We’ve just come back from an outing around Lac du Der to watch the cranes fly. Along the way we visited a couple of heritage site churches. We spent the afternoon around the reservoir.

I’m poor describing places and events. I’m taking note so I will have something to refresh my mind when I return home. Quite often I return home from vacations with nothing much to show and tell. It really is not a bad thing. Vacations are meant to get away from it all- even yourself.

But there are times like this when I want a bit of memory of where I’ve been.

SATURDAY IN FRANCE

Posted on by
Reply

It’s Saturday morning in La Celle-Sous-Chantermerle. The sun is shining brightly. I have been to the market with our hostess while Rod is out bicycling with the men.

I am tap, tapping on my iPhone, getting proficient, doing almost everything I can do on a laptop. I’m not attempting to insert any photos,just enjoying the beauty of words in black and white.

I am reading Anne Lamott who says good writing is about telling the truth. We all want to know and understand ourselves but the process is about as easy and pleasurable as washing a cat.

I always tell/write the truth – as much as I am aware of it. Sometimes I have to tap very hard to get it out. Other times the truth comes tumbling out from my finger tips. Life is like that.

What is my truth this morning? My body is still rebelling but slowly coming around. I’m slowly learning to take time and just be. There really is no need to react and respond to any stimuli like an amoebae.

~
It is now evening. We have just returned from Provis, a world heritage medieval town from the 11th, 12th and 13th Century. I have to tell you I know very little of France and have not heard of it before. I cannot tell you my impressions. I have to let things sit and settle. I will have to do some research when I get home. More importantly I need some French language lessons.

The truth now is my thoughts are disjointed and I’m rambling like Lewis Carroll. It had worked for him so I’m going to carry on thus. Not everything needs to make sense. Sometimes there’s a lot of wisdom in nonsense. It sounds good anyways.

I DREAM OF ALICE

Posted on by
Reply

It’s a Friday in France. My apple cart is still upset, sleeping only every other night. What can you do when you fly over an ocean and cross time zones? Unfortunately my body is not a machine. It does not go on and on like an EverReady battery.

I am missing the smallness of my life back home – my morning rituals, writing in my sun room with my fur baby at my feet. She knows my moods. She licks my wounds and picks me up. I miss my flow of words.

It is not a bad thing missing the familiarity and comfort of home. It makes me appreciate what I have. I work a little harder and pay a little more attention to the here of France. I am not skilled at details nor at gathering information. I absorb things but can’t spit anything back.

Maybe it seems foolish of me to keep up my writing but it helps my focus. It trains and disciplines mind. It’s not that I want to develop multi-tasking. But if I want to be serious about my writing, I want to learn to be more flexible and be consistent at it.

My routine is disrupted but I can still put my mind in that 15 minute space and in that one-inch picture frame. My concentration and train of thought are scattered to the wind. Can I put my mind to what is right before me, in this place now?

I put aside my small discomforts of travelling as much as I am able. I appreciate the special place I am presently in. Now is the time for expirencing and learning. I look around and take in as much as I am able. It is mentally challenging and tiring at the same time, not knowing the language, not familiar with the culture.

I am a strange woman in a strange place. I am in the desert of my dreams. The shadows of the old have followed me across the ocean. They are nipping closely at my heels. I feel their hot breath against my skin. I hear the snap of their teeth close by. But I elude them.

At times I feel as if I had wandered into another’s life. I am THE Alice who fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. Can I write her story? More importantly, can I write my way out?

That is the key, of course. We have the key to unlock the doors to Wonderland. We can write a different story if we don’t like the one we’re in. We are not trapped. There are ways out of rabbit holes.

MUSINGS IN FRANCE

Posted on by
2

On a Wednesday I’m tap, tapping away on my iPhone. I’m trying to keep the momentum going. I’m such a creature of habit and routine. Little changes can easily upset my apple cart.

Change can be good for the soul. It jars me out of my rut and forces me to look at the world through a new lens. Uncomfortable as it is, it forces me to grow and develop new dendrites. It certainly adds material for the pen.

I don’t understand this reluctance of mine for change. I have never been comfortable with it even when I was younger. I admire those who thrive on it. They are blessed.

But I do TRY. Perhaps we don’t see ourselves objectively. Some people see me as brave and taking chances, always trying something new. I don’t see myself that way. I feel my smallness – the reluctance to let go of the fear and uncertainty.

I’m feeling a bit of this on this cloudy day in France. It must have rained. The balcony is wet. Perhaps it is just a little jet lag, a bit of travel fatigue. I’m tapping it away bit by bit.

I’m not up to my desired number of words. I don’t even know how many I have as there is no word count on the iPhone version of WordPress. I have tried writing on Werdsmith, which has a word count, then copy and pasting onto WordPress. It pastes but only into the box for the title.

It does disrupt flow, not adding to the creative process. But a person can learn to write under all circumstances.

It is Thursday noon in France. We rise late having breakfast after 10. Then it is almost time for lunch. Our host and hostess are having guests for lunch. With my clumsiness in language and manners I offer my help. It is good to be able to do something in return. One feels so selfish and lazy just sitting and receiving.

A CANADIAN IN FRANCE

Posted on by
Reply

It’s Tuesday late afternoon. I’m tap, tapping from the Champaign region in France. I want to keep up my daily writing conversations as best and regularly as I can.

I have to tell you I feel strangely at home in a foreign country. It’s the same wherever I go – Ghana, France, Japan, etc. There’s always a sense of familiarity, Of home. My brain must have a great disconnect or connect, whichever way you want to look at it. Is it its way of comforting itself In a different environment? Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.

I had not slept at all on the plane coming over. It was not time for we are 8 hours behind France. But it was such a relief to board the plane and be on our way after the problems involved with the travel agency.

We landed in Sunny and warm Paris Monday morning about 8:30. Getting off the plane and boarding the bus for transport to the airport, I became aware of the diversity of passengers in ages and ethnic backgrounds. Not knowing the language did not seem important. We all knew where to go and what to do. Or so it seemed.

It was relatively easy getting through immigration and onto the baggage area. Then we saw our family members there to meet us. We were off. We walked some streets of Paris, bought some sandwiches and drinks and had our lunches on a park bench.

We continued with a driving tour of the city after lunch, hitting some of its highlights – Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, etc. It was a nice introduction since we were already in the city. We saw the history surrounding us. There is a lot to see and explore.

I could not keep my eyes open after we left the city. Fatigue claimed me during part of the ride through Champaign country.

LIFE’s HICCUPS

Posted on by
Reply

I’m coming to you not from the comforts of my sunny office. I’m tapping from Gate 7 at the airport.
The morning is bright and sunny. We’ve cleared through security without a hitch, though one of us got thoroughly patted down.

Checking out boarding passes we see that we are in different rows – 22 and 50, compliments of Rod’s new issued ticket incident, I am sure. I feel my forehead creasing, a lump in my throat forming. I feel my night-before-ativan-acquired ease unceasing. I am getting ticked off – with myself.

What! so quickly and easily. I put my hand over my heart and mutter a Robin William ‘s Namoo, Namoo to myself. Ok dokey!  All chakras are A-okay again. My head feels clear, my face relaxed and smooth.  No lump in my throat. I envision myself in my 15 minute space. I look through the eye of the needle into the one-inch picture frame. What am I seeing?  What am I hearing and feeling?

I see that Rod has gone up to the info desk at the gate to see if our seating could be changed. I see that he is clearly upset and distraught, throwing his arms in the air. I hear an UNBELIEVABLE!  I’m trying to relay to him that it’s okay that our seating is separate. It’s not a big deal.

Well,it really is a big deal!  It is not about the seating. My ticket got REFUNDED! My bag has now been set aside. Rod is on the phone to Flight Centre and is unable to get through.  Today is Sunday and it is Thanksgiving. We’re getting a turkey after all.

Meanwhile Air Canada is trying to work it out here at the airport. We learn that there are still 2 tickets issued to Rod and Rodney. Instead of canceling the one to ‘Rod’ , mine got cancelled. Will they let me fly?  

They are calling our flight. The Air Canada agent comes over. They can sell me another ticket for the original price. We wIll have to deal with Flight Centre after. We buy another ticket for me. We’ve. Bought 4 tickets total now. It’s bit of a gong show.

I’m so happy that I took an Ativan last night. I have a reasonable chance of arriving in France calm and collected. N’est pas?  

excusez moi pour errors!  At airport at Toronto!

LIFE IN SMALL TRICKLES AND WHIMPERS

Posted on by
2

I’m showing up this morning, dressed but I’ve dispensed with brushing the hair and teeth. I’m straight into the Chai.  I’m a little sleep deprived.

The trouble with our flight booking and prepping Sheba for boarding got to me last night. Mostly it was Sheba’s whimpering and whelping.  We’re getting her re-acquainted with the crate as the boarder keeps the dogs in their crates at night and when she’s not at home. Sheba had been crate trained as a puppy and spent time in one when I was at work.

IMG_5722I didn’t think there would be trouble re-introducing it.  But she is terribly spoiled. She had slowly inched her way out of the crate and into cornered off spaces.  Now she has the run of the house and sleeps in our room and wherever she pleases.  She has been re-acquainted with the crate and will go into it for her meals and at night.  But during the night she starts whimpering, escalating into little yelps.  She knows how to get to me.  I’ve been letting her out after a couple of hours the last 2 nights.

I’m hoping she is just testing us and will behave better at the boarding place.  I’m trusting that everything will work out.  I’ve done the best I could getting things ready.  Now I have to trust and let go.

I’m doing well, despite feeling like hell.  It’s the sleep or no sleep the last couple of nights. And to think I’ve lived like this for over 30 years as a nurse.  I slept 4-5 hours a working- day/night for all those years.  I see clearly now the why(s) of my problems.

You will have to excuse the grammatical errors and the disjointedness of my thoughts.  I am not operating on full cylinders.  I have trouble with tenses at the best of times.  I am happy that I can still tap out some words and thoughts this morning.  It is not easy but it is also not difficult.  I put my fingers on the keyboard and look at that one-inch picture frame in my mind.  The words come  out in little stuttering trickles at first.  As my mind clears, the sentences come.  I have not experienced a flood or deluge yet.

That’s all I ask for this morning – a trickle, a beginning, a foot into that space of serenity beneath Buddha’s Bodhi tree.  And I’m here, in that space.  I have a beginning into the day.

IMG_0966

HOW MUCH DOES 3 LETTERS COST?

Posted on by
4

IMG_5433We’re getting ready to fly to France in a couple of days.  We are not packed but our flights have been booked for awhile now since Sept. 5th.  Preparation for travel has never been my cup of tea.  I envy those who gets excited and thrive on it.  I am a nervous tumbleweed until I am at the airport and there’s no turning back.

As you all know, I’ve been working hard turning the tide, making consistent small changes, developing healthier habits, attitudes.  I’ve been dedicated in making PROGRESS through my writing, pushing for at least 500 words a day.  I have been succeeding – using my 15 minute segments and looking through just that one-inch picture frame.

IMG_1178Somehow, Lewis Carroll and Alice in Wonderland have been most helpful.  In what way I am not quite sure.  Have you read it?  It really is not a children’s book.  At first it seems all nonsense but as I am reading, I see that’s how the world is much of the time – full of bureaucratic nonsense.  I say pota-to.  You say potat-o.  I say they are both the same.  No, they’re not!  Round and round we go.

We’ve been immersed in it for so long, we can’t tell nonsense from common sense any more.  Alice is teaching me to look and think outside the box.  I am no longer a rat in a maze.  I have found an escape hatch – down the rabbit hole.  Have I really?

Yesterday after I came home from a walk with Sheba, my partner said to me.  “I have something to tell you about Flight Centre.”  He had a serious expression on his face. The air went still and there seemed to be a strange buzz.  I asked him what it was.

A month ago, he had gone to Flight Centre on Broadway Avenue in person to check about flights and airfare.  He had even asked what the advantage would be to book through them rather than doing it himself online.  Their answer was that they do the work and they’re there to protect his back.  That’s their motto too on their website.

Why Choose Flight Centre?
Expert Service

Save Time, Save Money

  • Book your way – Online, phone or email
  • 24/7 availability – we are always here to help
  • Lowest Airfare Guarantee
  • Getting it right the first time, avoid unexpected costs

In the end the opposite happened.  It took quite a few phone calls to get the booking and then more phone calls to receive the e-ticket and itinerary.  He had to do the follow up every time.  It did not save time nor money.  When the e-ticket came, he noticed right away, the name did not match his passport’s.  It was Rod, instead of Rodney.

At the time the agent took his information at the office, she did not ask whether Rod was the name on his passport.  She had not mentioned passport at all nor asked to see it. There was no red alert in the email for him to check that. The fine print asked was the information was correct and he did sign it.  A *is this the name on your passport in red would have caught his attention. So where was the expert service?  Where was the watching out? An expert should know the pitfalls a traveller could fall into.

You would think that since we caught the mistake beforehand, correcting it would not be an issue or that costly.  BUT it is.  They could not make a correction on the ticket.  The ONLY recourse, Flight Centre says after speaking to the airlines, Air Canada and Lufthansa,  is to cancel the ticket and issue another at the current price of $1800 something from $1100 something.

Normally there would be a $300 fee for cancelling the ticket but they would charge him just $100.  Such generosity!  And oh yes, he couldn’t just pay the difference of the cost.  He has to pay the $1900 something. The refund of the cancelled ticket will be processed in a month or two. Both the first and second payment were taken in a nano second.  I wonder why refunds take so long?  The mills of bureaucracy grind ever so slowly.  I recognize it now.  I’ve been here before. This is a refresher course, a mini workshop in case I have forgotten.

I failed to see reason in all this.  Rod will still be flying on the same flight, same plane to the same destination – basically on the same ticket with 3 more letters added to his name. Is it a far stretch for them to get Rod from Rodney?  They know he is still the same guy but now his new ticket has 3 more letters added to his name.  They had his birthdate and it is still the same on all his IDs.  Well, so much for common sense.  It is not common after all.

Enough of Alice’s Lily’s non sensible mutterings.  I’ve used up my 15 minutes and my one-inch picture frame.  Time to let go of bureaucratic red tapes.  They work in one direction only and they clearly have us by the balls.  We can only squeak and squawk in discomfort. We need to loosen our pants a little, go out and enjoy the sun and do some packing.

The south of France with its vineyards await us.  So does a little baby girl.

La Celle Village.

RIDING WITH THE FONZ

Posted on by
5

Early morning wakening.  I’m at my desk with my Chai.  I’m browsing Facebook and the Internet.  I am in danger of relapsing into my unfocused/ no mind.  Time to rein it in.  It is like an undisciplined child.  Give it a minute to wander and it will take 2 or 3.  Unchecked, it will take a whole day!

Little things are niggling at my mind, disturbing my zen and sleep.  Little things like – Did I really close the garage door this time?  There’s not much time.  Did I tipped enough? Oh, I wish -.  These little things that niggle, wiggle under my skin!  They are not clear enough, important enough to articulate out loud.  Yet they dig at me, making me mentally squirm.

I feel the furrow deepening between my eyebrows.  No doubt it is from constant frowning. I smooth it with my two fingers.  I could feel my face relaxing and unfolding, the creases and furls smoothing out.  I tap, tap on my keyboard, limbering up the fingers.

Ah, the sun is rising.  I see it peeping through the branches of the spruce trees.  Time to get up, stretch, turn off the lights and get another cup of Chai.  A change of pace might chase away those niggling things.

The sun is shining brightly through the kitchen window, dancing across the room, projecting its presence on the wall.  How beautiful is the morn!  I put water in the kettle to boil and set about opening the blinds.  I catch Sheba scampering off.

I take my Chai back to my office.  I do the 18 moves of Master Wan’s quigong exercise.  I am unsure at first.  My mind is a blank screen, trying to recall the moves.  I have neglected the routine for a long while.  But I as begin the Sunrise Movement, things fall in place. Each move comes to me one by one, finishing with the Sunset.

In the moment, I recognize my dyslexity – my disability of thinking one thing at a time, my inability of finding my way out of a wet paper bag.  I see the whole enchilada, but I have trouble making out any of the different ingredients.  I need the recipe.  I need to take time to register the ingredients.  Otherwise I’m like the cake left melting out in the rain – a MESS.

I was lost, but NOW I am found.  I see my problem.  I rush at life, rush at things, thinking there is no time, no time.  Life is a tough road to navigate with many detours at times.  You cannot jump through all the barricades at one go.  I have to clear one hurtle at a time.

There were many times I had fallen off my bike, thinking I had to stop and get off at the very same instant.  Then someone taught me, drove through my thick skull, that I have time to stop and THEN get off.

IMG_6204I still have relapses into fear, getting on and off a bike.  I breathe and deliberately take the time to stop, get off and start gain.   My brain knows I have the time.  I am working on my mind to catch up.  I will in time become poetry in motion, riding down the street.

I record those moments when I feel ‘one with the universe’.  The phrase sounds nebulous, a little silly, hippyish and as the Fonz would say, COOL, man!

It really is COOL when you are in the flow, when you can navigate life’s highway without stress and anxiety.  You get into the driver’s seat and just go.  You know all the moves of starting up, changing gears, etc.  You know the way.  You can relax and enjoy the ride.

YOU CAN TEACH AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS

Posted on by
4

IMG_1462I am a little slow with my morning words.  But I am sitting here, finishing my Chai.  I’m still in my pyjamas but I have combed out my bed head.  I am surrounded by sunlight.

Sheba comes running into the room.  She has sensed our furry neighbour out on the deck. She rears up on her hind legs, barking out her greeting.  Mr. Fur Ball yips back in return. He enjoys this!  Sheba is reprimanded and runs away, crying to her favourite man.

I am still mourning  Dr. Sophia Yin’s death.  Can one mourn someone they have never met? Then I learn of another tragedy, the death of Ron Francis, an RCMP officer.  Such serendipitous moments for me.  Clearly there is a message for me.  I hear Gracie Heavy Hand‘s voice saying:  Stay calm.  Be brave. Watch for the sign.

I hear the message.  I am brave.  I see the sign.  I have moved on – away from the scene of the traumas and stress.  I am not wallowing and glorifying how well I am doing despite all that – any more.  I am not living as if everything is an emergency and there is no time.  I am out of the fire.  My body forgets at times.  It comes on alert with a trigger, the adrenalin pumping, heart pounding, getting ready for the fight or flight.  It’s okay.

It has had to operate on alert mode for so many years.  It will take time to unlearn the response.  I have time.  I don’t have to pull up my socks and get on with it.  I can weep, I can get mad.  I can take a nap.  I can fall apart, knowing I can put myself together again.  I can just be. There no longer is a raging fire, just the dying embers.  They will go out.

In the meantime…

IMG_4923I can listen to the silence of this morning.  The dogs are no longer barking.  The sun is warm on my back and Sheba as she lays next to me.  I can honour and appreciate Dr. Sophia Yin’s work that she’s left behind.

I can continue to work on my goal and tap, tap out my words in 15 minute segments, in a one-inch picture frame.  I can write that book – a line, a page, a story at a time.  I can do different.  I can learn new tricks.  There’s plenty of time.

How are you doing?  Do you have any beef, passion or insight you want to share?  Writing it out is a great way to dissipate angst and open your chakras.  And you just never know what can follow.

I’ve done my rant.  Time for my 15 minute slow jog with Sheba.  The sun beckons.