night time musings

3:30 a.m. I probably shouldn’t read travel journals before bed. The excitement (and an aching shoulder) keep me awake. The journey. Paris. The details. How will I get to my apartment? My apartment!! I will live in Paris for just over a week. Rue Cler market near my new home. The little details swirl through my head. Can you drink the water? How will I avoid pickpockets? Bus or taxi? Will the drivers speak English?

I see myself rolling my suitcase through the cobblestone streets. Lost or exploring? If I take the Air France bus, my stop will be the Arc de Triomphe. How perfect! It must be done. The grand adventure, awaited a lifetime, coming so quickly. Too soon? No. It is time.

The “before” details. Hair appointment. Pedicure. The right bag. A new journal. Shall I take my favorite pen? Absolutement! I need another camera card. A money pouch. Xerox my documents. Print out instructions. Contact Tess.

What will I plan and what will I simply allow to happen? The surprise. Oh my goodness!! The surprise and adventure of it all. My French is inadequate, but it will be fine. Little movies run through my head. I am encouraged by Alice Steinbach—another woman traveling alone. Shall I take my scissors & glue? Absolutement! French magazines and maps will become my journal. A visual of the time.

What will I do that first day? Walk. Stroll. Wash my face from the all night journey. See the neighborhood. The Arc de Triomphe. The Eiffel Tower. Mona Lisa. (Yes, I have heard she will disappoint and still I need to see her for myself, but not the first day.) Ice cream on the Ile de la Cite. Where will me by favorite café? My favorite patisserie? Will I brave going to dinner alone? Will I make friends? Shall I take tours or do it solo?

That is the fun. I do not have to decide. It is my trip. My journey. Without reservations…or at least with only the necessary ones…the plane and the lodging confirmed. I have two weeks now to prepare. Whew!! I need to get to sleep!

Planning Paris

The plane tickets are purchased, the studio apartment (with free internet, of course) has been rented and for the first time in my life I acquired travel insurance. This is my personal little way of insuring that nothing will happen to keep me from going to Paris ☺. Reverse psychology or something like that, you see?

Thus far everyone I have encountered is delighted and saying “Go! Go! Go!” –with the exception of my 15-year-old daughter who thinks it is she who should be going; and a few friends who think I am nuts to go by myself. (But to be perfectly honest, I think they may just be a little jealous ☺.)

Since this adventure in many ways started with a blog post and I have received nothing less than enthusiastic support from my commenters, it seems only fair that I should keep you up to speed and include you in the plan makings! So, here we go:

Leave Seattle Wednesday, February 27. Arrive Paris Thursday, February 28.
My neighborhood is “in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower”. Don’t you just love that?
I will be returning home on Friday March 7. So, that is eight days and nights in the City of Light. ☺

Now, here is where you come in. A few helpful commenters have already given me “must do’s” for the trip. Your task is to add your own dreams to my list. If you’ve been to Paris before—great! If not, no worries just tell me what you would want to do if you went to Paris. Or perhaps even your favorite movie or book about Paris. Or what you would wear as an American in Paris (or what you wouldn’t wear.) You get the gist of this. You can continue to help me dream, sight see and pack. In return, I promise to take you along on the journey (virtually, of course ☺.)

Here to start the list are a few of my favorite suggestions thus far:

1) Sit in the garden with Rodin’s “The Thinker” on an overcast day. (Theresa)
2) The Musee d’Orsay comes highly recommended by many.
3) See the accessible gargoyles on Notre-Dame and the medieval treasures of the Musee Cluny. (Barbara)
4) Please make sure to touch the small brass ring in the ground in front of Notre Dame to ensure your return to Paris one day. (Pamela)

So, please make your own suggestions and I will add them to the list as we count down to Paris.
(18 days!)

Vessels

Vessels. Mother as vessel. Woman as vessel. Broken. Cracked. Whole. Sacred vessel. Holy vessel. Pregnant with hope and life.

A vessel for the season of Lent. If the vessel is closed, I cannot be fed. If it is poured to overfilling, it may crack. Today my vessel feels empty. No, it has been emptied for Lent with wonder and expectation, but the filling of Ash Wednesday was painful and venomous. I would rather be empty than filled with this poison. I do not enjoy this process of filling and emptying. Especially when my choice feels limited. When a fire hydrant opens and pours into your tiny jar, how can it not be tossed around, cracked or broken?

The choice becomes how to be in the brokenness. How to become a vessel that is open to let in the feelings that need to be felt, but to narrow the opening and not let poison fill me to the top. How do I learn to receive the pain that is mine to receive and not carry the guilt for that which I have no control over?

This season of lent feels so much about tending to my vessel. Being gentle with the cracks while not ignoring them. Mending the breaks that I can. Seeing myself as whole. A sacred vessel. Pregnant with hope and life…some days a little more than others ☺.

How are you called to tend the cracks of life? Have you ever considered yourself as vessel? What will help you stay open to God rather than closing off and obstructing your own pathway?

collage by lucy

Imbolc

Imbolc. For three mornings now this word has been drifting in and out of my mind. (Probably starting with this post.) Imbolc is translated as “in the belly” and that seems to be exactly where the stirring sits. Inside. Embodied. Changing. Shifting.

Last week Sunrise Sister asked, “Has an old person moved into your body?” Some days it feels like one has as my knees creak and my body stiffens. But there is a very young person inside saying, “Make room for me. I have much to do and life to live!”

For many years I had a great discipline of walking several miles most days of the week as well as exercising on a regular basis. Somewhere along the way those disciplines drifted away. While still active, I realize that I now spend more time sitting, writing, and reading. I have not been sleeping as well at night and my head often pounds in the morning when I awaken. Again, I here the voice that says, “Take care of yourself. There is too much to do…to create…to see…to live!”

And so in this way of listening, I happened upon my Lenten practice for the year. It will be a time to take care of my body. Not in a “boot camp” sort of way, but gently and intentionally. Today is Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, which announces the beginning of Lent. Lent traditionally means a time of fasting which can in itself ring of deprivation and another start to already failed New Year’s resolutions. That is not what I am feeling for this season. Again, it is gentler, kinder and more being mindful of how I am treating my body. What I am putting in it. How I will keep it moving. Where I will find rest. It honestly reminds me of being pregnant. Thinking of a seed sprouting from inside. New birth. Growth. Taking care of my body as if it were pregnant, because (figuratively speaking) it is!

Germinating new moments & creations. Moving toward life. What is stirring in your belly as we enter this season of Lent?

Witness

Yesterday I saw God. I saw God in the face of a child. In the eyes of grown men. In the embrace of a friend. In the glow of my husband. All…Skipping. Running. Resting. Excited & joyful. Tender & strong. Men of all ages. Young. Old. In-between. All of them, little boys & men of strength. Unwavering. Speechless & shouting. Hoarse & ever so clear. On their knees & scaling the highest mountain. God was there. Brother and sister. Two souls connected as one. Mother and daughter. Heart sisters. All joined together. Magic. Holy. Eternal. The eyes of a child. Yesterday I saw God. Amen.