Soar-Dream-France

Defining Loneliness

 

These last weeks, the media has paid a lot of attention to loneliness.

I have a visceral reaction to these discussions. You see, my Mom would (sometimes dramatically) say to me:

 

"You are all alone!"

 

 

Yes, I was divorced. Yes, I lived alone. Yes, my three siblings had partners. Yes, I was on my own. But, I never saw myself as "all alone!"

And to be honest, I don't think that I have ever been "lonely!" 

As the oldest of 4, there were always people around in my family. I was never given the opportunity to be alone or feel "lonely!" In fact, I had the opposite problem. Finding alone time and privacy were impossible. My boyfriend was encouraging me to meditate. I couldn't even find 15 minutes of time on my own without interruptions.

 

I lived at home the 4 years I went to UMSL. When I moved to New Orleans to go to Graduate School in 1976, I decided that I was going to practice being alone. I had my own apartment for the first time in my life. I loved it. I may have done too well. My "practicing" became my way of life.

I am not "alone" in a crowd. I don't feel "alone" or "isolated" living in a rural setting as I do now. I am able to seek people out if I need to. I am able to enjoy my own company.

Of course, everyone has opinions and observations about me and my life.

 

 

On one of my trips to Tour de Faure, I took a shot of a wine glass sitting on the wall of my friends' terrace.

I did a whole series of photos on that early trip.

The brother of a friend of mine loved that particular photo.

He said: "You must really enjoy your own company. I could never do something like that."

I remember thinking how sad I would be if I didn't enjoy being with myself.

 

 

 

As I was making decisions about buying the Chatette in Cadrieu, a friend observed: "You are such a social person, how are you going to survive in a village of 135 people?" I remember saying: "I can have as much or little of people as I want."

 

We know how well that has worked out!

 

Most of the media attention to loneliness focused on some recent studies being done related to mental health. Of course, there is the myriad of social issues we are all facing as a country and in the world.

I would posit that none of this is about "loneliness" per se, but about a collective community grief that has its grip on all of us in different ways.

Ah, but that could be a topic for another post.

 

She Always Brought Me Flowers

 

Every time I see this card I think of our Nannie. Mom lived with Nannie and Papa after her Mom died when she was a teenager. Her Mom and Nannie were sisters. To Mom, they were always "Auntie and Unk!" To us, they were always Nannie and Papa. Mom's Dad had remarried and moved to California. Dad's Mom and Dad were living in New Orleans. Eventually, everyone ended up in St. Louis, but as far as we were concerned, Nannie and Papa were our grandparents.

 

When Mom and Dad and I returned to the states from England, Dad still had some time to finish up in the Air Force. Mom and I lived with Nannie and Papa. Our closeness and love was beyond special.

As a little girl, I remember sitting with Nannie and listening to her stories.

If I knew then what I know now; I'd have been asking questions every time we were together.

I mostly listened.

Lots has stayed with me.

 

 

 

But, I always remember how she talked about Mom and how much she loved her. I'll never forget the look in her eyes when she told me:

"Any time your Mom went shopping, she would always bring me flowers! She is always so good!" 

Today, we are still a family of flowers. We love getting them and giving them. If we couldn't send flowers, we'd send cards with flowers on them.

 

 

The card above came this week for me from my sister. It's a card that we always loved as a family.*

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although they're gone, celebrating Mom and Nannie on Mother's Day is always important to me.

 

We learned from each other, loved each other, and have become the women that we are today because of them.

Happy Mother's Day in heaven to Mom and Nannie, and all the rest!

*The last two photos above are of Mom's Mom, Marie Emme.

Feeling the Wandering

 

 

What do you do when you know you're not yourself, but you aren't really sure what you are?

I've known that I've been wandering through my life for the years since the fire.

 

 

I accepted it. I rolled with the lack of energy and immobilization at times. I didn't like it, but I knew that: losing Mom in 2016; the fire and losing Sam in 2017; BREXIT; losing Dad on New Year's Day of 2020; COVID on the heals of that loss; selling Columbus Street; and, I knew I had to roll with it all the best I could and certainly NOT beat myself up for anything I felt and did or didn't do.

 

 

Often, clarity comes for me in hindsight.  

Interestingly, getting "us" empty of all the useless stuff left over from the early days in the addition, the useless stuff on the terrace and the vernissage cave, cartons, and boxes; gave me new perspective.

 

 

 

It isn't always easy to get things done over here. I expected to just have yet one more dumpster in my life and I would slowly get it all out. I did some research. Asked for some help. And, Christiane found me Monsieur Julien Lascout, who would do it all for me.

Turns out, he didn't need a dumpster and finished everything I'd asked for and more between 10am and 16:00.

 

As I prepared for yesterday last week and then saw yesterday's results; I realized how it wasn't just the memories and losses that were weighing me down, it was the stuff.

 

 

As yesterday went on, I felt like I was back.

When Julien finished, we sat out on the terrace and had a coffee together.

I told him he gave me back my life!

 

 

 

We are moving forward!

 

Resurrecting Memories

 

Early days of here sometimes feel like another lifetime ago for me. I'm so grateful I write in many forms, and that either I, or others, hang on to much of what I've written over the years. Interestingly, we have done a very good job of safeguarding our story of here in ways that easily bring it back to life for me.

With the warmer temps and days of more sunshine, I find myself out on the property. Sometimes I have particular jobs in mind.

 

 

Others, I just wander around in my overalls and work gloves with my pruner(s) in my hand. (And yes, Dad...sometimes I even have a hammer in the hammer pocket of my overalls.) 

 

Last week, I was out at the point with the new manual lawnmower. I inspected the work on the tracks down there. I usually cut past the opening in the wall in the photo above.

As I sat there, I remembered a night on the point when I sat right there drinking Pastis and looking at my beautiful place with the lights on. I wrote to Mom and Dad about it. I have an excerpt for you here:

 

 

There's nothing like sitting out in the dark at the break in the train wall, basking in the lighted glow of the house, while you nibble on swiss cheese and salami and wash it down with pastis!

It's fun when I find my memories are even more detailed and fun than what I might have written!

 

Close Enough to Touch

 

As the new Voie Verte is becoming a reality; I'm realizing that I am grieving the train all over again. It hadn't really hit me until I heard that the tracks will defintely be raised to lay the new path.

It got me thinking and looking back at photos, journals and old letters. This one is particularly fun, and I'd like to share it with you...

 

                                                                                                                                                Mardi, le 27 aout 2002, 8pm

Bonsoir Mom and Dad-

     Well, today's the day and it's been grand. I spent the morning on the terrasse polishing and waxing my table and chairs and I've found a brand new use for Q-Tips. While I was working the Quercy Rail came by close enough to touch and the conductor opened his window to wave and then hollered "Bonjour!" It was an "aha" moment!

 

The Tracks of Trains

 

 

I really seem to be feeling my way with my life here these days.

I am more focused on: me; our life here; France; French; and, being as in the moment as possible, while still honoring the memories and looking forward to the future!

It can be a challenge.

At one point I wrote about feeling the "gones."

Today, I found myself feeling the "stills."

I'm finding strength in letting go and in the power we cannot see!

 

Hmmm, there is a metaphor to be found in the tracks of trains. More specifically, these tracks of trains that at times felt like mine.

 

 

Happy Saturday!

 

Me and Thomas Wolfe

 

Back when Dali, Sammie Cat and I came here to clear our heads after Hurricane Katrina so I could make some difficult decisions; I read Thomas Wolfe's "Look Homeward Angel" for the very first time. The meaning of "home" had escaped me living in my flood ravaged house on Columbus Street.

 

 

 

 

 

My Dad said:

"Go to France, Laury."

 

We did.

 

I still struggled with home.

By Christmas of 2006 the decision had been made.

I was in France. Columbus Street was being repaired so I could rent it out and be able to live here in Cadrieu with my Dali Dog and Sammie Cat.

Of course, it wasn't that easy.

As I was reading Thomas Wolfe, he spoke to me.

Fogs cleared. I didn't struggle so much.

 

 

But when I did, I'd found something wonderful that helped me. I won't make you look for it yourself. I'll put Wolfe's last page, last paragraph, right here for you:

 

--Yet, as he stood for the last time by the angels of his father's porch, it seemed as if the Square already were far and lost; or I should say, he was like a man who stands upon a hill above the town he has left, yet does not say "The town is near," but turns his eyes upon the distant soaring ranges.--

THE END

 

When I did struggle, I'd often picture myself upon a high place above a place I'd just left; holding Thomas Wolfe's hand.

Visualizing was usually enough.

But when it wasn't, I had more than enough high, beautiful places to go.

 

 

High or low, holding Thomas's hand or not; the Lot always brought me home.

 

Begin Again

 

 

This is a post to say that I am trying to feel my way with how I want the blog to fit into what truly does feel like a new and different life for me. All of this change has been on the wind.

If I'm totally honest, my first twenty years of here were more about working towards and building to this second twenty years than I ever could have known.

 

 

It is the new book.

 

 

I've made a couple of changes here that are small but feel huge. Huge in the difference that often screams at me.

I am not changing SOAR-DREAM-FRANCE. Doing that rearranges too much with the blog from prior to now. I have, however, removed "Melange-ing France New Orleans Magic," and changed the subtitle to: "Lot River Love Song-The Next Twenty Years!"

I expect these years and this new book to be more here and less the states. It means more France and French.

It means moving forward in this adventure in ways that were just not possible before.

Both of my feet are planted here.

 

 

 

I am even more deliberately putting one foot in front of the other, petit a petit. My feet are where my head and heart have always been, here.

 

 

I am centered, focused, and closely paying attention to the "lots in the Lot!" I am also feeling a senses of freedom, wonder, excitement and some awe, that I'm not totally sure how to put into words at the moment!

 

 

I'm planning on letting go to enjoy this ride of these next twenty years, and marvel at every step along the way. I'm not really sure where it will take me. I'm hoping you'll come along.

 

Bonne Maman Advent Calendar JOY

 

We are no strangers to Advent Calendars in my family.

Last year, I went a little crazy with them for family and some special friends. Here in France, I treated myself and my neighbors to a Foie Gras Advent Calendar and my friend Christiane to the Thiriet Ice Cream Advent Calendar.

Stateside, it was all Bonne Maman.

 

 

This year I decided to get myself the Bonne Maman Advent Calendar, along with the others I was planning to have sent for gifts.

 

Pretty soon, I realized that since none of my family will be together during the holidays that it might bring us all together if everyone had their own Bonne Maman Advent Calendar. Far be it from me to tell anyone how to do it, but there clearly is a right way and a wrong way. Patience is essential.

Everyone has theirs. Some of us are looking forward to getting started tomorrow. Others have jumped the gun...possibly peeking and partaking. For me, it was fun to think about all of us participating in some remotely parallel activity every day leading up to Christmas.

 

Togetherness at a distance!

I'm guessing there will be more Bonne Maman Stories to share. 

 

 

Happy Advent Calendar Eve!

Happy Wednesday!

 

Loving into the Answers

 

I love taking photos of chairs. There is a lot that I love.

These days, I'm finding myself struggling to settle into a wonderful new life or the "new book" that no longer has the structures, constraints, and musts of old. I am paying attention. I am watching myself. I am feeling my feelings. I am learning a lot more about myself in a whole new way.

What do I want these next twenty years to look like?

The list of what I have given up in the last couple of years is even longer than I had been aware of. Whether it's loss or my own decisions, the reality of the GONE has been an interesting one to ponder. I could go into great detail on each of the "gones" and the impact and changes in my life. Some are huge. Some are more subtle.

 

 

One of the recent ahas for me has been that I no longer need to get onto the laptop every day. Some of that is that I have my SmartPhone and my Fire notebook, that allow me to keep up without full laptop capacity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another part of that is that I am no longer "working" in any capacity. Keeping up my social work license and offering workshops meant that there were periods of time when the laptop was attached to my hip.

 

That isn't necessary any more.

 

In that "gone", I have found that there are some days that I don't even want to turn the laptop on.

It feels good. 

That also means, that I'm not blogging as much since I blog from the laptop and not the other devices.

I am also realizing that these days, I prefer to journal than to blog. Putting pen to paper, holding it in my hand, watching the ink travel the page of whatever pretty journal I've chosen to use next; all make it more enjoyable than pounding the keys and fighting computer and program glitches with my photos.

This "gone" is leading me to re-evaluate my blogging.

I don't want to stop completely, but I want to find my way back to loving it like I used to and blending it more naturally into this new life.

 

 

It will come, probably rising out of the space left by one or more of the gones.

 

 

Here's hoping you'll hang with me!

 

Happy Sunday!