Before we left on our Retreat, Elisabeth suggested we print some Sprinkling cards in French and bring them wit us. What a fun idea! Even though for years I have been saying that the Happiness Sprinkling would not fly in France (I have visions of getting tomatoes thrown at us while we hold Signs), I recognize that this may be just my story, and old one at that, and completely off base. Ready to walk my talk from our Lighten Up! course and not believe everything I think, I ordered three sets of Sprinkling cards in French, for us to take along. On the first day of class, we distributed the little stacks of cards. They said: Bisous (kisses), La Vie est Belle (life is beautiful) and Tout Ira Bien (all will be well). Equipped with our stashes, we soon headed out into the small town on Antibes and began leaving them in random places. I was a little shy at first, but warmed up to it as the card I left on the post office box was gone within minutes. Sitting down together at lunch, I hear one of our most vivacious co traveling friend explain the little cards to the owner of the restaurant, and giving her a few. Instinctively - and as I am once again running the old story - I make myself very still, hoping I wont be asked to join in on the conversation. No such luck. My friend points to me and tells the lady that I started the movement and that I can tell her more. And what do you know? it turns out the restaurant owner wants to know more. Oh boy. So here I am, putting my baby at the mercy of a classically critical French mind, explaining the hows and the whys. The lady listens for a good while and I can not read her reaction. Finally, she launches into a whole tirade of why this is brilliant, of how tired she is of seeing her compatriots' “tetes d’enterrement” (funeral faces) of late, and how needed this is. Wow... We talk a little bit more, and as she leaves, I catch a huge smile on my friend’s face, on the other end of the table. Fast forward an hour or so and our waiter deposits the bill in the middle of our table. I open it, ready to begin the daily ritual of reading who ate what and how much we each owe, and right there, on top of the bill, I find one of our little cards - in English! It reads: Everything will be Alright. Looking up at the waiter, I can tell that he is extremely pleased, with a super big smile. He Sprinkled us, and reminded us that our bill was going to be alright (turns out that he actually gave us the wrong bill, and when he brought the correct one, which was more expensive, he laughed as he told us that this one would be a little bit less alright). We were all giddy! After a day of Sprinkling quietly around the old town, bringing our Anacortes born work to the other side of the world, everything suddenly felt very “round” and for me, quite touching, as not only were we Sprinkling in France, but we had just gotten Sprinkled as well. Great "in the field" lesson about questioning our old stories, and the card is right on: La Vie est Belle. In bed, last Saturday night, I am feeling so much warmth and sweetness.
Downstairs, our two Airbnb rooms are full and this is a big part of what's making my own heart feel so rich: In "The Yes Room" is a father and daughter team. They arrived in the early evening, both looking deeply tired, the kind of really good tired. The dad, a man in his 60's, explained to me that he had traveled to our area to watch his daughter (in her late 20's, I am guessing) dive. She is a diver and he is her dad, so he traveled all the way here to be with her while she did what she loves to do. In "The Nest" is a lovely woman, who has traveled most of the day to get here. Tomorrow she will take a two hour boat that will lead her to her 11-year old daughter. Her kid has been at camp for two weeks, and has two more weeks to go, so her mom is bringing her a home-made roasted chicken and a gluten free berry pie. And a whole big helping of mama love. In the last couple of days, people have traveled to our home (someone on 4 different buses) to come give our furry girl some love, which she needed. Time, money, energy spent on Being There. Just BEING THERE. Making love a verb, not just a concept. As I closed my eyes to go to sleep, I took one big breath-full of the love resting under our roof. A few days ago, I decided that I would come back the U.S. shortly after the end of my upcoming Retreat to the South of France. I would not go to Paris, but instead return to my work, and to my older furry girl.
This morning, I decided to turn down Airbnb guests for this evening. Tonight is my son's last night here and I want privacy, I want the house to ourselves. Now, just a year before, the possibility of skipping even one day in Paris, would have been completely out of the question. I was starved for my childhood home, for its smells, sights, for all of it. I would have done just about anything to spend an hour walking the paved streets. A decade ago, letting go of a night of rental income is something which I would never have done. Every penny counted dearly and my comfort or desire for privacy was only a very small portion of any income making decision. I was grabby. Grabby for Paris, and grabby for pennies. There was a very good reason for both of these bouts of grabbiness. One of them was a bit of PTSD, and one of them was survival of my family. Nothing to sneeze at. The loveliness, this morning, comes in noticing that I am no longer grabby for either. Paris is my love and Paris is no longer part of an un-reacheable planet within my mind. I was in Paris a few months ago, and I will be again soon. It lives in my heart, and I know inside of me, that at any given time, I can hop on a plane and be there. This was not the case for a long, long time. And my work needs me, as does my furry girl. Money is important and I am full of respect for its magic dance. I partner with its ebbs and flows, yet I no longer need to grab at it, and tonight, privacy in our home is the priority. Grabbiness. Grabbiness because we are afraid. Afraid of not enough.... something. Time, money, love, health, friends, food. Grabbiness because something inside of us, at some point in time, agreed that the commodity was scarce and that without it, we could die - in one way or another (a broken heart is a small death, too). So we grabbed. And we compromised. And we settled. And we tolerated. This morning, I am celebrating the choice of saying "no," the freedom of not having to grab. It feels darn good. I invite you to look at the places where you no longer need to grab, where you can take a deep breath and remind yourself that it's okay, there is plenty. And I wish you a lovely day of freedom and plentifulness. XOXO |
SCARED OF THE SACRED
HAPPINESS SCHOOL:
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