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.
"Thank you for sharing your wonderful, heartbreaking, exhilarating experience with the world."
"Thank You Laura for sharing, for teaching and spreading loving kindness. "
"I think I love you. You bring good things into my life, or remind me of things I love and know, but have let go of."
"Laura, you are so good for me. I laugh and sniffle and get the shivers when I read your essays. Thanks so much for letting all your wonderfulness run around loose."
"Heart-achingly beautiful, your words and how you reveal your truth."
"Thank you so much for who you are and what you share with the world. Your mere being transforms lives as it has transformed mine. This particular post did to my heart what water does to parched soil."
"Thank you for your gentle words that are packed full of wisdom. I have been struggling with the concept of what words can do to another person when they are negative words. Your words are the flip side of our word power, and shows how delightfully powerful kind words can be. Thank you."
"Once again Laura Lavigne takes you on an adventure of the heart. She has a way of pulling you right in the car with her. Asking you to consider changing a fear to taking thoughtful action. Whether she's teaching a class, leading a retreat or heading for a happiness sprinkling, Laura will invite you to shed old ways of thinking and be completely authentic. Join in!"
"Essentially pure love.
I enjoy how Laura is kind to herself and to us other humans who dance in and out of each other's lives. "
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You can count on Laura for warmth, humor, charm, and a lift to your day and your heart. She inspires me to be braver than I am, and to love the world out loud. She's a gem, and a generous one at that!"
I write because this is the way I am able to taste life more deeply.