vendredi

jeudi

this is what i have in mind...

 

The flaneur is an observer who wanders the streets of a great city on a mission to notice with childlike enjoyment the smallest events and the obscurest sights he encounters. Baudelaire, a resident nine-teenth-century flaneur, observed,

"For the flaneur it's an immense pleasure to take up residence in multiplicity, in whatever is seething, moving, evanescent and infinite. You're not at home but you feel at home everywhere; you see everyone, you're at the center of everything, yet you remain hidden from everybody."

This is one astute definition of the writer: an observer who ventures everywhere while remaining invisible...It is in Paris that the delicious, dreamy strolling of the flaneur can be perfected. Indeed, you may never become the poet of your dreams until you become a poet of flaneurie. It is the exercise regimen of the artist.

- Eric Maisel

* My bags are nearly packed and I'm off to Paris tomorrow!

absence and presence

The last few nights grief has awakened and carried me downstairs in the darkness of midnight. Anniversaries of loss are surrounding me and during these times the poignancy of grief is more pronounced. I used to panic thinking I'd be unable to find my way out of the pain of loss, but I've discovered that if I lean into it and give it its moments, it will pass. 

Of course, it will also return.

So I've come to call it sacred loss and do my best to treat it as such. For me this means recognizing its genesis is profound love I've been fortunate to experience.

It means lighting candles alone in the dark and allowing myself to feel vulnerability and sadness, while in the same breath feeling exceptional gratitude for the ones I love here beside me now.

It is recognizing the presence of lost loved ones even in their absence.

It is turning to nature for solace again and again and training my eyes and heart to find beauty wherever they can.

It's peeking out the window and looking for stars in my darkness.