became a constant companion.
i wrote it on a piece of paper
and i wrote it on my heart
with each and every day.
la vie est belle... la vie est belle.
photograph taken in menerbes.
la vie est belle...
that’s exactly what it is !
i arrived back home from the provence late last tuesday evening. and as welcoming and wonderful and comforting as it is to always find your way back home, there was (and still is…) a hint of me that simply wanted to stay. just a little longer. or a whole lot longer. or maybe even a whole life time longer. and to be honest, i don’t even know where to begin with my stories and my tellings… the sharings of all that was and all that is.
and in some ways, some of these stories feel best simply shared with words in spoken conversation to a friend, or in the sweet smile of simply remembering, simply knowing and simply holding them close within.
it’s in moments like that, in moments of conversations or personal rememberings, that you keep it alive. that you keep it real. and it’s simply, ever so simply, these things and those moments that are a part of all what is and all what composes everything that is this wonderful you.
la vie est belle…
and there is such an energy and so many little wonders and goodness that feel as though they are twirling around me these days. with every day. and i want to spill it all. capture and recapture each moment. but i simply can’t. i just want to live it. each moment. as it happens. and awe and adore and breathe and be it all. i don’t even know if there are enough words. for the emotions. the sensations. and when the quiet moments find themselves, i simply take them for all the beauty that the quiet is. to reflect. to enjoy. and to simply let it be.
(and as i write this… another little wonder happened. these are the moments. these are the days. and in the midsts of it all. i simply find myself grateful. thankful and grateful. and simply happy…)
what are the things i want to share about those days of the provence? i’d simply rather say, “come on over for a cup of coffee… or a glass of wine.” and i’d simply rather tell you the stories as they open themselves. but also, because i want to hear your stories… i’d want to hear of the magic and the wonder and the little moments of your days.
i’d tell you stories about that sensation of knowing you’re starting a journey. and not just a journey to a destination, but the journey within a journey. listening to the inner voice. to that intuition. and finding the way. and not just on a map, but within yourself. (although sometimes I wonder why we can’t always have a naviagtion and gps that leads us thru life and not just along the road?). one of the questions that fell upon me in a gentle, familiar and reminding way was “worauf wartest du eigentlich… worauf wartest du?”. (what are you waiting for… what is it that you’re waiting for)”.
i’d tell you stories about the most beautiful countrysides and landscapes, colours as light and shadow play a game amongst themselves. of olive trees and cypress trees. and vineyards. beautiful, lush vineyards that teased you with new colours and the sweetest taste on your lips and tongue every day. I’d tell you of the old man that passed me on his walks every day, starting just with his nod of his head, then slowly to a “bonjour madame…” and then to a smile on his face with his “bonjour”… and finally seeing how I was becoming a part of his own every day and gradually graduating to a “bonjour madame… ca va?”.
i’d tell you stories of living in a beautiful house that held the passion and respect for days gone by and probably held a thousand and one stories of its own. but also of a beautiful house that wouldn’t be what it was today if it wasn’t for the beautiful souls that brought it back to life. la madone. la madone.
i’d tell you stories of having a car break down in the midsts of the luberon mountains and a quiet country road somewhere between bonnieux and menerbes. people stopping to help and then simply waiting,.counting stones. counting steps. waiting. laughing (as there really wasn’t much else left to do at that given point and moment…). having the woman that lived down the road bring me a cup of coffee. remembering to turn my face into the sun and just smile about it all. trying in my broken french to say thank you again, but help really is on its way (and then having occassional moments of wondering, if it really is… after about the third hour). and about just having the time to think of so many things. and promise to start going back to yoga once i am back home again too. but then, help did finally come with the tow truck. and thankfully, the tow truck wasn’t needed after all. the mechanic was determined it really was just the battery, after all… i’m a woman and i was on the phone and surely i let the car idle with music while i was talking? non? i refuse to answer that question. however, the first two attempts with the battery didn’t seem to be the answer. but then with a thump and a twack and literally a kick in the ass, it was the battery after all.
to be continued…
(i need to be up early tomorrow morning… on my way to munich.
and another story I have to share.)