August 27: Wrote for 4 hours this am! WOW! Stas is right, this little studio is a quiet Mecca!
By mid afternoon I was back on the streets of Paris. It’s funny how we find our haunts quickly in a big city. A couple places have great healthy take away and I can trust Shakespeare and Company to have a daily vegetable-fruit juice press that is scrumptious.
Today is the first day that the clouds are gathering. I am perched at a picnic type table under an umbrella, outside of Shakespeare and company, which is across the street from the Seine and Notre Dame.
Next to me sit two women, perhaps in their 70’s. They are a stream of words. Non- stop from deaths, to travels, to toe problems, and food choices, restaurants and wine, onto art and bicycling, husbands and lovers. I had a hard time even hearing when they came up for air.
Oddly their conversation was exhausting me, and I wasn’t even partaking!
It dawned on me, just how enamored I am with my choice of silence. It’s been pure joy not to talk! Being with me has been a delight. And to counter the banter of these women what a juxtaposition.
Every so sweetly, cascading gently over their heads and into mine was a light and melodic French conversation; two young women framed in a little window of Shakespeare’s cafe! Like a breeze their words erased the frenetic conversation that lay heavy beside me and lulled me back into my silence. French really is so soothing to hear.
Before leaving Rochester so many women of all ages expressed awe at my courage or stupidity of this adventure – depending on their slant. My willingness to embrace the unknown, alone, was staggering to them.
What they didn’t know: my desire to travel once again as I had in my 20’s had grown to a necessity for my soul, as air is for my body. To be alone in the world, to become the observer not the doer. I thought on the day of travel I would wake up with fear gripping every bone in my body, and that I would regret every planning moment of these last 6 months.
I rose early that Thursday morning drenched in sheer excitement and calm, knowing that whatever happened I would be held up, supported by the energy of life and my own two feet. Eagles push their eaglets out of the next to fly or to die. I’ve had too many experiences over the last 58 years to know that as long as my plane had me, I would fly!
Tonight I sit on the edge of Pont Neuf, it feels like the edge of Paris, where the Seine River splits. Before me, the setting sun works hard to push through the clouds. It wants to be seen, make its own splash in dusk’s scene. The breeze has picked up – meeting the gathering clouds, and tossing the first dry leaves of late summer. Fall is definitely in the air tonight, it has ridden in on the west wind. I am protected under this huge weeping willow, hanging over the point, The branches encase me and float like a grass skirt moving to the beat of some Hawaiian music. The ground is dappled everywhere with young people. Languages, music, food and drink of all kind, smoke, weed and laughter loop around us.
– It’s good to be alive!
Goodnight Paris!
Welcome to Wonder 