When I think of Provence, does Provence think of me?
A friend asked a version of that curling question a while back in the comments. I have needed to pose it, inwardly, for necessities sake over and over these past few weeks. And while I am humble enough to know what the only possible answer lying embedded within 2500 years of history could be – a booming God-like “Non” – there are held-tight images glowing strong, still.
I am in Arles and it is the after dinner dog walk. A simple, everyday affair. Ben, Kipling and I are at the Arena but my mind is elsewhere. Unthinkingly, I reach out my hand to the grooves in the columns put into deep relief by the sun, another day done. My eyes flick toward Ben, off-leash and rounding the bend up ahead. Kipling gives a slight tug and continuing on, padding feet quietly with my arm extended, I run my hands across the stone from arch to arch and in so doing touch time without a care.
This is a memory that I have replayed a hundred times during the past eight months. I don’t even know if the moment ever actually existed. It doesn’t matter finally.
As I turn in mind’s eye towards those distant crossroads yet again, I try, repeatedly, to explain what hold Provence has on me and this is as close as I can come. I have often leaned on the word “Beauty” – even as an all encompassing filler for when the heart is searching; this blog was named “Lost in Arles” for a reason as I have often said. But there is a deeper sense. “History” nor “Culture” do justice either but rather a nameless sensibility that somehow gathers a yawning insouciant freedom wrestling with the stark shadows of fortified walls (or closed minds), searing heat pushing against a winter Mistral and the possibilities that the Rhône rolls in, brightly reflected with a Van Gogh lilt.
I can’t ever go back to the life that I had as it doesn’t exist anymore, I know that now. I accept.
But what new one awaits for me? And where? Our persona sands off with times passage just like the patina in the stone that I am thinking of today. At least mine does. Cats with nine lives and all that. Yet, there is so much that stands. I tend to forget that part. Do I listen to my heart or my head? Will the words somehow meet in the middle at my throat, allowing me to find the words to speak?
Fingers reach to touch, to touch…the air and are left grasping. There is a known unknown waiting and it will be just for me. If Provence ever does think of me, at least it just might admire the willingness, the asking.
Admittedly, I am especially emotional today. These words were like fishes wriggling through my fingers. There is a very rare Black New Moon tonight and it is a time of planting seeds for the coming six months. And if I don’t know what those seeds are? If I have no idea? I am often scared of the blank page awaiting me but tonight I will try to place my trust in the hole where the moon should be.
A beautiful post, Heather, with beautiful images. I am sure there are more than a few people in Arles who wonder where the nice American lady with the dogs went. But as for the stones? They don't care in Arles or anywhere. Missing Provence–however painful it is–is good. It is proof that there were good times, that you learned and grew and appreciated it. Can you imagine not missing it? It would mean that it was awful, without any redeeming quality. Now you are learning, growing and appreciating in a different way. I think that years from now you will look back at this time when you are spreading your wings and preparing to fly again and you will think of it fondly.
I sometimes miss NYC so badly, but I know deep down that while it was great in my 30s, it no longer would suit my lifestyle (I don't go out dancing all night anymore) nor, above all, my budget. I can go back for visits, see some old haunts that have managed to survive, and think wistfully about the place. But it isn't for me anymore.
New chapters are exciting.
Dear Heather ~ This post was very touching for me. I lost my dear husband after 43 years of marriage 46 months ago, when we went to his heavenly home. Life changed drastically, just as yours has. I am a different person. It is a daily growing process. God has been and is my strength. I try to see the beauty and good in each and every day. Try to learn something new regularly and enjoy life.
Your photographs and words touch hearts. Thank you. You are a strong, beautiful woman and you inspire me.
Love, hugs & prayers ~ FlowerLady
You love Arles and Provence. That will endure, even though you cannot return to your old life. It's hard to start again, but all your readers are here, willing you on. I wish you joy.
I reread your post and understood that you are not in Arles. I hope you are going and it is not a definitive "no".
Such a strong and open hearted post Heather! I felt anguish about your return to Provence but I think that this period back home made you stronger. These last years I learnt that love is stronger than happiness. I wish you to find both. Kisses
This is exquisitely beautiful, Heather. Thank you.
Beautiful post Heather. You really sound stronger….that wonderful brave part of us that sometimes can….fake it till we make it…..It is very necessary to put that one foot in front of the other to keep going.
You have a huge cheering section.
Bisou
Ali
"Life is a balance
between holding on and letting go."
–Rumi
I thought of this quote in reading your post, Heather. I believe that one day your head and your heart will work together and take you back to your beloved Provence. It won't be the one you left, but a bright new one filled with love and opportunities for you. Consider this a 'time out' period in your life and then move forward with confidence and self-assurance that your future is bright and of your own making! xxxx
By all, Joyce. Did you click on the link where Ben's name is mentioned? There is a good one for Kipling too but I found that particular one for Ben and it both made me laugh, hard and tear up too. I am really appreciative of your kindness, thank you.
Well, it isn't set yet but thank you very much. April is a tricky time. I will just say that. Anytime before Easter can bring strange weather! But, but…the spring blossoms can be beautiful too. I have one idea for a house but otherwise feel free to email my friend Julie Mautner who is the best pro for these things in the region. http://theprovencepost.blogspot.com/p/let-me-plan-your-trip.html
A month long holiday!!! For once, someone is taking the time to do it right. So excited for you, E. bisous