It is hard coming back to this space. And I never thought that would be the case. But sometimes it is important for us to give each other the benefit of the doubt.
When I open up Lost in Arles, I am in direct contact with my past. And while the vast majority of what I have tried to express over the past eight years is in the realm of beauty or happiness, I have also been through so much as of late. I understand; yes, as we all have, each in our own way, I am so aware of it – and yet what I choose to share is a specific prism of my experience. There is the question of respect for others, which is seriously a tightrope tendu, and what is appropriate for me as well.
There have been times when I did not know where I would sleep for the next two weeks, two days. In France, they call the homeless “sans domiciles fixes” – without a home address – and while I was never on the street, that was certainly my case. A wanderer can sound romantic, save when it is enforced and not chosen. Out I went, looking for answers, held quite safe, even at the last moment, truly and mercifully by my anges gardiennes, especially the human ones who took me in, here on the ground.
We don’t know the story. Even when we think that we do.
It can be that way communicating with the people that I meet. You could think, perhaps, that after 17 years of living overseas, my French would be just about perfect, but you would be wrong. The locals are often surprised when they learn that I have been here for so long for my accent is still so strong and my written French still so poor. It puts me in a certain category. I never had the money to take the appropriate classes at La Sorbonne in Paris nor the time, either, as I was off and traveling the world….memories which seem like whispers, like strips of silk wind born to me now. Did that really happen? Did I really travel to Africa with the insouciance as if I were headed to the supermarket? Even all that is the beginning of this blog…did that really happen? Did I have Ben and my ex and I were so in love? I think so.
But how could I have known?
And yet, the proof, knowing is not everything.
Our brain keeps thumping, thumping along, churning out thoughts and doing its job, building structures or containers within which we are to organize our life.
It’s funny because I have met some truly interesting men along the way over the past year who were willing to meet me on a soul level…there have been many moments that were fiercely sensual and others that were equally isolating. At times, all we can do is some sort of gestural, whimsical pantomime of approximations when a conversation comes to an impasse because we can’t exchange verbally in our home language in the manner we both deserve. Someone is always dumbing down and that can be…disappointing. My friend Gérard kind of assumes that I am somewhat of an artist (he is an established one) but he is guessing on a hunch, for these words here hold absolutely no meaning for him, nor do my published articles. It is endlessly frustrating as I have always had une idée that the breadcrumbs left on the blog in a text or photos are something deeply telling when it was, at best, capable of moving you. Or me. Or us both.
Something beyond words.
And yet they can’t grasp what, hopefully, you have previously. They can’t know. This is often what it is like, finally, to be an expat. Certainly one who is not held within the comforting embrace of a couple. So much of me falls to the floor non-received, les pages imprimées mais pas vu, so that everyday I grieve a little. Just a little. There is a peace to be made with not only all of the shared understanding that is lost but also all of the subtleties of who we are, here.
The eyes can only communicate so much.
Music is better.
And yet there is a new door opening. One where I am now teaching English and at university level at that (this on top of my other full-time job). Admittedly, I have no idea of what I am doing. Every class feels as though I am jumping out of a plane, still doing the test tug on my parachute as I fall.
What can I still communicate?
They are young, you know. Most of them are looking towards me for some bite of the positive apple, if not only education. But can I still do it? Pass the words, light them up and watch the fireworks with no uncertain joy?
Again, as always, I feel my way as I go. Lately, I tell myself before getting out of bed, “Just do the best you can.”
And here? Some part of me doesn’t want to give this up. A blog, outdated in idea, yes, but I have you, our community, still. And I am fiercely proud of who you are…not to mention deeply moved by the emails that I have been receiving.
“Are you ok?” they ask. Well, yes, I suppose that I am but my life these days is little beyond work. Dating is challenging not only for the above-mentioned reason but also as a matter of sheer logistics. My one dear friend, Tina, has moved to live by the sea. Even my ex told me over a lunch, “You knew it would take time to rebuild a life in France.” He was right.
But there is perspective always to be gleaned. My Sister, so filled with pride after my first classes asked, “Could you possibly have imagined if someone had told you a year ago that you would be teaching at a university? You wouldn’t have believed them.” And she too is right; I was on the floor then. Maybe I am up on one knee now. Looking upwards, even if I still do not feel secure enough to dream.
It doesn’t necessarily change much, these configurations of letters and images that might be printed on a page…certainly in the midst of such daily tragedies on a global scale. But horizons are exactly that, open-ended…so, where do I go from here?
I am not sure if I am going to keep this blog going, which is very hard indeed to admit. Heart-breaking, actually. Something you will understand if you know me well. I never would have thought. Never, ever, ever would have thought.
There is still that little part of me that is calling like the sea, song to the siren, to move beyond this moment, this doubt, in order to discover what lies ahead. That which is cast out upon the water will roll back again with the tide, eventually.
I have waded through endless amounts of fear.
If I find you in the waves, so be it.
Let the past wash upon the rocks, for hopefully, it will not break us, or me.
I have used this song before on the blog, but it applies and differently now to how I loved it before.
“I am actually good…”
…and still here.
With gratitude no matter where this goes,
You have held me with Love,
I know that to be true,
Be well,
Heather
I'm with David Terry, no matter how infrequent it's always wonderful to hear from an old friend, like an unexpected letter in the mail, or a bottle bobbing on the waves. Take care, xox
When tears came to his eyes he let them fall.
Hi Heather, I really enjoy your blog; please don't stop. You have a unique way of communicating the whole range of emotion of your quest: the hopefulness, the joy, the grief, the disappointment, the exploration, the fatigue, the energy, the ascension. I just came back from five weeks in France–I studied the language (painfully, but gratefully) and felt very at home in the country. But I think your description of how a language can be a barrier to more intimate thoughts and emotions is something many people don't understand about really living and thriving in another country. It's something new that you shared, and that's what creativity is all about. Godspeed to you, and great success and love in your future!
Oh my God…I have been a subscriber for a pretty long time but I haven't read your blogposts in awhile and now I feel so bad. I'd get the email that a new post was up – but I didn't click to read it. Part of me was jealous that you were living in France and doing things that I would have loved to be doing! I guess I didn't click because I didn't want to feel badly about my own lack of doing something completely different with my life as you have done. I WAS SO WRONG – I should have been reading all along.
I have left my own blog to wither in the ether – and I know I probably have left some people wondering what the heck happened to me. I started another blog with content taht's more germane to what I have been going to earn a living. Not many people follow that. But my older blog – I had some really passionate followers. And I guess I am saying that to you because I feel that you should not abandon your blog – just write as you have with this blogpost. Passion…honesty…vulnerability and the journey to overcome and to succeed – these things will always be Top Content. People need to hear how to start over and "to become" – whereas we really should be happy with beginning the task of "becoming"
Linda
Oh, it's so good to hear from you again, Heather. I'm not quite sure where to begin (like 99.9% of your readers, I think "It would be so EASY, if only I could just fly Heather here for a weekend……we could just talk for hours….".
That said?……I began reading the first sentence of this posting, thinking "Oh, Lord…….she's announcing the end of the blog". I'm glad to learn that you're not, and I'm writing to emphasize that you needn't do so. Your writings/work/this blog have been one of the few gratifying constants in my own life since 2012 (which, as you know, has been marked by some quite painful disruptions and losses).
I hope you won't "close down" your blog (do the authorities charge you rent for the cyberspace?). I'd be perfectly happy to know that, even if just once per year, I'll hear a "ping" on my computer, take a look, and see that Heather's come back again for a quick visit……like the cedar waxwings that come here about one day per year. Wonderful…..and then gone….until next year.
So, don't close down……go play Christopher Robin for a while, do your next bit of exploring and growing-up, and just promise to come back and visit us occasionally?
As fondly as ever,
David Terry
Quail Roost Farm
Rougemont, NC
USA
P.s. my portrait of you will be shipped to your family this week. Thanks for the address……
Yes Heather "you are good & you are still here"
Yes, Heather, I agree with Bill. You have given us, your readers, so, so much. I'm sure you realize this, but with the teaching job (congratulations!), you have come full circle — you are back on stage, performing for an audience. How I envy them. This post left me with a big lump in my throat. If you don't continue to post, I will miss your words and photos. But I also understand the need to move on. Sometimes starting a new chapter demands that we leave the past behind. Stay well, my courageous friend. I do hope that we will meet in person one day.
Rocket, the innate ability to express these deepest feelings is a wondrous gift .. and combined with your courage to bare and share, it becomes an emotive feast we readers are hardly worthy of. Thank You.
I am so glad to hear from you and so impressed that you are teaching at a university. Félicitations!
As for language, I got so frustrated communicating in French to my husband. There was always something–I used masculine when the noun was feminine, or I got it right but failed to make all the adjectives agree, or I used conditional instead of imparfait. And of course my accent. People understand me but I am no Jody Foster (who dubs herself into French!). OTOH, my grandma, who arrived in the U.S. at age 8, still had a hint of an accent when she died at age 99 1/2. Some people are good at accents and others aren't. Anyway, with my husband, I gave up. I refused to be in the middle of making an argument, only for him to tell me something is grande and not grand. So I speak in English, all the time. He feels the same way, preferring to speak in his mother tongue, so he speaks in French, all the time. I understand perfectly well what he says even if I can't quite get the grammar or, to a lesser extent, the vocabulary, to respond. And he understands me. Every time we speak, it's in English/French combined. It's also my way of resisting being subsumed by France, as much as I love it here.
It is very impressive that you found a job–TWO jobs!–and that you are forging a new life. It took me a good two years to get myself together after my first marriage ended, and that was without the challenges of finding work and moving, and it was in my native language. You are stronger and braver and more successful than you realize.
Love, hugs & prayers ~ FlowerLady