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
Well it´s no wonder you´re frustrated trying to communicate in French what you do so brilliantly in English. I selfishly hope you will keep posting, however infrequently, because your writing is so thoughtful, insightful and elegant. If it´s any comfort, my Spanish suffers the same grammatical limitations and I´m still identified immediately as a foreigner, though my accent is supposed to be pretty good, even after 20 years.
But you have to do what feels right to you, despite our hopes and appreciation. Congratulations on your accomplishments under extremely difficult circumstances. You continue to inspire. Thank you.
I was just thinking about you earlier today.
They've all, those posting above, said what I would say about your writing and seeking and learning. I've gotten so much from your posts, there's so much of elemental you in them and a richness of spirit that enhances my life as I read. I would add only, do what you need to do to take care of you, whether it's blogging or writing or painting or whatever.
Although I do like David's idea of at least just one little blog post a year, or even more than one …
I think cutting free is a great idea. Not that I haven’t enjoyed your posts. But think of all the possibilities that open up if you are not posting here for us. There is so much to focus on in life and so little time devoted to looking inward just for the sake of it. Not to tell anyone else but just to feel and think and reflect. Think of all we did before there were blogs. Go back to diaries and poems and letters to friends and more rendez vous etc. I think you will feel liberated. I’ll miss you.
Dear Heather,
Some words, which I hope may help.
https://goo.gl/images/1uF3sw
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Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.
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Start where you are, use what you have and do what you can.
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The way forward shall always be foggy and questionable. You don’t need a foolproof plan. Making mistakes is part of the process. That’s where value is created.
~~~***~~~
So, these were some life lessons I learnt during my divorce, I hope they are universal enough to apply in other situations 😉
Thank you for sharing your story. It has truly helped me. (“Feeling your way forward”, yes, I’m doing that! Remembering old days and wondering that/whether they were real, yes, so did I).
And…….please do with the blog what is best for YOU.
Now a professor! You are a polymath, a real Renaissance woman.
Keeping a candle lit, with prayers you will continue to find your way. I hold your hand from afar.
I hope you will continue the blog. You have so many interesting and compassionate readers who care for you, even if from afar. It is great news about your teaching English at a university. If you look for happiness, you will find it, even in small things. Same for a quest for beauty. It seems trivial to say that, but it is true. I try to observe one thing each day solely for happiness, for gratitude, for beauty, etc. I myself have been concentrating on teaching myself Italian on Duo Lingo and love the beauty of suddenly understanding a phrase, love the beautiful sound, and of course despair at how quickly it is spoken.
Open your wings Heather and fly to the open world! You are an amazing woman and you gave us much joy with your words and soul-artistic photos.
Hi there Heather
I only discovered your blog this past year. You write with emotion/passion/awareness – I so enjoy reading it. Lost in Arles – direct contact with your past. Perhaps a new blog title.
Congrats on your new role/another role as teacher – this will open up to new experiences.
I'm just finishing up reading – They Left us EVERYTHING. Memoir about what parents leave behind.
Here is a though provoking quote from the father – You only have to turn your ship a few degrees to end up on a completely different shore.
Tho you may decide to blog infrequently it's good to know we can send you an email to say hello
Add me to the list of those who like hearing from you no matter how infrequently life dictates the communication. Just a practical FYI: Another friend just gave up her blog, saving some of the best posts and totally obliterating the rest so the 'creepy people' who troll the blog world don't get ahold of it and turn it into something you don't want associated with your name.
Take care Heather. Sending love always,Katrina ❤️