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.
I take each word from you as a true gift, Joan. I am so incredibly grateful that you are still here with us, such a force to be reckoned with. I haven't forgotten what you said about how your life evolved at 50 and then again in your 60s and then again…xo
I am not so certain about the trip, Judith. Or anything just at present. My questions really are that and not rhetorical. But thank you for the reassurance…so much. That leap will happen sooner or later and will be frightening when it does occur. I am grateful beyond belief for my friends here amidst whom you are so dear. We have been through so much and will be through more as your new adventures unfurl…
I am, however, very sorry to learn that you are losing someone. As someone who moved every four years or so growing up, I know how that happens and yet it doesn't hurt any less at our age. It has happened for me during this time too.
I know also that you really look at the photographs (thank you). Those and the rest in Arles were taken on a day about a week before I left and I cried while taking most of them because I did not know if they were goodbye. And I took them for me as a reminder of all of my favorite things just in case. I know that you did just the same before you launched into your new journey. With much Love to you…scratchies to Karina. On we go. To where?
David, the question of "where is home" or even "what is home" is a something that another friend asked earlier in the day and was a big part of this post beyond my completely bastardizing Isak Dineson (hopefully her spirit will forgive me as I both love Africa and appreciate Marcus Aurelius). Thank you for asking the good questions and for being a through line when they are so needed. I wish that you did not understand but you do. How grateful I am for you that you do have that home that you love and your art to create in front of you. Nothing but promises and promess. I am also grateful for your compliment as any from you as far as writing is concerned is worth its weight in…something more meaningful than gold ('though I would not turn it away just at present). Yes, the loneliness is very hard. I miss being held by a man in love.
I read this out loud to my Mom and Sister tonight. Thank you so much, Marsha.
I am not a frequent commenter, but am a faithful reader. This post is extraordinary, Heather. It caught my heart. Your writing and your photographs are in perfect harmony here. Thank you for this and thank you for the "health" post recently… just what I needed. Thanks, too, for the mention of Ben and Kipling – they're missed. By all, I'm sure.
This is a lovely post…very poignant.
I am reading Lizettes List and am in the very early stages of planning a month holiday in Provence with some women friends…we are thinking " Enchanted April"
I hope you do not think me rude…
if I may be so bold do you know of any homes that might be available to rent?
Hope your trip is wonderful in every sense of the word.
A most wonderful piece of writing and healthy, wise reflections.
I want to reply more fully when I have more time. But wanted to reply with these words of praise now.
joan
Hello Heather, This is an especially powerful post. I have thought of you often and been inspired by your courage as I go through my own big changes. Mine are planned and definitely more joyful, but changes nonetheless. And there has been some sadness in my move as it has become apparent that one friendship will not survive the distance.
But, like you, I know that new and exciting challenges are around the corner. They surely are for you, my friend.
I took a lot of extra time to scroll through the striking details of your photographs and the melancholy came through. But as your reader, it felt to me like a real letting go on your part and a readiness to move on, even as your hand lingers on that stone arch.
I know you have a trip planned for the coming month, which makes this last day of September feel as though you are about to leap into an abyss. There are many hands to catch you. You are so loved.
Yes, Heather…..so I see that you did read that quotation from Isak Dineson's (who was scarcely an unsubtle or un-self-scrutinizing woman) "Out of Africa"……beginning with "If I have a song of Africa, does Africa have a song of me?……"
The answer to the question would, of course, be "yes" (or, maybe, "no")……but the manifestations wouldn't at all be what you might imagine or know to wish for.
Dineson (who knew her Marcus Aurelius quite thoroughly) was simply being quite frank and honest in articulating a very basic human longing……to be/have the past AND the present.
This is a lovely post, by the way….and your writing grows better and mo' better.
I spent most of today (and, as you know, we've both been through, basically, the same encounter with betrayal and confusion)going around this large, old place (which today was filled with helpful-men repairing doors and floors and felling at least one 200 year old pecan that was going to come down anyway)….and it occurred to me how utterly lucky I am (as ever)that the trust (comprising friends and concerned family) bought this place out from under Herve.
I and my dogs get to live here for the rest of my/their lives….but I'm just the custodian. I prefer that, actually. It's a lovely, peaceful arrangement (if, I'll admit, after twelve years of marriage, a sometimes plain-out LONELY situation, despite a horde of constantly visiting friends, family, and neighbors….but, still, they all leave by or before 10pm).
And I did get your email, and I will have you down here for a visit. It's particularly lovely here in the winter, given that every room has its own fireplace (gas-powered, thank you….I have no wish to mess with wood and ash-hauling).
Your fan,
David Terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
Heather darling, no one knows what's coming next for certain. Those of us who are fortunate enough to have a relationship with spouse/children/family that will remain steadfast no matter what are blessed. The rest of us ponder what you've said daily. But I think, for me, I have to create my own happiness. It always comes with dogs. There will be people throughout our lifetime journey who come and go, this is normal. Many of us have many romantic, serious relationships, not just one. Find your own way. Don't wait for someone else's validation. And, for most of us following our head is a lot smarter than following our hearts, although I know ALL of us want to follow our hearts. It takes time to mature, to be certain, to know. I'm sending love to you as I always have….