PREPARING FOR PARIS!

The Lovely Luxembourg Gardens - May 2007

This is our fourth visit to our beloved Paris and I am more excited that I have ever been before.  You know why?  Because we’ve already seen most of the sights and museums and now we can focus on what is most delightful to me; all the neighborhoods and their cafes and hidden parks and squares.  This time we are going to actually participate and immerse ourselves in the experience through creating something. Rob is going to draw and I’m going to write.

Little Pink, (my beloved notebook computer), gets to go this time.  We are committing ourselves to creating in the mornings when we are fresh. I see us side by side, settling in with our croissants and café crèmes, in the Place de Vosges (or in a place like it) with Rob’s sketch pad and my writing tablet. 

Square Georges Cain in the Marais - May, 2007

The planning for this trip has been very different than for prior visits.  I have put together a loose structure for our days, that focuses on three themes: (1) Parks and squares, (2) Patisseries (how I love my baked goods!) and (3) A few interesting neighborhoods we haven’t seen yet. 

Museé Carnavalet - May, 2007

I have researched the parks and squares close to the neighborhoods (arrondissements) where we are staying; six days in the Marais and six days in the 6^th. (St-Germain des Prés).  What if I could actually visit a different little park every day and write about my experience in it? What if I had enough for a slim, packable little book?!?  [I could call it Respites in Paris, Hidden jewels in the World’s Most Beautiful City, or maybe A Contemplative’s Paris, Resting in a Perfect Park.]  (Which one do you like?) 

Foxglove, my very favorite flower . . . 

Following our creating time we’re free to explore the patisseries I read about in Paris My Sweet.  This is a delightful book, with each chapter devoted to a different kind of Parisian sweet and the best place to find it; madeleines, macarons, cupcakes (the new rage), hot chocolate, (be still my heart), croissants, (of course), Nutella street crepes, and chocolate, chocolate, chocolate  (I’ll go anywhere for chocolate).  Won’t this be a great way to discover local type neighborhoods?  Plus, it gives us a bit of a purpose in our roaming, (Rob likes a destination). 

Savoring a croissant amande au chocolate Place de la Contrescarpe - May, 2010

 

 New neighborhoods?  I want to check out Canal St. Martin, an edgier side of Paris; I’m intrigued by rue Montorgueil, a bustling area that is supposedly traffic free; and I want to see Faubourg Saint-Antoine, near the Bastille, with lots of courtyards, (I love peeking in courtyards!) and furniture makers.  Rue des Martyrs is another interesting area . . . we didn’t get to stay there long enough last time.

Spotted in a window - Rue de Martyrs - Sept. 2010

Then, it’s home for an afternoon nap, so we are fresh for dinner and the sparkling nightlife of Paris.  This time I actually want to go on one of those Le Bateaux Mouche cruises. I know it’s touristy, but I think it would be really romantic to glide on the Seine with my sweetie amidst the lights of Paris on a warm summer evening. 

I also have an idea for a night walk by the river, basking in a floodlit view of Notre Dame, (I read that somewhere) and kissing on a few bridges (maybe lots of bridges!) and ending up at Ille St. Louis for an ice cream.  There’s a rock club I want to go to on rue de Lappe (I’ve heard it’s really wild!) and I want to dance at Caveau de la Huchette, a jazz cellar in Latin Quarter, and check out Place St-Andre des Art at night.  Yes this girl will definitely need her afternoon nap!

 Promenade Plantée - May 2007

There are some places I’ll do again like the Promenade Plantée, a 19^th century railway viaduct, converted into a glorious walkway high above the city.  It is chock full of flowers, lavender and cherry trees and it has all these pretty arches with climbing roses and as you amble (or in my case, walk energetically), you can see the tops of the magnificent buildings of Paris with their beautiful carvings and the wrought-iron balconies.  It seems like you can walk forever and in fact, I hear that it leads to the Bois de Vincennes floral arboretum we’ve never seen before.  Cool!

Spotted in a Window in the Latin Quarter - May, 2006

I’d love to see the Fontainebleau Forest, 40 miles or so outside of the city, where Rousseau and his colleagues roamed at night and had wild, arty parties.  I’d also like to see Giverny. . I do so love gardens and flowers.  I’m thinking about checking out these Turkish baths in the Latin Quarter; I hear they are amazing and there’s a cool café; I could bring my bathing suit and sarong . . .we’ll see . . . we’ll see.

I know I can’t pack all of these books (give poor Rob a break!), but here are the books where I’ve gotten most of my ideas:

• Rick Steves’ Paris – my Bible – dog eared with use on every visit
• Lonely Planet Paris Encounter – thank you, Susan for loaning
• Power Hiking – Carolyn Hansen & Cathleen Peck - is this perfect for me or what?
• Forever Paris – guidebook with lots of pictures
• City Walks:  Paris – Christina Henry de Tessan - cool cards to tuck in my pack
• Paris to the Moon – Adam Gopnik lived in Paris with his family for five years – great stories.
• Paris My Sweet – thank you, Amy Thomas and Janice! 
• The Covered Passages of Paris – how cool would it be to explore a bunch of them one afternoon?!?
• A Writer’s Paris – Eric Maisel – I may bring this one because it puts me in the mood to write.  He has such a similar sensibility to me – definitely a kindred spirit.
• My journal – for writing outside – you can’t see the cursor in the sunlight.

My hopes for this visit? To slow down and savor it.  It is so tempting to gobble experiences in Paris.  I want to be fully in my senses, letting desire go and being fully in the moment.  Walking, reflecting, writing, reading, eating, sipping, kissing, surrounded by beauty everywhere - - oh yes!  That is vacation for this girl!

Me in Square Viviani - Sept. 2010

VERTIGO – Epilogue

It’s still there.  But it’s down to a trace.  Thanks be to God!

I’ve hit another one of the blessed plateaus.  It’s so interesting how it heals; kind of like how it came on – suddenly.  The healing is not a gradual thing.  I wake up and I just feel better.  Like a lot better.  It’s happened about four times now.  I stay at the same level for a couple of months, then one morning, I wake up and it’s just better.  I’ve been on this journey now for almost on a year and this last plateau is glorious; wide and grassy and expansive.  I stand tall on a place of even-ness, where the dizziness is only a faint noise way in the background . . .

I’ve been to a lot of doctors.  I’ve done a lot of exercises.  I’ve read everything out there on vestibular disorders.  In my search for answers, I began to realize that none of the doctors, specialists, physical therapists, or even the good Dr. Kuluva, knows exactly what this is, what caused it, when, or even if it will go away.  But Dr. Kuluva is a neurologist.  He understands a lot about the brain and respects all its complexity and its mystery. 

He is helping me realize that even if the dizziness doesn’t go away entirely, I can suppress it, take the focus off of it, treat it as merely a nuisance.  He encourages me to focus on how well I am managing it.  “Look at all the things you can do!”, he exclaims.  “You go to rock and roll concerts and restaurants.  Your husband throws you a surprise birthday party with all of your friends.  You’re a young 55.  You have a good life.  You have a full life.  Even if it doesn’t go completely away, you are living with it and you are living well.  You’re in the game.”  Focus on that.

In the end, I’m realizing that what is really healing me is time, patience, acceptance and surrender.  Stephen Levine says that “the resistance to pain can actually be more painful than the pain itself.” 

So I keep asking for quietness of heart and poise of spirit.  I want a quieter mind, too.  I ask her to lift me out of the small, cramped place of detail.  Set me free in the vast spaciousness of life. 

And she’s hearing me.

I’m finding a different, more authentic way of being in my life. I’m discovering parts of myself I didn’t know I had.  I make meaning out of the hard stuff and I emerge stronger and wiser.  I’m learning how to stand my ground and be centered in myself.  I’m finding my balance.  Something deep is healing in me. 

I‘m shedding a lot of roles.  The vertigo released me; it literally took me out of a lot of obligation. The roles that weren’t authentic had to go.  They were too draining, even exhausting.  My motto these days, “It’s better to not grumble and not do it – than it is to grumble and do it.”

I am moving slower and more languorously through the world.  I am gloriously unhurried.  I am content with a simple day.  I love coming home to Rob in the evening.  I love eating dinner and watching our shows and cuddling with Pablo and Toby.  I'm getting myself back. But it's a deeper, more engaged, less restless self. 

I've slowed down inside, too.  I enjoy things even more.  I’m not as plagued by that anxious, relentless voice, “You’re missing out.  You should be doing something more interesting.”  I don’t have to push myself to do lots of cool things. I can just heal.  I can take a rest from desire.  I can just be.

I’m finding my internal rhythm. I shake the tambourine steadily amidst the craziness around me - -  shake, shake, bam . . . shake, shake, bam . . . shake, shake BAM.  I am consistent, steady, living through this holy season of healing.  Rob and I have committed to a whole year of healing; extending the Jubilee year; living in this restful time, deeply appreciating, deeply savoring, doing what I love to do and lots of it. 

Live restfully in me.  Slow down.  Move slower and sweeter through the world.  Be softer, receive my tenderness.  Give me a chance to show you my world.  I will show myself more and more if you will let me.  I am leading you to a deeper place.  – My Angel Girl

I’m thrilled to share with you that thanks to a healthy tax refund, Rob and I are going to Paris and Yosemite this summer; two of the most extraordinarily beautiful places on earth. And we’re going in July, almost one year to the date of the first vertigo attack. Isn’t that miraculous? Isn’t that awesome? Thanks be to God! 

I lost my balance.  I’m still recovering it.  But I am recovering.  These days I’m a mountaineer who has taken off her heavy backpack.  I am sorting through it and discarding all the stuff I no longer need to carry.  I’m in the process of re-packing, creating a lighter, more essential load.  I only want to carry what I really need; what is authentic to me.

Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. – Jesus 

VERTIGO – Part 9 – The Mountaineers (cont)

The carabiner Annie gave to me. How cool is that?

You are not going to believe this!  I met her. Two weeks after the last blog post, I met Annie Whitehouse, the woman who climbed Annapurna!  In fact, I’m on a plane right this moment, high above the Rockies, flying back from Denver writing about it.  I have my very own carabiner, which I will eventually use for my keys. For now, it sits on our kitchen counter, inspiring us both.

I’ve spent the last four days visiting Karen and William, and their stunningly beautiful daughter, Allison. (Beautiful soul, too -  love the way she glides through the world.) Karen and I played hard the way we used to play during the summers in college.  I felt so free and lighthearted, like a little girl in the summer, knowing I didn’t have to go back to school for three whole months. We rode bikes by the river all day, took diet coke and fried pickle breaks and talked and talked about our lives and the joys and the struggles and the experiences that have shaped us.  


The mornings were especially sweet.  We sipped coffee and these great protein drinks she made us and laid feet to feet in her new hammock; (Annie helped hang it), talking, praying, reading and sometimes even crying. We know each other so well; particularly where we’ve come from, and it was sometimes kind of sad and poignant to see the defenses we’ve taken on to cope with everything life throws at you.  We’re still the same essence of Karen and Karla, but life changes you, doesn’t it?  And there’s nothing like seeing yourself from an old friend’s eyes to reflect how you’ve changed to weather it all through the years.

Bless Karen and William for having a BBQ the last night I was there and inviting a few of their long-time friends, including . . . guess who?  Annie Whitehouse and Jane Gerberding, the two nursing students with Karen at the University of Wyoming I wrote about in the last post!  Annie had recently moved to Denver from Nigeria, serving with Doctors without Borders.  (Of course she was in Nigeria, adventurous girl.)  


I felt comfortable with her right away.  We sat out in the cool of the evening, as the hamburgers and sausages smoked and Karen and William, good people that they are, kept busy in the kitchen, creating a space for us to connect.  And connect we did. Here I was, sitting with Annie Whitehouse, one of the top climbers in the country; maybe even the world and she was incredibly gracious and humble.  She was quiet and elegant and thoughtful.  Being with her made me feel quiet and elegant and thoughtful, too.

I couldn’t wait to get to her story, but she graciously asked me all sorts of questions about myself – big picture kind of questions.  I found myself telling her the story of my life this past 30 years.  And she listened and kept asking questions.  It amazed me that she cared.  I even told her about the vertigo and the story of how I found the mountain climbers and particularly how I had found her reading about that Annapurna expedition.   As we weaved our way into her story, I was able to ask the questions about that climb that had been burning in me over the past months.  I yearned to hear the real story. 

Like why didn’t she go on that second summit trip? 

Karen and Jane joined us after dinner and we looked at the pictures in my precious book I had brought from home for Annie to sign, Annapurna, A Women’s Place. We pored over the maps, tracing their journey through Nepal. We set up base camp with them.  We carried loads across the Dutch Rib. We stared at those forlorn camps high on the mountain and imagined how lonely it would be way up there.  We marveled at the victorious picture of the first summit team. And most importantly, we heard the real story of the second summit team.  Annie was slated with three other women to go up with that team.  Why didn’t she go?  What changed her mind?  What wisdom inside was guiding her? 

Turns out, it was pretty simple.  The best stuff always is.  Twenty-one year old Annie sized it up, turning a hard eye on the limited resources and found that there was nothing left.  Aha, that wasn’t in the book!  The first summit team had exhausted it all; there was no more food, no more oxygen, and no Sherpa support.   But those women on the second summit team were determined to go up anyway.  Annie could see that one of them was really faltering. Her climbing wasn’t strong.  Climbing is all about the team.  Annie looked at the team as a whole and said no.  And despite the pressure, she held her ground.  Dear God, I admired her.

She thought about Yeshi. That wasn’t in the book either. There was someone to come back to - a warm, beating heart who cared about her fiercely, waiting faithfully at base camp. That sweet boy trusted her judgment.  Why take that kind of a chance she asked herself?  Is the summit so important? Her face twisted with such an intense expression as she told that part of her story.  Turns out, that relationship was the real thing.  She ended up marrying him in Namche Bazar. But that’s later. 

She waited for them.  That’s not in the book either.  She waited two days and two long nights, alone at Camp III, waiting for those two women to return from the summit.  I didn’t know that. That brave girl waited for them, utterly alone at Camp III, over 20,000 feet with precious little food or supplies where a bird can’t even survive.  She waited for them so they would have a safe haven to return to on their way back from the summit.  Can you imagine being all alone on the top of the world?  Can you imagine how dark it would be?  How deathly quiet?  My esteem for her soared.

But they never came back. 

Finally, after the second night, she knew that she could wait no longer and she had to come down.  Alone, frighteningly alone, cold, hungry, brain foggy with altitude, she descended slowly along that razor sharp Dutch Rib.  Karen, Jane and I gasped at the picture of it.  It was a long, terrifying way down on either side. She talked about how she had to trust the fixed ropes, slipping on either side, threatening to tumble into Tibet.  


Karen told me later from the hammock that she was just amazed that Annie never once worried that she would die.  That really struck her. The other two women weren’t so fortunate.  No one really knows what happened.  It is surmised that one of them had a fatal slip, pulling the other one down with her. But the details of the tragedy are hidden in their destinies high on that mountain. 

She was only 21 years old.  I can’t help but think that courage, strength, intelligence, common sense and non-anxious trust shaped her character for the rest of her life.  That’s why she went on to climb many more mountains. That’s why she went to Nigeria with Doctors without Borders.  That’s why I got to meet her at that lighthearted gathering of friends on a summer evening in Denver 30 years later.

One more thing.  It was interesting hearing about the different characters of the women on Annapurna.  She said there were basically two kinds of people; those who worried about the food and those who did not.  I went through all of their pictures, “Did she worry about the food?  What about her?”  Of course you know what camp my heroine was in - - the non-anxious presence who did not worry about the food!  


She marveled that she had absolutely no anxiety at 21.  She called it a “take-away” and I’m thinking about that as I reflect not only on the trip, but on how I’ve moved through much of my life as I’ve grown older.  Of course, thirty years later and a lot of life have shown her what anxiety is.  But oh, to be free of anxiety!  That would be my heaven.  I want to be trusting, to be cool under pressure, to know that I’ll get what I need when I need it.  I want to be a mountain climber who doesn’t worry about the food!

But it’s all about balance, isn’t it?  Thank you William and Karen for buying the meat and making the salad and cutting up the watermelon, and making sure there was a great lemon cake and having a backyard to even have a BBQ!  Thank you for your hospitality and generous hearts to contain us all.  Thank you, William and Karen for providing the “food”.  Yes, it’s all about balance.  I’m learning to be smart and prudent, sizing up the available resources, while still being a free spirit, living spontaneously and letting myself be surprised.  More and more, I’m trusting that I’ll make the right decision when a decision is required and until then, live with a clear mind and a light heart. 

Thank you, Annie for sharing your story with me.  Thank you for caring about something beyond the food; thank you for caring about life as it unfurls in its glorious majesty, anchored solidly in the mighty mountain of heart, reason and spirit.

Annie, me, Allison and Karen

OCCIDENTAL FARMER’S MARKET

This town has great energy! There are a lot of farmers markets in the Bay Area but this one on Friday nights in Occidental is extra special.  I think you would like it dear readers in the Bay.  Take off work early on a Friday and hurtle on up here – it’s only about an hour and a half from Oakland.

Our friends, Gloria and Jack, were our hosts for the weekend.  This is a special place for them. They even got married here. (Way creative, way cool.) We tasted our way from booth to booth, meeting their friends and taking pictures with my new camera!  Check out this bouquet made special for Gloria - $7.00. 

We carried a bag full of jams, baked goods and honeys and I had a big plate of paella for dinner, sopped up with hunks of artisan bread, check it out …

I didn’t want to be anywhere else, sitting out there in the cool of the evening, eating paella and peach pie with Rob, Gloria and Jack, and all the Occidental hippie types with their kids and their guitars and their natural women and the overall relaxed vibe . . .

Later we watched the sun set over the surf from Coleman Valley Road and passed the church in Bodega where the movie, The Birds, was filmed.  I got a very cool shot of it with a luminous moon. 

I’m back on my game.

Thanks be to God!