Saturday, March 23, 2013


Vacation at Home – Part 3

 

The Flaneur

 
The flaneur – that aimless stroller who loses himself in the crowd, who has no destination, and goes wherever caprice or curiosity directs his steps. . . the flaneur is in search of experience, not knowledge.  - The Flaneur, Edmund White
 
 
 
 Yes!  That’s exactly it!  I am a flaneur!  This captures the spirit of how to be on vacation at home.  I love being amidst the buzz of life, but from inside of myself, whether in Oakland or Paris. I am free to reflect and observe while surrounded by people at cafes, street fairs and urban parks.   

The trick to being on vacation at home is to cultivate this flaneur consciousness of finding things endlessly absorbing.  Learn how to loiter.  Stay curious!  Stay alive!  Keep it fresh!  Follow your nose.  What pulls you?  Take the detours.  Find the hidden gardens off the alleys, peek inside the pretty backyard porches, climb the stairways between the homes built in the ‘20s for hardy Berkeley walkers. Stop and take a quick look at the dining room of a new restaurant, grab a menu, wander in the neighborhood bookstore, delight in the flower arrangement outside of the florist shop. . . life is endlessly wondrous! 
 
 

Cultivate the state of being purposeless . This is vacation!  This is a lighthearted playfulness you can feel anywhere at any time.  Savoring the experience is a fun, interesting way to be in the world. 
 
 

Flaneur consciousness works best when I create a general structure for the day.  Studying maps and booklets and letting my enthusiasm build is an important part of the process.  But once I’m out there, I let go of the structure and abandon myself to unfettered spontaneity and curiosity. Every moment is an amazing opportunity to be present.  Be interactive with the environment, letting it reveal itself moment by moment. Be interruptible.  Don’t plan.  Let yourself be surprised. Let it open up like a wild, exotic flower before you.

 

His passion and creed is to wed the crowd. . . to take up residence in whatever is seething, moving, evanescent and infinite. - Baudelaire

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