The things I do that make you wonder!

Yesterday’s encounter may make you cringe and wonder about my sanity. 

I wonder too…

The holidays are a particularly tough time to be alone, especially when the friend you usually celebrate with decides that this year there is no room for you in his proverbial inn. 

I had that coming for a long time, yet I decided to stay in Paris for the holidays and spend a maximum of lazy time with my girls. We’ve all been tired lately

The nights get lonely though once the girls are in bed, but instead of going the obvious way of inviting friends over for drinks and dinner I signed up for a dating website. Yes, I decided that my friends would be too busy with their families, so why not mix with the other lonely single people. I decided that is was okay to at least get some attention and have some talks to get through the nights.

Mind you, I mostly ignored the site. I’d go on from time to time and check my popularity  (I’m so vainnnnn) and eventual messages and then quickly log off because basically I’m not looking for a man. I’m looking for me first and foremost.

Yesterday I was alone for the day. I was playing on my computer and left the website open. Curiosity and having no plans got the best of me. I ended up chatting with Marcello. I told him that I was going to log off as I planned on going for lunch in a nearby restaurant from friends. He said “If I’d live close by we could go for lunch together”.

Half an hour later I met Marcello in front of the metro station in mine AND his neighborhood. Five minutes later I’m rolling through the city on the back of this stranger’s scooter. 

Today I deactivated my account from the dating website.

Life lessons

Friday mornings are secretly kind of special. Not special special, just different. I take the girls to school wearing my pajamas under my clothes, I'm unwashed, unkempt, me quoi!

Same last Friday when I bumped into the owner of the bar in my street. He invited me in and so I told him: "Well, you know, I'm unwashed, unkempt and wearing my pajamas still".

He offered me a coffee after offering me a beer.

We're talking when on the opposite side of the street a man walks by wearing a hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses on this early morning of this very grey day? Ok!

Maestro winks at him to come in. Other than the hat and sunglasses the guy is wearing a big smile. He introduces himself as Said, because that's what people prefer, because it makes him more beur (Arab). Giggle. His name is actually Saidhi and he's Congolese.

He talks and talks and sings and smiles. We talk, we laugh, we hit a beat... Then he stops, looks at me and says: "Look at yourself, no wonder"....

No wonder what?

"Look at how you're sitting there.” And he mirrors me as he’s talking… “You can hardly breathe like that. And as far as I know breathing is one of the essential things we must do in order to live. And to live well we need to let the energy flow, breath well".........

BAM!!!

Where had I heard these words before? Posture, breathing, letting the energy flow through all of your body, not just to your upper legs and back. Feet positioned on the floor. Balance from head to toes...

I had let myself slip again. And I was feeling it...

Life lessons (or reminders) may come from perfect strangers and early in the morning. And in a bar while wearing your pajamas under your clothes! 

The loan!

It wasn’t an encounter per se, except maybe on a higher level.

I loaned money to a friendly acquaintance or an acquainted friend from my neighborhood bar. The fact that I don’t know where to classify him should tell you the relationship isn’t an established one. On the other hand the fact that we star in a video together might make you believe we are quite close. It might also show you the kind of guy he is. If he starts talking no one gets a word in, especially not tiny old me. Ha!

Ok, all of this started halfway through September. I handed him the money and we agreed on how and when he would pay me back. Two fixed dates; he’d get in touch with me, I’d come down and he’d pay me back.  Cool, right?

It’s not how things went. The first repayment date came and went without a word. Small neighborhood, I bumped into him the next day. He let me know that it would take an extra couple of days. He'd changed jobs and he wasn't paid yet.

“Sure, no problem.”

The next week I got a message telling me he'd be around later. Nothing happened.

A week later I bumped into him and Lola (you remember Lola), both drunk. It was a Friday afternoon and I was with my girls. I didn't feel like getting into it with him then and there. He promised again to contact me that same day, but I knew better then to believe anyone in that state. 

Then last week he walked by my apartment. I was sitting on my couch overseeing the street and saw him. As he looked up he saw me. Two minutes later I had another message “Salut, I’ll be coming by in a bit”.

Of course that didn’t happen. So the next day I sent him a message saying “You must really take me for a fool”. He immediately called me and said he’d see me that afternoon…

Again nothing happened, but I decided that I couldn't deal with it at this point. Too much going on as I was leaving to go to a retreat that night and honestly I wasn't feeling it yet.

I may have cursed that day. I felt used and taken for a fool. I wasn't sure how to deal with this. To what point was I supposed to stand up for myself and to what point should I just show grace.

The retreat made me not think of the situation at all and after coming back from the retreat I had actually kind of forgotten about it. Tons of work, a big cold, the kids, the house, the bills, the, the, the...

To my surprise I saw him again last night. And what I saw was not the same guy. His eyes were sad and worried, his head hanging down. He was skittish. He asked to speak with me, but not in front of the girls. We stepped aside and he grabbed my hands. He begged me to forgive him. He asked to have more time to pay me back. Then he begged some more. He looked pitiful. Where was the proud guy I knew?

He rambled on and on about what had happened and why he couldn’t pay me back. I tried to get my side of the story in, but I felt like whatever I had to say was not being heard. I felt like there was no way I could get through to him. I felt there was no point in continuing the conversation…

Then I suddenly felt peace and a force coming over me. I felt like I had grown as tall as he was standing before me, and that’s tall. I grabbed him by his upper arms and all the right words came out then and there: “Stop talking and listen, you can’t pay me back right now, that’s ok. Don’t worry about the money. It’s not the problem; the problem is you not being honest with me. Don’t you ever make me feel like a fool again. Pay me back whenever you can, but be honest with me in whatever you say.”

That’s where or ways parted. 

I may never get my money back. I don’t care. The money might be worth the lesson I learned about who I am and what I want to stand for in life. I may not have always lived along those lines myself, but from now on I want to be the person that when you honor me with the truth, even if it hurts me, I will honor you with grace!  

Monday Morning

Monday morning on the metro, the world is even more depressing than the rest of the week. Faces turned downwards, eyes looking inwards or focused on phones. The conversation is at best “Pardon” or “Excusez-moi” while pushing one’s way in or out.

I’m bopping a bit to the music I’m listening to, because there’s no room for a sway. At least I’m able to forget about the general state of sadness for a bit.

I hear a lady speak behind me. I look around and see that she’s not talking to anyone in particular. Like the rest of the people around me I’m assuming that she’s just one of the many a little bit crazy people on the metro.

She has me intrigued though.

She looks really classy and seems more joyful than the other people speaking to themselves and she’s definitely not trying to hide her speaking aloud. She looks around, she smiles and then she reaches out to a man in the middle of the car. She offers him a handkerchief.

I take my earbuds out. This is getting interesting.

The man looks embarrassed. How to get rid of the attention of this crazy woman quickly? He refuses apologetically. She insists. He refuses ones more and looks away. If he doesn’t see her, she isn’t there.

A young guy on the other side of me smiles big. She thanks him for reciprocating her joy.

I look at her and jokingly tell her that she sure is dealing with a tough crowd this morning. She bends over to me as to tell me a secret. “Next time” she says “I’ll have to prepare better”…

We both laugh. We both know.

She then announces to the crowd that this is her stop. She bows and thanks them for their attention. She tells them that she hopes she gave them a little bit of joy on this Monday morning and that she wishes them a happy day.  

As it’s my stop too we get off the metro together and walk out of the station together.

She tells me that she just couldn’t contain the JOY she was feeling in her heart. She had sung in a choir on Sunday and that it had left her feeling so happy that she just had to share her JOY with the world…

I wish I had a little bit more of her. I tell her. I thank her. We both go our own way… Monday morning on the metro!!!

The smile of an encounter

Some encounters don't last more than a couple of seconds; the encounter itself that is. The effects may linger on for a long time after.

It’s like a domino effect, but instead of there being falling there’s lifting up…

The other day I went out early. I “needed” new shoes for a wedding where I was the witness for a young man that is very special to me and my little family.

I also wanted to go to the gym still. I needed to evacuate stress. Not sure how a single mom ever gets stressed.

After I would have to pack still, pick up the girls from school and make it to the train station in time. 

I was rushing in the street carrying two bags, my jacket and phone in hand, as I saw a woman struggling to get up a steep sidewalk in her wheelchair.

I rushed towards her to push her up looking totally silly with all that I was carrying. She didn't care one bit about how I looked though, she cared however that someone looked out for her. She smiled big and thanked me and we both went our way.

Her day changed, and so did mine in just a couple of seconds. I smiled as I carried on with my day.

I was still smiling when I got to the tram stop where I bumped into a tall skinny man with burn scars on his chest. He looked a bit scary, and he also looked intently at me. So I took off my headphones to hear what he was whispering.

"You have a beautiful smile", he said. "Keep it", he said, "The world needs smiles". We talked for the duration of the shared tram trip and we both smiled as he got off the tram and wished each other a beautiful day.

I don’t know where the smiles from both the man and the woman went after the encounter, but mine stuck around all day. I was more relaxed in everything I did that day. I was more open to other encounters, other strangers, other smiles.

I used to not be able to help strangers. I was afraid of failing, of being judged. I was riddled with shame about me as a person. I was not allowed to stand out and didn't allow myself to stand out either. At any rate if I didn't help I would feel shame and judgment too, but it was just mine and at least I hadn't taken the risk of failing. So why would I help?

Thanks to the love and encouragement of the people that surround me and the strangers I've met so far something has shifted in me though and I think it must be my silly bone. The one that makes me sing aloud in the street, do a little dance on the metro and generally cares less about how people see me, as long as I make me smile and maybe them.  

It feels so much better to feel free to act according to the heart. To grace people with kindness instead of ignoring their and my need for love. I love the little encounters that make life feel like we’re in a shared effort for happiness… My life definitely feels richer because of them!

Lola

Sitting on the terrace of the bar in my street eating a chicken, that’s how I find Lola this Friday afternoon. She’s tucking in with her hands and her face shows how much she enjoys this simple meal.

I sit down at the table with her for a drink, because sitting down at a different table is not what you do at the bar in my street.

We’re talking and chatting and laughing. 

Lola is a woman full of energy, a woman that looks like she’s enjoying life to the fullest. She’s beautiful in her being. She makes me want to take her picture.

I get up and go home to get my camera.

As I get back Lola immediately starts posing. This isn’t actually how I wanted things to go. I prefer shooting people unnoticed and Lola is visibly not at ease posing.  But since I promised her to take pictures that is what I do.

When she starts talking again she tells me that she doesn't like her pictures taken, because in pictures you can see the soul of a person. They reflect the sadness that's hidden deep within.

She grabs her bag and takes out a picture of her mom, holds it next to her own face and asks me if I see why her mom has always hated her? She tells me she is one of four sisters and three brothers, but she's the only one hated by her mom.

Of course I see it; Lola looks exactly like her mom. So when Lola sees pictures of herself, she sees her mom and feels her hatred.

Soon I’ll find out though that unfortunately that’s not all the sadness Lola carries inside.

Giorgio, the waiter, asks me to show him the pictures I took of him and Lola, because he’s interested in me taking pictures for him for a photo book he needs for his work. So as I do, Lola asks me if she can also see the pictures I took of her.

I flip through the pictures with her and Lola starts crying. She grabs her arms to hug herself and shows me the goose bumps. She shows a whole array of emotions and for a moment I fear her getting angry with me. 

Then she suddenly grabs some identity card out of her bag and shows it to me. I do not recognize the person in the picture.

It’s the picture of a woman wearing a headscarf and a totally blank facial expression. I don’t see what she’s showing me, I don’t get what I’m supposed to see, until she starts talking again.

The person in the picture is Lola. It’s the Lola that was enslaved in an abusive marriage for 10 long years.  

The marriage ended a mere two years ago when her now ex-husband threatened to kill her bastard kids from her first marriage. That’s when Lola found the courage she needed to break free.

The picture that made her cry is a picture where she’s having some fun with Giorgio. It shows the same gesture of her grabbing herself to hug herself. It also shows a shift in emotion from the fun she’s having with Giorgio back to the dark place where she used to live in.

I promised her not to show that picture.

Lola, sweet, Lola. Always laughing, always dancing!!!

As a side note: While comforting Lola I told her that I know how she feels. She quickly retorted “Oh, do you?” Of course I don’t. As much as I was stuck in a bad marriage for years for things out of my control, I never had to fear for my life or the life of my children. A story isn’t about the writer, unless it’s an autobiography.

Fortuné Maestro

Tonight I met an angel!

I was standing at Saint Lazare on the quai of metro line 3 when I heard a noise. I looked up and vaguely saw someone struggling down the stairs with a trolley with boxes on it and losing control. I felt rushed to get home, end of a long year and finally on vacation, so why would I care about some stranger that was making his or her day complicated by travelling with more stuff than they could possibly handle???

But my look went back to the person and this time I took the time to actually see the person…

I saw a frail little lady. White hair, white clothes, wrinkled face, sparkling eyes. She just stood there looking at her trolley and the boxes threatening to fall off.

I realized that if I were her I would be glad if at least one person in the crowd would stop looking at me struggling and reach out to help, so I got over myself and went up the stairs to help. She warned me kindly that we had to do it together because the load was heavy. It made me smile because she looked like she wasn’t going to be able to lift more than her handbag, but OY!

We carried the trolley down the stairs. She told me how kind I was to help her and thanked me profusely. I asked her if she wanted me to help her get the trolley on the metro, but she said “Ca va aller” (I can handle). Who was I to contradict her?

We stood a door away from each other when the metro came. Tons of people spilling out and then the door signal rang signaling the closing of the doors. I looked at her hesitating to get on. I quickly walked over and lifted the trolley on the metro. The doors closed right behind me. We made it!

Of course she thanked me again. At first I decided I was going to sit away from her, because I didn’t want to get in the way of this clearly determined lady, and to be honest, I’m not a small talker. But something drew me near to her and we sat side by side…

The conversation that followed was heartwarming. She told me that she was 79 and moving from a house in the suburbs to a chambre de bonne across from her daughter’s place in the 11th district. She said I feel like a student again and her face beamed with JOY.

She asked me if I ever moved and how I did that. It was funny to me that this spirited older lady asked my advice. She had to get rid of a lot of her belongings because of moving to a smaller place, but that didn’t really seem to bother her. Instead she was all excited about living in Paris with this whole public transport system at her feet.

The conversation came to my life and when she found out that I’m a single mom she said “You know what? I was a single mom too and my daughter is fabulous, don’t you worry, your girls will be fabulous too. Just make sure that you surround yourself with some good girlfriends to laugh at the frustrations with and all will be fine”.

At that point we arrived at Parmentier. She got up, thanked me one last time, gave me a hug and kissed my forehead…

I asked her if she wanted help and with a smile she said “Ca va aller”. I jumped up, dropped my bag, picked up the trolley one last time, put it on the quai for her and then the doors closed……

This frail little lady full of energy and JOY, she made me think of who I want to be at 79 and she made me believe that I can… Because tonight I met an angel, and she told me that I’m an angel too!!!