It Only Takes A Smile

“Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward.”-Nelson Mandela

I love the sun. When I was a child, my mother would always say “the sun loves you.”  I am half Filipino, and generally have tanned skin that rarely burns.   The sun is my life force, particularly in the dreary months of January and February in cold parts of the world.  I’ve been living in the UK for 8 ½ years, and now Paris.  On the shortest day of the year, the sun seems to set nearly close to 330 pm!  There is little day, and along with that it can feel as if there is little hope. I long for every moment with the sun, when she peaks out from hiding.  

But currently I am in California, a place I used to live.  There is a heat wave where it is near 30 degrees Celsius (practically 90 degrees Fahrenheit).  Although I love the sun, it’s almost too much for me at the moment.  I didn’t pack properly and my unexposed skin seems to burn slightly easier having lived in Northern Europe a bit too long. 

Despite this I am navigating my moments with the sun. I wake up with her as she stretches over the downtown Los Angeles horizon and slowly brightens the light in my bedroom.  She seems to wake up earlier here than in Paris.  I have crept down outside after my morning daily discipline routines are done, and spend time with her before she gets to her peak.  

It’s interesting, although the sun traditionally has been known to have more of a masculine energy, and the moon feminine, I still call the sun “her.”  In the English language, we don’t use these masculine and feminine articles, but in the romance languages it’s necessary.  Everything is categorized as masculine or feminine, for example:

                                     Sun                               Moon

Spanish               el sol (masc)                          la luna (fem)

French                le soleil (masc)                      la lune (fem)

For some reason, in my heart, I seem to view the Sun and the Moon both as feminine entities.  This may be due to their life giving energies, which are the foundation of our days.  Yet even in yoga, the Sun is seen as more of a masculine yang energy: doing, active, busy, productive.  The Moon is more feminine yin energy: reflective, slower pace, and intuitive.  But when I lay in the sun after long periods without her, I am not busy.  I am interacting with the sun in a feminine way.  I am taking her in, simply being versus doing.  I am receptive to what she wants to give me.  Perhaps this is why I tend to idealize the sun as her, especially when there have been long moments without her.  

It’s easy to forget how much I appreciate the sun, when I’ve lived in places like Hawaii and California.  The sun is a constant that is taken for granted, and is only missed during a period of endless cloudy days.  But when you reside in a dreary city or country, the sun does become an old friend that you are catching up with.  You don’t want the day to end.  

And so today I sit in the sun, take her in, and embrace our sacred moments together (before she reaches her peak).  

I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days.
Henry David Thoreau

“Legacy. What is a Legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see” /Lin-Manuel Miranda

On my long expedition this past week from Paris to Los Angeles, I was able to catch a film I have been longing to see on the plane: In the Heights.  This was Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first musical which he wrote as a college student, but only recently was released on film.  As I watched this, I couldn’t help but be pulled into the emotions, drive, and motivation of the characters.  

There is something spectacular about almost every musical I have come in contact with, ever since I watched Olivia Newton John and John Travolta in Grease.  In junior high, my friends and I wanted to emulate the Pink Ladies, and nicknamed ourselves with their names.  We found joy in being silly, learning how to hand jive, outburst into song, or recite the lines from memory.

Although I love books and film, there is something different with musical theater.  My connection is heightened when their lines are sung, versus simply read.  It’s pure brilliance: storylines, dance, sound, emotions, desire, conflict, and drive all contained into words that rhyme.  How I used to long for the world to exist as a musical!  As I’m watching this magic being performed, I can feel everything the actors are feeling.  The inspiration is contagious.  I’ve caught what they have been trying to convey.   And my motivation to live a fuller life exists for days or even weeks after the show is complete. 

I have never been an actress, and was only in one high school musical as a background singer.  I do not yearn to be on the stage.  But I do want to embrace the drive and zest for life these performers exude.  There will always be a special place in my heart for musicals, and I’m so grateful for the brilliance that playwrights and lyricists have shared with the world.  

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.” -Meister Eckhart

When things go smoothly when I travel, I can’t help but think “Merci” to the travel guides, gods, and angels that are there assisting me.  This is particularly the case, with the ease of travel during a pandemic.  I’m en route last minute to assist a family member who is having surgery in his aftercare.  The original caregiver got Covid, and voile c’est moi!  It is fine, since I do not have a regular job to attend to. But the universe is definitely assisting with ease to ensure I get there safely, promptly, and with limited stress. 

My uber driver got me to the airport promptly in a BMW.  As I arrived, I received assistance from multiple staff members who directly guided me from one station to another.  One staff member began asking if I had a heavier coat because I may get cold at the next airport.  She even inquired about my world: where I’m from, my profession, and future endeavors.  I was curious about this.  Was it the positive energy I was vibrating that was attracting these helpful friendly guides or maybe she was an angel in disguise reminding me of my larger purpose?  It didn’t matter, either way I was appreciative of this.  I handed out my Puzo/Bella gratitude cards to most of these people.  I can’t help but feel extra appreciation when I travel.  It’s a brief period of stress for voyagers.  There’s a precise timeline that must be met and numerous steps that must be met: packing, ensuring one’s pets are taken care of, transportation, passport, covid tests, additional paperwork, tickets.  All must be followed in a timely manner to ensure the journey occurs, oftentimes it isn’t pleasant.  Therefore, when it is, I’m full of gratitude.

I encourage you to witness the helpful people that assist you next time you travel.  The universe is assisting you, and all that’s necessary for you is to accept this and say merci!

This weekend I have to go on a last minute trip to the USA to help out a family member with something.  I will be gone for two weeks and have the time and freedom to do this.  I currently do not have a 9-5 job, my first month of French class will be over, and the follow up French class in February is already booked up.  I’m happy I can help, but I realize I actually don’t want to leave Paris.  It took so much to finally get here amidst the pandemic: numerous covid tests, quitting my job, sorting out movers and cleaners for my previous residence, getting rid of many of my belongings, the rules enforced between the UK and France that almost forbid this move to happen, my pets’ health certification.  I left everything to come to a city, where I only had several acquaintances. 

In the span of 1 ½ months, I finally have gotten into the rhythm of things in Paris.  And I don’t want to leave.  True it’s probably the worst month weather wise here in the City of Lights.  Yesterday it topped 1 degree Celsius (this is 34 Farenheit), and I will be travelling to sunny southern California, where currently it is 20 degrees Celsius (around 70 degrees Farenheit).  But it’s almost as if I don’t want to miss any moments of Paris.  My visa is for one year.  I am 6 weeks into my stay, and I have two planned trips to America in the upcoming months.  All of these are for family obligations, and I do want to be there for my family for these beautiful moments.  But I also want to be here. 

Recently, I have spoken with an expat who has moved here.  She has plans to travel various parts of Europe while here. I realize for the first time in awhile, I don’t want to go anywhere.  I actually just want to stay in Paris.  Perhaps this is because, I have lived in the UK for 8 ½ years, and have visited 50 countries.  Now that I’m here, I don’t want to leave.  As I write this, I am aware that this may be an indication of something.  My heart may want to stay here longer than one year.

It’s interesting how quickly we can make a city become our home.  Yes, I’m still learning the language, and probably make an embarrassment out of how I pronounce words daily.  I live in a 290 square foot apartment, which I downsized massively from a four floor house.  I go to the market every other day, because my fridge is the size of one in a college dorm.  I am slowly building friendships, which take time to develop.  I am trying to build community, and reaching out to different organizations in ways I have not done in years.  I’m inching further with my book, going back and forth with additional edits for that final proposal, which will be pitched any moment to publishers.  Things are not perfect here, but I am truly enjoying the days that have occurred.  I have a one year visa and I am trying to savor every moment that passes, as one wants to linger on the tiny bites of a salted caramel macaroon.  

As I return to America for two weeks, it is as a visitor.  Paris is my new hometown.  It feels familiar, but also simultaneously mysterious.  It’s already beckoning me to return.  After I get my two weeks in the sun, I can’t wait to see what the remaining months have in store. 

“America is my country and Paris is my hometown.”-Gertrude Stein

“The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.” – Hans Hofmann

The decision to move to Paris was not to just live in a new country, where I don’t speak the language, or to give up a 9-5 job.  It was also to transition to tiny home living.  I was living in a four floor house in the UK for several years before making this leap.  My home is now 27 square meters, or 290 square feet!  This may be the smallest home I have ever lived in, smaller than the dorms I lived in at the University of Hawaii, where I lived as a crisis counselor.  This is definitely an adjustment.  

Things I miss include a washing machine, a large fridge, storage space, but I most miss my massive collection of books.  These are all currently en route to a storage unit in the states.  In addition, my couch has become the dogs hang out space.   I’m afraid that if I had friends over, we would have to sit on the floor.  Puzo and Bella seem to rule the apartment.

But despite all of this, I am somehow enjoying living in a compressed space.  One has to be creative with storage possibilities.  In addition, whatever you choose to bring into the house, you must ask yourself these essential questions: Will I really use this?  Will I have space for this? Do I love this? Is this necessary? Will I have to discard anything to make space for this?   In the past, when storage was limitless, none of these questions crossed my mind.  What I thought about included one question: Is this on sale? 

There also is a comfort with living in a small space.  Everything around me I love and use.   In the past, when I lived in a big home, I would sometimes awake in the middle of the night and think how large the house was, and I was living alone, away from family and friends.  It was almost too big for me.  Now when I wake up in the middle of the night, this space now fits like a cozy sweater I wanted to curl up in.  

Many of us stay in small spaces temporarily (also known as hotel rooms), but I do encourage everyone to opt to briefly try living in a tiny home.  Explore what it would be like.  What may be your struggles? What may be your hidden joys?  What are you living with that isn’t necessary?  What are your essentials?  It seems like we should be asking ourselves these questions in our lives on a daily basis.  Subtract the excess and love the life (and space) you are living in. 

I’m currently listening to the book Pep Talks for Writers, by Grant Faulkner (free currently on Audible Plus).   One particular tip Pep Talk 8: The Art of Boredom lures me in.  Grant discusses the importance of allowing ourselves to be bored, which is a tip shared by many other creative geniuses.  But so often we forget this.

Quick checks of our social media account or scrolls through the news headlines may give us cheap rushes of excitement, but they pass just as fast as they arrived.  “My brain craves novelty and stimulation, and I am caught in a loop of compulsive neediness,” the author shares when grabbing at his phone every free moment he gets.  Many of us are like Grant, each opportunity that arises where we have a spare second, phones are grabbed.   He further adds, “It seems as if all of the entertaining diversions the internet delivers will be fulfillment, but the flickers and headlines tend not to nourish my soul.”  It’s as if in those brief moments where we are not occupied by doing something, we fill that space with more knowledge or distraction, versus allowing the space to be empty.

When we cradle our phones every spare second, we are robbing ourselves the privilege of being bored.  Yes bored!

After many months of travelling, prepping for my move to Paris, and slowly settling in as a local, I’ve allowed myself to be bored.  I have kept up my weekly digital sabbatical, but also I’ve given myself the gift of not working for at least one year in a traditional job.  Now that I’ve had the space to be bored, creativity has flourished.  I’ve completed my book proposal (as I await news from my agent), written blog posts, worked on my podcast again, and actually recorded meditations again for both Aura and Insight Timer.

“Being bored signals to the mind that you’re in need of fresh thoughts and spurs creative thinking,” Grant shared.  Not all of us may have the luxury to quit our jobs at the moment, but we can take the opportunity to turn off our devices for 24 hours (or even several hours) and simply allow ourselves to wander into the world of boredom.  See what arises within.  Or even observe what is popping up in your environment.  Listen to conversations around you, the sounds that you may have habituated to, or take in the colors and flavors of this moment.  Perhaps a creative idea may arise, if you give yourself the gift of boredom.

Since I have moved to Paris one month ago, I’ve been lucky enough to meet locals and non-locals.  With non-locals that have chosen to move here, Paris is a world of wonder.  There’s gratitude and joy for getting to live in this city.  Paris is full of opportunities and culture.  Their dreams have been realized, and they remind themselves of this fact each day when they walk down the boulevards or pop into boulangeries. 

For local Parisians, I find that some are fed up with their city.  Complaints arise, such as it’s dirty, too expensive, too crowded, not enough nature, too many tourists, etc.  They desire to move to the country or even another country.  There is an idealization of how other people choose to live their lives.  One has lived in Japan for four years, and longs to return to Japan.  He admires the respect the people have for their land.  Another is lured by the mystique of the American West, the novelty and intrigue of the land and it’s people fascinates him.  Another spoke of Brazil and the liveliness that exists among the people there.

Both viewpoints resonate with me.  I have lived in multiple places in the world, and although currently I am a newbie to this town, I know what it’s like to despise where one lives.  Yet, it’s all a matter of choice.

I couldn’t help but think of the end of the Woody Allen film Midnight in Paris.  Owen Wilson’s character is fascinated by life in Paris in the 1920s, and magically steps into that world each night when midnight strikes.  He meets another character played by Marion Cotillard who exists in the 1920s but she idealizes the time from La Belle Epoque, which occurred from 1871-1914.  In the film, these two actors jump back into that era as well.  Both characters have a yearning to be part of a reality that existed in the past, but not the present.  Owen’s character eventually realizes the disconnect that’s occurring, as he says: “Yeah, that’s what the present is. It’s a little unsatisfying because life’s a little unsatisfying.” 

We long to be somewhere else, whether this is another city, country, or era.  This seems to be a fatal human trait.  We want what we don’t have.  But perhaps the point of life is to enjoy what you have while you have it.  That doesn’t mean you cannot change your future and where you choose to reside, but in the meantime how can you find joy and wonder in your current zip code?

Challenge: Find 5 things that spark joy in your neighborhood and share these with your loved ones (or with me below!)  

“…the whole of Paris is a vast university of Art, Literature and Music…it is worth anyone’s while to dally here for years. Paris is a seminar, a post-graduate course in Everything.”-James Thurber

There seems to be an endless amount of museums in Paris. I queried the official amount, and it totals 136 museums in the city of Paris! This is bountiful for a city that is actually quite small and walkable. It is only 6 miles long (North to South) and 7 miles wide (East to West). And therefore this past week, I checked out two additional art museums: Musee de Luxembourg and the Musee d’Art Moderne. One exhibit I had been excited about attending was the Vivian Maier exhibit. I first learned about her from the documentary Finding Vivian Maier. In the film, we discover a nanny who lived a double life as a minder of children and a street photographer. But the intriguing twist was nobody in her life was aware of this creative genius that existed among them. She hid her passion, and kept the beauty of her work for herself. The type of camera she had was a Rolleiflex, which could be worn on the neck and did not have to be brought to the eye to focus. It stayed stomach level, and she napped many of her subjects unknowingly. These were strangers on the street in cities around the world. At her death, most of her belongings were in a storage unit and were auctioned off. It was he who began to share her work with the world.

As I gazed at her works in the exhibit, I couldn’t help but wonder about the life of this woman. Why did she keep this skill private? Was she cautious of receiving criticism? How did she learn her craft? What went on in her head in her daily life? Was she satisfied in her job as a nanny because it covered the costs of her basic necessities of life and afforded her the opportunity to travel the world? My fascination with her continued as I walked past each image and into the gift shop that sold numerous replicas of her work as postcards or books. What would she think of this fame and her secret work being shared with the world?

I also began to think of the artists that exist among us. We are all creative beings, but why do some deny this aspect of themselves while others fully embrace it? What type of artist exists within you?