Bonjour Everyone!
I hope that all is well in your world.
The other evening while dining in Paris, I made a few observations.
First of all, as I sat there at the window alone, I happily watched the world go by. There was a man on the telephone on the other side of the street; he wore very large black headphones, and talked and talked and talked. But at another glance, I noticed that he listened, listened, and listened.
I saw a woman dressed very elegantly being pulled down the road by two little dogs. Little French dogs. Classically so. A matching pair of fur on tiny little dog bodies.
I saw a strikingly beautiful woman with midnight dark skin carrying bags of groceries.
I saw . . . I saw . . . I saw . . . ***
And then the cute, tiny waitress with black hair carefully clinging to her head as if it was afraid to stray came to my table with a stack of magazines.
? Quoi? J’ai pensé? Why is she bringing these magazines to me?
But of course . . . it makes others uncomfortable to see others alone.
Of course not EVERYone, but those who prefer not to be alone themselves.
That’s how we humans are. If we hate something, we think others do too. If we love something, we think others do too.
But is that true?
Of course not. Each one of us lives in our own little world privé. And in this private little world of ours, we see things, experience things, interpret things based on our conditioning, experience, etcetera.
And on this particular evening, when this cute, adorable, kind, and considerate person brought these magazines, I was grateful.
Porqué?
Because it gave me such a clear view of the world from others’ eyes. For I realize that as my world view has changed, as I’ve gone INside and been alone with MYself so very often in the past view years, I’ve changed. I’ve dropped so many things that used to weigh me down. Things that were important to me then, but aren’t now. Things that I carried on my back like a very heavy a sack. A backback of obligations. Things that I gladly carried then because i wanted to be a good girl, someone who was an active participant in this life as I knew it then.
But after she set those magazines down and quietly walked away, I smiled. Content. At peace. Recognizing the change and appreciating the change. And then . . . my eyes returned to the window on my left. The window view that I chose at a table for two. And but of course . . . said with a French accent, it was a table for two. For Pedrata was there with me. ;-)))
And . . . before I close and return to class, I think of a friend who’s a wonderful writer. And I imagine that she MAY be bothered by my use of incomplete sentences. Things like: content. Not, I was content, but just content, at peace.
But pour moi . . . it’s somehow more fun to write like that. To write as I think. As I speak. (that was one! ;-) And so I shall. For as I let those things drop to the ground, (or even rise to the sky), they simply disappear. Evaporate. Become no more. And I feel a peace that was previously unimaginable. But now there’s no need to imagine it. For it’s here to stay. A peace that’s absolutely unshakeable. And for that, I give thanks. Thanks with ALL of my heart and soul.
Alors, la clase va commencer . . .
A bientot et bisous xoxoxoxox
***
. . . a young girl running and laughing as she moved quickly down the sidewalk while winking at a man who strode confidently down the middle of the street . . . a man who I presumed to be her papa . . .
a man carrying two heavy packages of water, so heavy that his arms were extended by at least a foot for there was barely a centimeter between the bottom of the bottles and the cobbled sidewalk . . .
a black taxi which stopped right in front of the restaurant, just to the side of me . . . a foot that slipped out from behind the door finding the ground slowly and hesitantly . . . a sandeled foot on a woman who wore a trench coat tightly closed . . . the very same woman who removed the coat once in the restaurant exposing an elegant black dress with a V at the front that revealed even more . . . and a husband (presumably) with a paunch that extended well over his belt and a smile which stretched from ear to ear . . . ahh . . . I think he was also content, at peace.
Et vous? Qu’est-ce que vous pensez? What do you think?
Sj out
That’s me, Pedrata. I’m a rat. A Mexican rat.
