one year later

It is almost one year since I met him. ‘Him’ being the reason I am living in Paris. So much of life is about timing. The rest is up to us. In the words of my mother, indeed the wisest woman I know, ‘everyone is given a moment in life that can alter its course forever, and it’s what you do in that moment that makes all the difference.’ Either the head or the heart must dictate. I chose the heart.

This is my story in short, to inspire those searching for love amidst the chaos and distraction of a city like NYC, or anywhere in the world for that matter. I met with love on the street, on a late evening in early Spring, in NYC’s Soho neighborhood. In one fortuitous moment two smiles were exchanged. Followed by a drink, followed by dinner (which will remain one of the most defining moments of my life), followed by simple knowing. Perhaps it all began with knowing.

Reflecting on my life, have I ever been one to follow the assigned path? To do what is expected of me? Yes, in regards to my academic and professional life. I climbed the proverbial ladder, so to speak, living 12 years of a highly responsible, moderately corporate, decreasingly satisfying life in NYC. Until I disembarked at a rather advantageous height and abandoned the ladder altogether (here begins my story of traveling the world, an experience that undoubtedly contributed to the status of my current life, to be delved into in later musings…) Back to the path, the vast vista that lies ahead in which all the secrets of our lives are revealed. When it came to love, I simply NEVER followed a path. Born a hopeless romantic who at around the age of 15 decided it wiser to live a life as ‘hopeful’, my heart ALWAYS dictates. For this, I thank my parents.

Every day amidst these foreign tastes and yet undecipherable sounds, I feel fortunate. Whenever appropriate I share my story with like-hearted women, those who for years have reputed love to be something only to read about in romance novels or to watch upon the big screen. (One too many heartbreaks can dissuade even the most diehard of romantics.) In our current state of ‘Generation X’ affairs, the mind often takes precedence over the heart. A career sets the path while love only provides temporary rest stops. I agree that we must follow our own path towards fulfillment, and whatever we consider to be success, but at what cost? Is not love the foundation upon which fulfillment and success is built? Beginning with the love of self.

I believe that you get what you ask for in life, what you truly desire. Often this is not so evident as it’s hidden deeply in our subconscious. But in a moment, or sometimes an entire lifetime of reflection, the answer becomes clear. Sometimes it’s as simple as smiling at a stranger.

to love and to be loved

French novelist George Sand once said “There is only one happiness in life — to love and to be loved.” Ah yes, love. This is the reason I am here, living an unexpected and privileged life in the city of lights. Whenever I feel uncertain of my existence upon this earth, (quite often during these cold, gray wintry months), who I am meant to be and what I am meant to do, I look at the smiling eyes beside me and I am quickly reminded of love. My ‘raison d’être’. An inner peace settles in. It is not the places nor the things but the people that provide the foundation of our lives.

Valentine’s Day. Another day to express the uniquely enabling sentiment of love, amour, amore! I have many sweet memories of this day in my life. Most cherished are those impressionable childhood years when my father would send me V-day cards in the mail, making certain I knew how much I was loved. Surely sentimentality (and corniness) are both traits I inherited. Today, my first Saint Valentin in the city where romance thrives and expressions of affection are visible on every street corner. I wonder what exactly is the difference between this day and all the others. Perhaps there is none, when in love.

an ode to love

 

On rare occasion I am left to my own devices in ‘the city of lights’. Not nearly as much fun to run wild amidst these serene, cobbled streets as in the cacophonous, never-ending avenues of ‘the city that never sleeps’. Or perhaps I have lost that desire to run, and I was never in fact so wild. On such nights when my love is far away, in the company of a glass (or two) of wine and a good camembert, I reflect on the single life I left behind. The endless girls’ nights which left me feeling somewhat pensive but mostly empowered, the numerous dates that left me longing for another girls’ night, and the many unique experiences that never left me. It is these many years of living alone, struggling to find purpose in a single existence without allowing work to dominate (the challenge of most single women in NYC), understanding that there comes a time for everything, that I moved so gracefully from single into double. Simply, I was ready. And in patience and faith, love, in the form of this dear creature with whom I now share my life, had come to ‘rescue’ me, as he playfully calls our chance encounter. Perhaps we rescued each other, just in time to confirm that true love still does exist. (Even I being a hopeful romantic was beginning to have doubts). And now, I can sit in a place I call home, in the quiet of my own breath and feel completely at peace. Happy to be alone for a brief moment, just long enough to appreciate the sensation of love and long for it’s return.

…to Paris

I arrived to Paris exactly five months since the dinner at which destiny was served me. It was a day long anticipated, seemingly much longer than the time that led to it. Since that day my love had returned twice more, the former visit driven by relentless passion, the latter a cordial family/birthday celebration. In the midst of these visits I had flown to Paris to indulge momentarily in my new life. It was then that we spent our first holiday together in Corsica, a clear indication of our mutual affinity for travel and beauty. But it is here in Paris where the story begins.

from NYC…

Each day prior to my departure is deeply savored, filled with faces and sights that have for so many years composed my life. NYC provided the grounds for me to become. It is the ideal city in which to discover yourself, if you can in fact find enough discipline and awareness not to become someone else. It is difficult to imagine that the streets and the scenes are soon going to change, the Empire State Building which I had woken up to for so long will soon turn into the Eiffel Tower.

the dream

Love is by no means rational. Nor should it be. Hence my decision to move to Paris. I didn’t think much whether it made sense, given that I didn’t speak French nor did I have any career prospects or know more than 3 people. But what I did have was much greater an achievement than learning a foreign language, much more stimulating than a strange and exciting new culture and indeed more fulfilling than endless girls nights of carousing. I had found my great love, and lucky me, his home was Paris. Had I followed my heart given that his home were in a more remote part of the world, say Knin in Croatia? (He would then be a 6 foot 6 basketball player no doubt). Perhaps then I would have convinced him to move to NYC to play for the NBA, who knows. But that is not my story, nor is it meant to be. My dream has always been Paris. And yes, for the sake of sounding terribly corny, if you believe in your dreams they do come true.

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