At that time, I didn’t know the gray of the sky was semi-permanent, that the drab monotony even had a name (la grisaille). I did intuit, however, that the city always looked beautiful anyway.
A transport strike (another common feature, I would learn) was in full swing and so I arrived into central Paris only after a chaotic RER and metro ride.
But out I finally popped onto Rue de Rivoli, the Hotel de Ville lit bright by early holiday lights. Beautiful. There’s that word again. I was overcome by my first sight.
Before leaving for the States last Christmas, I noticed some mysterious construction taking form in front of Notre Dame.
When I returned in the New Year, the scaffolding had transformed into steps and an illuminated walkway. The shape was complete, but an air of mystery remained.
I soon learned that the new buzz around Notre Dame denoted an anniversary. 2013 marks 850 years of the cathedral, in fact!
Excitement spread as nine new bells arrived, the largest, named Mary, coming in at six and a half tons (6000 kilograms). The new bronze beauties will chime for the first time next Sunday, March 23 for Palm Sunday.
I didn’t see the bells while they were on display, but I was struck by the large questions lining the side of the walkway as one ascends toward the cathedral.
Why was I created?
What is my relationship with others?
Why am I unique?
It’s been exactly a month since I updated the blog. Big questions like these above have been filling my mind, you see. Purpose, meaning, art, work, money, place, love. The ground is shifting; I am in one of those times of reevaluation, re-envisioning.
Often it’s helpful for me to bounce ideas off of others, to share the questions, to speak aloud the journey.
Sometimes, though, silence and sitting with oneself in quiet reflection is what is truly called for. Honing in so you can hear just the one voice – your own.
And so, that is what I am doing, friends, why I am less vocal here. I am trying to figure things out.
So scary and uncomfortable, uncertainty, but also what rich terrain to explore!
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
That quote by Mary Oliver often guides me during times like these.
Let me know what you’re doing with your one wild and precious life, friends. I miss you, even if I appear in your inboxes less often.
Someone shared this video with me recently. Flares are everywhere. I see them. I feel hope.
As many have noted, this is the last repetitive date we’ll see in our lifetimes (unless you can hang on another 88 years to 01/01/2101).
I’m a bit of a number nerd. Not so much into math, but a person who keeps strange little superstitions, making wishes at 11:11 and imbuing certain combinations with meaning. Hey, you never know!
Sometimes life does offer amazing moments of synchronicity, though.
After posting my James Baldwin essay yesterday, my fabulous roommate revealed that her uncle was close friends with the author. “Jimmy” was her cousin’s godfather!
James Baldwin and Robert Cordier (photo from Wikimedia Commons, posted by Acting123)
WHAT? I’ve been living with someone with a connection to my literary hero?!
“Yeah, we should all get coffee sometime,” she said casually.
“This is amazing!” I said.
She shrugged. “I wasn’t even going to mention it, but you keep talking about him.”
Sure enough, her uncle’s name sounded familiar. I went to my Baldwin biography and found several mentions of Robert Cordier. Then I googled him (of course) and found more: playwright, director, famed acting teacher, etc, etc. Whoa!
The contest has been going on for awhile, but I was too shy to mention it before. But along with my slight number fixation and surprise connections, I must also have a competitive underdog streak somewhere in there, too.
If you want to help create a last minute surge in the rankings, nice comments here by Friday count as votes for my blog. Hop on over if you’d like. Merci!
I’m thrilled to have an essay about one of my literary heroes over on Hunger Mountain.
“Another Country: James Baldwin at ‘Home’ (and) Abroad” explores how the author of such seminal American works as Notes of a Native Son and Go Tell It On the Mountain was influenced by his many years living abroad, first in Paris, and later in Istanbul. Revisiting his rich oeuvre was an amazing way to delve into questions of home, identity, and expatriation.
I’m also particularly excited because my essay sparked the journal to assemble a whole tribute to the author!
This year marks the 25th anniversary of Baldwin’s passing. I highlighted this fact in submitting the essay to explain why it was a great time to examine his legacy. I am so glad they agreed. Not only did they accept my essay, but they then went on to solicit other essays from several noted writers. I’m humbled and proud (is it possible to be both at once?) that my enthusiasm for Baldwin contributed to this tribute. Baldwin had a great impact on me and I’m delighted to shine a light on him and his work, still so moving and relevant today.
December! How is it the last month of the year already?
While I’m pondering just what the heck happened to 2012, exciting things are already brewing for the new year.
I’m delighted to announce that I’ll be teaching a fun 4-week class at WICE starting in mid-January.
“Getting Unstuck: Conquering Fear of the Blank Page” will offer tips and techniques to encourage writing. Fear of the blank page is normal – but it can be overcome! Emphasis will be on generating new material and is appropriate for all genres as we’ll be using a variety of prompts and exercises for fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.
Basically, I want to put the play back into writing. Workshops and critique groups have their place, but this isn’t that. I’m interested in exploring – and pushing past – the resistance we sometimes feel in even sitting down to write. How do I start? Or…I’m stuck. What can I do? We’ll try to answer those questions!
You know how classes are usually more interesting when the subject obviously touches the instructor, too? Well, I can tell you I proposed this class because it’s a topic very much alive for me. I’m fascinated by the feeling of wanting to write, but then finding every which way not to do it! I hope to create a space where participants can reconnect with the joy of creativity and get their pens flowing again. Perfect for that new year’s writing resolution!
4 Mondays (January 21, 28; February 4, 11) from 2 PM-4 PM. All the details and registration information over on the WICE website.
Hot on the heels of Halloween is another holiday American expats have to improvise over here. I like this celebrating of traditions in new ways.
I’ll be heading to a Thanksgiving “apero” on Friday (hey, it’s a cultural melange!), but in the meantime, here is an abbreviated gratitude list. I’ve been incorporating this practice of recognizing life’s bounty into my regular routine anyway; the holiday is just a more formalized chance to say thanks!
I’m thankful that my close friend came through his heart procedure successfully today. I’m thankful for my own open heart.
I’m thankful I can sit with uncertainty, though it can feel scary and hard.
“I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do,” artist Georgia O’Keeffe once said.
I’m thankful for inspiring quotes. Inspring stories. Inspiring people and lives.
I’m thankful for the proverbs on each sachet of Yogi tea.
I’m thankful for silly status updates from friends far and wide – though I really shouldn’t spend quite so much time online.
I am so relieved we’re not embroiled in some dramatic recount right now; it was one of my fears about the US presidential election.
But nope, the numbers were clear and told a good (in my opinion) story.
That being said, it’s not always healthy to track numbers obsessively. I learned that this past year as I was sending query letters to literary agents. I put on a brave face, but the process did get me down.
But I’m back up!
I have a guest post over on “Another Loose Sally,” the blog of the journal Hunger Mountain. In “Nixing the Numbers” I talk about losing then regaining sight of what’s really important in the world of writing. (Hint: it involves actually writing!)
If you’re interested in taking a peek, head on over here.
The sound of rain woke me before the light had come, but the day gave way to sunshine by afternoon. I stayed in bed late, then read, then rose. It was a tranquil beginning to my quietest birthday yet.
I usually plan a celebration of some sort – I love my birthday! – but this year I didn’t feel that’s what I wanted for some reason. It might have had something to do with the storm – seeing the damage it wrought across much of the Eastern seaboard, but most personally, of course to my beloved New York.
Maybe it had to do with my anxiety over the impending election, too. (Please vote!)
But today there was no sadness. I was happy to face the day on my own terms.
After my languid start, I went to the library to work for a few hours, as has become my habit. Some would say, rest! Don’t work on your birthday! But slowly getting back into a committed writing routine is the gift I’m giving myself.
Sion Dayson is paris (im)perfect. Writer, dreamer, I moved to France on – no exaggerating – a romantic whim. As you can imagine, a lot can go wrong (and very right!) with such a (non)plan. These are the (im)perfect stories that result.
In other fun news, I’ve been nominated for an 
December! How is it the last month of the year already? 
