Some days I look forward to my trip to Paris with every ounce of my being. The city, the river, the parks and that big tower, you know - the food, wine, history - and especially the camaraderie of friends from DC who will also be there, and the company of a friend who lives in London, who is coming over for a day. What is not to love about it? It's a dream trip. I've been strongly called by Paris for more than two years.
Except, I fret about it, too. Because fretting comes naturally.
Also I wonder why I'm going, other than the have fun part of course. It's going to be a difficult week astrologically. Maybe it will be a great time to get the hell outta Dodge during the precise grand cross of April/May 2014. The week might turn out to be as much about leaving DC as it will be about going to Paris. Who knows?
I'm guessing the spiritual aspect of the trip will involve communing with my ancestors, in particular my Aunt Edie who lived in Paris from right after WWII until her death about ten years ago. Also, Paris is the City of Light. What do I always say? Let there be light. Hence I will take in the magical light. Is that a soul retrieval? I wonder.
There's something, too, about testing self confidence, a quality that my spirit and animal guides, particularly Grandfather Eagle, have encouraged me to develop for many years. Paris can be an intimidating city.
I want to be respectful even knowing that I will make many a cultural mistake. It's inevitable that I will laugh too loudly, or miss the cues of body language that would usually help me understand appropriate behavior. I will murder the French language, of course. My clothes, my manner - everything about me - could, conceivably, offend the delicate sensibilities of the Parisians. I understand! I have to contend with tourists all the time. I don't blame them for wanting to visit Washington DC, but dealing with them can be so annoying. It's very hard to share the nation's capital with the rest of the nation - the rest of the world, in fact.
I'm sure that sharing Paris with the world can't be a whole lot of fun either. Hence I'm trying to figure out what to wear, I'm practicing my French phrases and so forth.
I hope not to slink around in shame because I'm an American. I hope to stand up straight, walk tall, remember to be polite. This is the best I can do, and if I can do this, that would be nice.
This is the kind of thing I worry about at night. Silly Reya. Silly, silly Reya.