Bathed in a Peculiar Light

Paris, the City of Light. Really? I didn't experience it that way, but it was gloomy and rainy the whole time I was there. It's not a bright shiny landscape in any kind of weather, though, and because most of the streets are narrow, it can be difficult to locate the sky. The light doesn't come from up there. It must come up from the landscape. What kind of light does the spiraling sandy basin generate? It's interesting to think about. That light has attracted a lot of artists over the centuries. What is that light? Do you know?

Whatever it is, I do feel bathed by the strange light of that ancient city. I feel scrubbed clean and full of light. It's bizarre. The city is grungy - like all huge cities. It's a magical paradox that I came out of the trip so clean and bright.

See what I mean about the light?

Initiation, soul retrieval, ancestor work, grieving for my aunt, also grieving a different time in my life and in the world, letting go. I've settled on these words to describe what my week in Paris was about. I did not need to enter any of the museums there. I was in the plein air Reya Museum all week. Whew.

The energy is beginning to settle. Every day I feel more normal, more like the me I remember from months ago, perhaps even since before my sixtieth birthday. I feel whole. It will take awhile before I have integrated what took place. Every day now I'm reminding myself to rest and breathe, to go about my rituals and routines, to trust that whatever happened to me will find a comfortable space within my body/mind.

I have a few words I'm happy with to explain what I experienced in Paris. I don't understand, but I am in a place of trust.

Shalom.