PARIS VOUS AIME: At home with myself

Madame St. Pierre was my French teacher at Bangor High School in 1985 and I may have had a crush on her. I learned to love Paris through her eyes, through her passion for all things Parisian.

I struggled to force my mouth into the proper embouchure to pronounce the words correctly in her class. Even though I didn’t quite achieve a respectable accent at the time, I cataloged the memory of her expertise for when I grew up. I still hear her playful lilt and bounce when I speak in this musical language.

Madame St. Pierre taught me about the Eiffel Tower, le Champs-Élysées, and l'Arc de Triomphe. She explained the difference between the right bank and the left of the Seine. She introduced me to the patriotic anthem La Marseilles and emphasized the significance of 14 juillet and la révolution. A Tale of Two Cities would later become my favorite classic literature indulgence.

She taught me about many beautiful aspects of Paris and the context of its development. She said after WWII, the culture of France shifted. War can harden some societies and distance people from the meaning of life and the search for light.

I’ve seen images of the museums and chateaux eerily empty in the 1900s. French citizens hid these treasures before the Nazis could confiscate their art and their artifacts. Madame taught me that French life, art, food, and patriotism became more precious after experiencing the scarcity of it.

She taught me that Parisians committed to celebrating all things beautiful and appreciating the art of living well. Fine art. Fine music. Fine food. Fine wine. Fine love. All the Beauty. C'est magnifique. Vraiment.

This is where I want to be at this stage of my life. I want to bring Paris home with me and carry it around when I return home to Maine. I vow to include my love of Paris in all social, political, familial, and spiritual interactions.

Paris isn’t my home. Our family story says we were kicked out of France for killing one of the king’s deer. Reportedly, we were sent to Canada as punishment. Oh Canada!

But I feel at home with myself in this City of Lights, which is the most valuable real estate of all.

The metamorphosis from anguish to joy cannot be summarized in one essay, but those who have gone through the transformation and come out the other side will understand.

I now know that life isn’t about working toward a future that is happy and free from struggle. In my old life, I was taught to set aside temporary pleasure for future reward. That, my friend, is not a thing.

Happily ever after is only true in fairytales and the sooner we learn that the magic of life is in the precious moments of intentional celebration, the sooner we can begin living and choosing love in all its forms.

Suddenly we become free to relax into situations that used to bring us stress and anxiety. My favorite refrain to friends who are running late is “No Worries, No Hurries.”

I’ve learned the difference between life-threatening and inconvenient. This has been enormously helpful because my body doesn’t know the difference if I operate in constant agitation and fear.

Let us bring it down a notch. Let us celebrate the hour of our deliberate pause by gathering with friends and chosen family. Let us toast to humanity and fall in love with this world.

Vive la France! And Vive la Vie! As Fiddler On the Roof reminds us: To life, to life, l'chaim.

Bienvenue.

Welcome home,

Chris

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