A number of years ago, when I was a die-hard Manhattanite, thought of living no where else in the world, because, really, what did the rest of the world have that NYC couldn't provide in some way, Rudy Giuliani started a quality of life hotline. I believed in this hotline. At the time, I lived above a bar that, at ungodly hours of the late night and early morn, produced an insanely vocal group of patrons. Next to that institution, that makes up a wonderous part of my beloved new york city lifestyle, was a restaurant that, on occassion, caught on fire and damaged our building. Mind you, the restaurant didn't have a fire alarm belching out noise pollution, so, technically, they didn't fall under the kind of quality of life we New Yorkers were looking to improve on.
So, okay, I accepted it: This quality of life would do just fine.
Look at everything I was getting here!
Then I moved to San Francisco. A totally different quality of life, if you will. Not perfect, but breathable: lots and lots of trees and gardens and space to move around.
This, I accept, as well.
Look at everything I was getting here!
But, along with this acceptance of city life, comes a known quantity: You get a little bit numb to things. The morning I left for the South of France, a man shot himself. Minutes before I stepped into the shop directly across the street, this man stood in front of the police station and ended it all. The guy in the mobile phone shop pointed out his feet under the yellow blanket while a news reporter asked me what I'd seen.
But I hadn't seen a thing, until pointed out to me.
What had I just seen?
Enough, I thought to myself, because I'd got a little bit numb to things.
This reality doesn't totally sink in until I arrive in France and we begin to visit towns and homes that embody the phrase quality-of-life.
This, this, I could really accept.
Being on Nadette's lavender farm was by far the most obvious quality of life change I was ready to move into. Look at everything I was getting here!
Living simply, surrounded by the scent of calm, doing what you love, far, far, far from the maddening crowd, with a dog who's only stress is watching the lavender grow.
I envision myself waking up to the morning.
This morning.
The farmers market, back home, cutting fresh lavender, selling my homemade wares, making soap, inhaling the world around me.
6 comments:
this post made me weep.
the simplicity, the quiet pace. the longing for something different.
could be the jet lag but i don't think so.
Like Janine, Frank and Rudolpho...a singular gift... simple, joyful contentment...sigh
amen!
xo, meleen
Hi Molly, are you still in France? I have looking for you in the St Antonin market, but I go early as it is so crowded now. I hope you will stop by the house if you are still around. My sister was here for the last 2 weeks so I was not at home to much but I am there now. If you are already back home I hope you had a wonderful time! Sally
oh bliss. and how beautifully captured, too. stunning.
Total bliss! The farm defines goodness,, it gives me a feeling of hopefulness.
The earlier part of your post, the quality of life part, got me thinking. I'm in the city too, far from the goodness of the lavender farm. But there is a goodness that comes from the city, too, it's a completely different goodness, I think, and some days it's hard to find to goodness. But knowing that it is there, that's what keeps us here.
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