Experiments with the Truth or If walking feels too slow you are living too fast...

Ten years or so ago (who is counting anyway), when I was travelling in India , I got a tummy bug so bad, it was all I could do to hobble to the bathroom for the necessary, and to wobble out to the hall to pick up my plain rice and broth, all that I could stomach. Having been on the road for 8 months, staying at the most in one place for a week at a time, I was sick and tired of travelling.

I stayed holed up in that hotel room hiding and nursing myself better for more than a week. I could describe every feature of it in detail from the mustard colored carpet, the grey-white linen on the bed to the soft cool marble floor in the bath and the wet smell and sound of the never ceasing air conditioner, which I thanked my lucky stars for as it was as hot as hell. It was then, holed up in that hotel room hiding from India that I read all-in-one-go, Mahatma Gandhi's autobiography "My Story of Experiments with the Truth ", a dog eared and undoubtedly pirated copy bought from a dubious bookseller on a dusty street corner for a rupee or two.

One of the most important books I have ever read.

Gandhi presents us, by example of his daily existence, a conscious and thoughtful lifestyle that demonstrates the value of caring for ones self, by growing ones own food, weaving ones own cloth, cleaning ones own house, doing ones own laundry. A lawyer from a wealthy family living in a time where society dictated servants, Gandhi's communal and self sufficient existence sent out a clear and powerful message of change. I still remain impressed by the courage and strength of this singular man who succeeded by successfully challenging and changing the political status-quo with a massive peoples passive resistance, indeed his message is still with me.

The time and place and the powers at work reflected differently on his ideas then, than the things at work in our culture today, and but his ideas are no less relevant.

Does it seem to some of you in our day of the National Enquirer and Hollywood and Britney and consumer debt that some of us seem to be loosing our way? Floating soulless in the face of the fast material world, motivated to look outward towards images of increased social and financial status instead of inwards to our true value and sense of self? Gandhi's message of living thoughtfully and consciously, taking the time to pause for reflection and being self sufficient are all things that have always seemed to me to be things that restore our somewhat lost sense of self.

Slow down, take time to value yourself by caring for yourself and for others. What a simple and yet profoundly truthful message. Or is it?

So what is truth, is it fixed; or fluid and ever changing?
How does this or any truth connect with the context of daily reality?
Can we really have "Experiments with the Truth"?

It seems we have been having our own set of experiments in our household, as (anyone else?) seems when you are seven years old these things come into question, and it does take some thought and energy to figure out EXACTLY what the TRUTH really is.

Dear Son,

First....I wish you were old enough to read Gandhi.

I love you SO very much and I am watching you try to figure out how much to tell the truth and how much you can get away with 'fudge'. Even though you don't realize it you have a very odd expression in the very back of your eyes and around your mouth when you are "eating fudge'... so just like my Mom told me, and I will tell you, and you will tell your kids...here are some simple rules to help with the truth...

1)Your Mom always KNOWS when there is 'fudge' around...

2)Contrary to Gandhi the context of our family is not in flux and the TRUTH is not so very fluid.

3)The TRUTH is simply the truth, it IS ONLY ONE THING, it does not change depending on who is hearing it, and it certainly will not change no matter how much you want it to.

4)If you tell a lie you will get into double the trouble than if you tell us the truth.

5)When you ALWAYS tell the truth people feel like they can trust you, no one ever disbelieves you, you will be seen as a good honest person, someone to be relied upon... and that just feels good.

6)Telling the truth is simple, you will never get caught, and you never have to try to remember where you left the "fudge"....trust me it is much easier...

7)I will do the very best job I can to help you learn this very simple but ever so important TRUTH about life... because I love you...more than anything.

8)And because contrary to popular opinion...I REALLY don't like "fudge"...

Love you forever, Your Mom.

Trying to get a profile photo posted...

Happy Magpie

In my slightly obsessive (ask any one) quest to find antiques to drag home before we leave this place I can often be caught surfing the net for auctions that might yield fruit. My normal routine which includes checking the local “Emmaus”or “Troc 21” (somewhere between an antique and pawn shop) for finds has yielded antique bake ware, turn of the century furniture, art, books and textiles…

Let’s just say one (French)(wo)man's seemingly 150 year old junk is another (expat)(wo)man's treasure….

Though some days I feel a bit like a Magpie…

“Geee, (with slightly unbalanced gleam in the eye) That is a NICE shiny thing….“
“Hmmm….wouldn’t I love to take that NICE SHINY THING home with me…”
“Yeah, let me just tuck it under my wing like that….yeah….there….”

Last week after months of surfing the local sales (finally with enough French to understand) I discovered what seemed like a Pandora’s box of possibility, an estate sale in a small Village called Villiers Saint Benoist about 200 kms N/E of Dijon. Listed on the site were 5 armoires of varying design and age. (Perhaps “THE” armoire?? )

But....Could I pull it off??

FIRST-(FOREMOST)-Convince Bruce it is a good idea.
SECOND-Find a babysitter on short notice
THIRD- Rent a truck to bring home any sort of delightful (large) thing we might find.

Sunday morning found us at the Hertz rental depot picking up a cube van…(nothing like pulling up at an estate auction full of seasoned professional antique dealers with a rental cube van…)

Villiers Saint Beniost clung to the road side like grapes to a vine, the painted claims of long dead merchants peeling from crumbling buildings of half timber, brick and stone. After a quick quiche and a pastry run, while picking up on the gossip from the local pattissier, we wound our way to the chateau through a mossy hardwood forest.

There we found a romantic medieval cottage with its pigonnier, series of pruned hedgerows, gardens and a reflective reservoir stocked with fish for watering the garden. The cottage, rich with the resonance of inhabitants past stood sturdily over heavily beamed ceilings and massive hewn stone fireplaces. Invited inside by the auctioneer to “fait la tour” we glided over the patina of slipper polished tile to view its treasures.

Sort of like a 70's French film set, blustery red faced collectors, stylish jewelry types, well heeled bourgeouis and a few grand old dames , they were all there, plus of course the two amateurs with the Hertz truck.

Needless to say four hours later found the two tired but satisfied amateurs struggling to dismantle a very old and very dusty armoire…

Makes the Magpie happy…