What a difference a city makes…
Paris had always been the ideal, the ultimate dream. While I did harbour a romanticised view of what life in Paris was going to be like, I knew I wasn’t going to be living in the 1920’s, rubbing shoulders with Piscassos and Hemingways. But I did think I would get a whiff of their modern day likeness; a taste of the bohemian spirit as it seeped out of the beer darkened woodwork of the Montmartre bars, and cobbled streets.
But as so happens with many realised fantasies it didn’t quite deliver. This got me thinking about the pressure we impose upon ourselves and our dreams. Our desires, once in our grasp must not only live up to, but exceed in our expectations otherwise we feel cheated, disappointed or worse, like a failure. But then, what is the alternative? To never dream? To never desire, hope or wish, to never excite ourselves over the multitude of possibilities in life, and in love?
What a fucking miserable existence. Sorry, but count me out. I am a self-certified day-dream believer. Like a tornado chaser, I get my kicks from running after that most beautiful of storms which we call life. It is menacing, frightening, totally unpredictable and often devastating. Yet it is fantastically awesome in the true meaning of the word, and it demands our respect for its almighty unstoppable and natural force. That is life. And I vow to always run towards the tornado. Not with wreckless abandon, but with just the right amount of caution. Well…most of the time.
A part of me does mourn the loss of my ideal. I no longer dream the same dream, and it was such a pretty dream. But then, I think that it’s okay. What makes our dreams and desires so intense is the element of the unknown. It is this aspects which can either spur us on, or render us immobile and fearful. We can never know it until we experienced it.
Some have said to me, “Shame Paris didn’t work out.” Or have asked me if I regret going there. But I can’t regret it, I don’t. If I had continued to put my energy, my wishful energy into an idea that wasn’t meant for me, then it would have been a waste. Like good old Tennyson said, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Living “the dream” helped me understand that my happiness lies elsewhere. Paris “not working out” led me to my happy place, or in fact, back to my happy place…Back to the loving arms of Sofia. More on that to follow 🙂