Green Grass & Jet Lag
Just before leaving France last month I hurried around trying to get new glasses. My eyes had grown weary after writing a 200 page thesis on home . I wanted to benefit from my French Socialised healthcare before coming back to the unknowns of being an actual adult in the U.S. of A.
The word “adulting” came about when I moved to Paris four years ago and I laughed when friends would complain about “adulting” back home… Imagine adulting in a new language, huge new city, facing French Bureaucracy and visa paperwork! I was 22 and began the journey bright eyed and optimistic (a very American quality I’d soon learn). I was finally in Paris chasing my dream and creating art. I moved from California in January a few months after graduation. **Note for those thinking of moving to Paris: don’t move to Paris in winter**. I soon learned S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) was very much a real thing and faced the reality of rain, setting up a french bank account and being 5,500 miles away from family and all that was once familiar: homesick.
Now I’m back wearing my new glasses I got the week before leaving Paris while typing these words, tabs open with admin work and setting up life again in America. My fancy lunettes remind me of the very real experience of living abroad and making it home: we get a new set of eyes and begin to see the world differently. It’s a liminal experience when you get new vision. It can be lonely to see things others don’t. It’s like having two lives, one a dream and the other a reality no matter where in the world you are. I have learned much from living on the other side.
They say the grass is greener on the other side…
But I’d prefer a garden. A garden to sit and be present in, plant seeds and watch things grow.
The grass in California is golden but catches fire and has been in flames. La pelouse in Paris is perfection but usually off limits and a guard will come blow their whistle at you if you try to pique-nique in the Luxembourg gardens.
Here are some poems I’ve tapped out as I’ve been experiencing reverse culture shock, jet lag and transition. Poetry is a gift and tool to process the suitcases and strange existence of living on the edge: a liminal existence of learning to love. In my final weeks in France I mostly shot film photos… I just got the scans back and excited to be sharing more of the moments captured in light mixed in-between.
Where is your garden? How have you been experiencing cultural jet-lag in the current state of the world? How are you documenting the light in between?
double exposure of arrival
a dreamy frewell pique nique in parc montsouris with agapé art friends
dressing the Prada window display near Honor Coffee, Rue Saint Honoré
Provence in fields of lavender in July.
let’s keep planting seeds in the Garden God has planted us.
suitcases upon arrival
