This is going to be about synchronicity - those hints and signs, the mysterious repetitions, the unlooked for messages that sometimes pop up just to mirror our thoughts, desires, dreams. I can't say I'm very good in catching them all but this time I got it.
As each year, as each spring, with the first warm sun rays, I start thinking Provence. No surprise here. It's my personal, my very own heaven. My heart, my dream, my skin and my breath. My never experienced in full love, my never satisfied desire because I always want more of it. And as I was falling again in my Provencal dream, a friend of mine, who lives far from here and from Provence, sent me an e-mail telling me he fell in love with - attention! - Provence and he planted Provencal plants in his garden to remind him of the place. I thought "funny" and went on. On the next day, cleaning my closets (I'm moving), I found a book I had no idea I possessed - Vineyards of South France. Ta-daam. Today, I was driving when I heard this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZVWD8Iy09w .
I know for many the song has nothing to do with the place discussed but I'll tell you how I feel. I'm thinking... sun... an orange, huge, naked sun; impossibly intense blue sky; hot air burning my lungs while my bare feet walk the velvety surface of a grass so green that my eyes hurt; whispering sea down under the rocks, I can catch a glimpse from here; iron gate crying quietly when the steps approach; cedars glued in an eternal hug; shadows dancing under the crowns of centuries old trees, hiding my pebbled terrace from everyone; grey iron chairs, the paint flaking, the patina betraying the age; flowers, waterfalls of flowers flowing from the pots, touching the ground, spreading on the mossy stones... I'm thinking perfume and a white shirt under the trees... A hammock... A panama hat thrown carelessly in the stony fountain... Flowery skirt spread on the grass, a glass of wine spilled in the water, a cup with cherries and the juice on the white shirt... Were we lazy lovers? Did we miss something succumbing to the laziness of a heavy afternoon turning into purple dusk while the valley was shaking under the sounds of music and crowds were fighting to get a spot on a fashionable beach? I don't know. But I'd do it again, same way, same time, no second thoughts, no regrets. Lazy lovers is not that bad actually. Not in Provence of mine. :)
What I'm trying to say is: effort is not always necessary. Being active and proactive is not always best. In our world where everything seems to be so fast that we miss at least half of it, we must sometimes stop. Just halt. Breathe. Smell. Listen. Sense. Let it flow through you, feel it. The life. The love. The whatever makes you smile. Surrender to the timelessness because time was invented by us, humans, in a desperate attempt to categorize something that exists far beyond the limits of our imagination. There is no need to constantly pursue something. Love especially. Be lazy, love it. :)
P.S. Just opened the blog list to check the blogs I follow. Guess what was the first title I saw? "Sweet lovers". :o It's working, I'm telling you. :) We are more powerful than we realize. And I'm glad to know it. I'm actually so grateful to know it! Because it means my next vacation will be right there, above the sea, on the rocks, behind the iron gate. And my garden will be full of friends, flowers, kids, laughter, and who knows...
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