May 26, 2017
We arrived at the medieval village of Saint-Pierre-Des-Champs in the south of France, 27 kilometers from the ancient town of Carcassone linking the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea, to celebrate a wedding anniversary at the twilight of a summer night. En route that sizzling summer day I held a silk fan in hand as my man drove us from Cannes to La Fargo, to an exquisite inn embodied as the intimate place of my dreamscape. The scent of a woman and a lust for life. As he deftly navigated our car through a stream splashed over rocks and encircled by the sweet fragrance of French Lavenders, I anticipated a luscious release from everything but love.
I thought I would let go the twenty years leading up to that summer night so that we might see one another as if, for the first time. A life of light and shadows is how I might have described our past. I have always lived my life releasing the past to create and allow the emergence of the present. Begin anew. I cannot think of a simpler mantra than one that is faithful to the clearing of underbrush from my imagined field of dreams. I really cannot take it all with me or view my world from the rear-view mirror.
A long-ago dream was the inspiration for a string of words held together by café lights that have guided my way since then: Wild Heart, Gypsy Soul. Let Us Dance In The Night Until The Morning Light. Though my dream, I would share its essence with him as my gift of love for our 20th-wedding anniversary. Ahead a new dream awaited its unveiling. The present known, the future cloaked in a mysterious unfolding.
"Say it’s only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea, but it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me…."
La Fargo in Saint-Pierre-Des-Champs was a place for bohemians, artists, writers and Dreamweavers. Seated outdoors that moonlit evening under a pergola resplendent with fig leaves in ripened bloom, I was happiness barely concealed in a gossamer spaghetti strap dress of spun gold. I heard the rustle of long skirts and observed the arrival of twenty gypsies, exquisite women dressed in dynamic colours, adorned with sparkling bangles to their elbows and their men whose damp, freshly washed hair rested gently on their shoulders. All moved with such grace and ease, as one steered two grey Whippets on long leashes towards the communal table reserved for their tribe. Theirs was a magnificent arrival, simply breathtaking. Stunningly beautiful. Where had these mystical figures alighted from? I imagined myself gliding towards the table with them!
We learned they were artists who lived in the hills of Saint-Pierre-Des-Champs and in neighbouring villages. We joined them at dinner. Of course we did, how could we not? We listened, absorbed by each word, intensely engaged in every moment, all the while breathing in the night air as if it were a delicate bouquet of a rarefied vintage. And when they stood to leave, I wanted to run away with these bohemian gypsies. I recognized my marvelous tribe and felt elated, assured I could...go home again.
It is said our vibe attracts our tribe and through the magic of the law of attraction in all its synchronicity, I glanced reflections of myself in twenty mirrors! I will remember this night for the rest of my life with an ancient knowing that wild hearts cannot be broken and that the soul of a gypsy is timeless. Life is but a dream. So in this fashion, I can always begin again with each dream, creating the life I wish to live each moment that my breath gives life to my spirit. Breathe in life and live an inspired dream.
"Yes, it's only a canvas sky, hanging over a muslin tree, but it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me...."
Note: "It's Only A Paper Moon" song written in 1933, music by Harold Allen, lyrics by Billy Rose.