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The French Adventure.    War and Peace and Spiritual Renewal in France.

Franny and I are back from our French adventure.    We had a wonderful and deep meditation retreat near Limoges (with friends we know from around the world),  long drives though the rolling French countryside and rippling streams, stone bridges and towns and villages churches, the abbey/fortress island of Mt. St. Michael, the Bayeux tapestry on William the conqueror,  windsurfers at Omaha beach, the intensity of Paris and Mona Lisa’s smile, and home over Greenland.  Everywhere were symbols of our human search for happiness through the futility strife and war — and though the validity of peace and spirit.

THE HUMAN ADVENTURE.   One insightful and delightful philosophical view is that we are   essentially non-physical  spiritual beings who decided to have a physical human adventure on planet earth.  The adventure gets intense at age 4 to 10 as the power of language mesmerizes us into thinking we are physically and mentally separate from each other and spirit.  In our delusion of separation, we think we need to protect our little fearful egoic selves — to find safety and happiness in this physical world instead of remembering who we really are.  It’s a fruitless path of endless seeking, suffering, conflict and war.  True peace, happiness, joy, and clarity can only come from re-uniting with our true infinite spiritual self.  Then we really can enjoy our human adventure.

In 2013, our next step/retreat, called Scorpian Seal Assembly One, was only available in France – – expensive for us and physically challenging for Franny (who was close to needing a hip replacement).  But time for us is short, so we pinched our pennies, applied for scholarships, booked a flight, packed up Franny’s wheelchair, and …..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MATILDA, PARIS TRAFFIC, AND LIMOGES.     The next day, slightly groggy after 12 hours in the air, and after a couple of hours negotiating a mile of corridors, baggage control, customs, immigration, and the Europa car rental rituals,  we were finally in our VW Taiguan (big enough for wheelchair and luggage) trying to escape the immense Charles De Gaul airport with invaluable help of Matilda, our GPS navigator.

We were on our way to the Shambhala Buddhist retreat center of Dechen Choling, in a three century old country estate outside of Limoges — three hours south of Paris — if Matilda and I could successfully guide us thru dense Paris traffic and the 25 road changes to reach our hotel in Limoges.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DECHEN CHOLING.   Limoges is a pretty little city, famed for its cathedral, train station, and ceramics, but we were anxious to move on to Dechen Choling, arrange our room, and see our friends from around the world (like Ukraine, Slovakia, Germany, Holland, England, France, America, Mexico, Canada, Japan, Australia, and others). The center is a lovely old French country estate – stone buildings, green fields, and wandering streams.

 

 

For me, the trips  greatest pleasure was the journey Matilda took us on as we drove for six  hours across the French countryside from Limoges to the Normandy coast.  Sparkling streams under stone bridges,  roads curving around medieval houses and churches,  cows and pigs and peaceful old towns.  A rich feast of color and sounds and  smells.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEACE & WAR – MONT SAN MICHEL -THE ABBEY-FORTRESS. Then to the coast and  Mont San Michel – a fortress-abbey-church built on an island that was accessible only at low tide.  Towering stone walls, iron drop gates  and arrow slits that rained death on any attackers.  The tide goes out for miles — and incoming tidal rush has caught and drowned many unwary. There is a surreal beauty to the place that attracts filmmakers and ordinary people alike — wanting to connect to its  peace and power and mystery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEACEFUL NIGHT.   We were originally going to stay in a hotel in Mt. St. Michel, but I wisely changed it upon considering my challenge of  pushing Franny’s wheelchair up a steep narrow cobblestone alley, Franny’s extreme challenge in climbing up stone stairs to our room, and the outrageous  cost for  a 2nd class room.  We stayed that night at the lovely Aberage du Terrior in the tiny town of  Servon. The Aberage is a delightful old stone chateau overlooked by the village church.  It had been completely redone inside with modern German windows and bathroom.  The owner is a gourmet chef — and his wife served us mouth watering duckal’orangeon Waterford (not Limoges!) porcelain with white table cloths and crystal glasses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WAR – THE INVASION BY NORMANS – THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.   The next day, an hour’s drive north took us to the lovely city of Bayeux on the Normandy Coast.   Normans or “North-man” are descendants of the Vikings that invaded France in ancient times.  My own ancestors are descents of Vikings and the Scottish barbarians that terrified the Romans by stripping naked, painting themselves blue and running screaming at the enemy waving their swords and cudgels.  Such a rush!

Our human adventure seems to include the intense sense of aliveness we get courting danger.  I vividly remember body surfing a hurricane wave body screaming with joy and fear as I was bounced down it like a ping pong ball.   Or skiing “suicide hill” or walking on fire barefoot, — or jumping from an ……..

The 600 foot Bayeux tapestry depicts the invasion of England by the Norman duke William the Conqueror in 1066ad.  When Harold reneged on his oath to William and grabbed he English crown for himself,  William negotiated the pope’s approval, called  up an army for 5-10,000,  chopped down a forest to build a few hundred ships,  and won the war and crown of England with his skillful use of mounted knights and prayer.  Changed the course of English history.  It was all a great adventure – until you close in on the torn and broken limbs, the suffering faces, and the cries of bereft families.

WAR AND PEACE ON OMAHA BEACH.  Nine hundred years later,  on the beaches a few miles from where William set sail, our human war-games climaxed with the greatest invasion in history. Over a million men in a thousand ships stormed the Normandy coast as screaming bullets shredded bodies and turned the blue waters and the white beaches red with blood.

Franny took a nap while I drove the few miles from our pleasant inn to Omaha Beach.  Images of movies recreating men jumping out of amphibian craft into a buzzing maelstrom of bullets was in major contrast to this lovely warm beach with its gentle waves, strolling beach combers, and laughing windsurfers.   I could find no evidence of  the invasion until I drove behind the modern beach houses (well, no old stone  houses  is evidence in itself),  and up a hill to a small concrete pill box — about 15 feet across.  I imagined being a German soldier in that emplacement waiting for an invading American to toss a grenade into my concrete tomb. [Unlike our last trip, where I surfed in off Nova Scotia in the North Atlantic,  I only got to wade in the Atlantic here.]

That night we had great dinner in a quaint little beach town,  where a sunset illuminated the ghostly remains of one of the “instant” invasion harbors where endless tons of equipment was brought ashore to support the invasion.

 

 

Happy as a clam!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BACK TO PARIS.  WAR-PEACE-FOOD-PEOPLE-PRAYER-MONA LISA’S SMILE.

 Finally, we drove back to Paris to complete our circle of northern France — past the opulent  Versailles Palace where King Louis and Marie Antoinette were dragged from to be guillotined – – and past the Arch de Triumph where Napoleon armies and American tanks paraded in victory.

 

 

In Paris, as I dodged pedestrians and scooters — and wondered about climbing to a sixth floor walkup (no elevators in the 1800’s) — Matilda took us to the wrong Rue De Recollects – student housing,  not our hotel.  After much confusion, driving up and down, questioning in French and English and arm waving — a friendly student found the right address on her iPhone — and reprogrammed Matilda (who says the French aren’t friendly!).

 

 

Parisian peace.  The next day, Franny rested while I walked past rushing crowds to near the famed Notre Dam cathedral.  But is was the man in the church across the street that captured my imagination.  I hope that his God answered his prayers.

 

 

 

 

  That evening we had a tasty meal at a local students cafe in the famed Montmartre  surrounded by the steamy energy of modern students and the ghosts of Renoir, Degas, and Picasso.

 

 

 

 

 

  Our final day we braved the Louvre with all its incredible treasures — from the 4000 year old first legal Code of Hammurabi to the enigmatic smile of Mona Lisa.

 

 

And finally home,  to lead twenty meditators in our living room the next day, and to schedule Franny’s hip replacement operation for  the next week.    

And so, our human adventure continues.  Went surfing  last week here in the Pacific ocean at sunset (to complete  my urge to  surf the Atlantic on Omaha Beach).   Franny is recovery grandly — and I am learning (its a stretch) to be a caretaker with a smile.   Our  son Stephen sent me a picture of  our granddaughter Kennedy as she joyfully enters her human adventure.

With Love,  Carter and Franny