Courage and Croissants

Courage and Croissants: Inspiring Joyful Living; By Suzanne Saxe-Roux and Jean Roux
(© 2010 St Rémy Press)

Today I look at a book that touts itself as "inspiring joyful living". This is the first book of 2011 for my book club and we thought we would start the year off on a positive note. While it sounded good from the back page description and had some glowing reviews, I knew I would have to make my own opinions. So I cracked the spine on this "story and life guidebook", as the subtitle suggests, and dug in to see what was on offer.

As you may have already guessed, this book is a memoir. It opens with an explanation of how to use the book. It is divided up into essentially two parts; the first being an account of their lives, the second a guidebook on how to improve your own life. I chose to read the book from front to back, so started in with a poem (of which I have a weakness for) and then was introduced to Suzanne and Jean. They chose to have inspirational quotes quotes start each chapter, and I myself like the touch. Before I even begin to read, I am taken to a positive place where I can find a touchstone of truth that relates to life. It is a gentle nudge to be kind to self and I think many need that nudge on occasion. 

After a brief prologue, where we are given quick contrasting images of Suzanne and Jean's life now and two years prior, the story begins. We are walked through a common tale of young love, where two people meet, fall in love, and make a life together. In their youth, they have great aspirations to do big and wonderful things, and their lives are fairly simple. Life is good.

As time marches on, Suzanne and Jean find success in their chosen paths and glory in all that life offers them, until one day they realize that they forgot something; children. The biological clock ticks loud as their forties begin. Always ready for a new hurdle, they decide to take a stab at raising a family as well, only to find that the prospect of getting pregnant is not as easy as they would like. A miscarriage shakes their world, followed by severe illness and death amongst their family and peers. Struggling to find a foothold amongst these emotional battles, while both working at extremely demanding jobs, starts to take its toll on them both. Desperate to find stability and happiness again, they let go of their dream to have a child, only to find themselves pregnant several months later, with Suzanne at the age of 45. Her age and other factors throw the pregnancy into the category of high-risk though, so stress continues to mount. At the same time, Suzanne's business partner, also her best friend, is rapidly deteriorating  from a battle with cancer. The death of her beloved friend is followed closely by the premature birth of their daughter.

These factors are the beginning signs that life is running away from Suzanne and Jean. With no time to schedule in meals, quality time with their daughter, or themselves, life becomes a rat race that quickly loses its joy. Never fear though, as the bleak picture that is painted in the early chapters of the book only serve as example of how anyone's life can spin out of control. Suzanne's goal in the writing of this book is to inspire you, the reader, to take stock of your own life and recognize what is not working. Her and Jean realize that they are no longer happy on their life paths and take steps to make life better. In a daring move, they sell Suzanne's business and move to France for a year. The plan; to slow down and experience all that life has to offer by way of travel, making time for themselves as individuals and as a family, and pursuing their own personal interests, such as painting and pottery. 

The book continues to highlight the process that Suzanne and Jean go through in order to reconnect with themselves and life as a whole. They explore fresh and local produce, Suzanne challenges herself to learn a language through immersion in France, and they truly take time to stop and smell the roses and baguettes along the way. She notes that obviously it is not possible for everyone to jet off to another country to find themselves, but that everyone has a way to create their own version of what life should look like. This includes taking time to eat a meal with your family at least once a week, if not daily, exploring a hobby that you have always had interest in, but never the courage to pursue, or even getting out of your daily routine, by taking a picnic to a new park where you can enjoy the fresh air and maybe the opportunity to paint a picture en plein air. With quotes and excerpts from her life journey, she encourages us all to find joy in all that life has to offer, and I cannot fault her for that in the least. 

I found Suzanne's exploration of life with fresh eyes, a simple and pleasant read. She is like so many, caught up in the fast-paced world and not recognizing that there is more to life than the bigger house, car or paycheck. Allowing herself to let go of all of her pre-conceived notions of the American Dream is a challenge to her, but what about the average person? I like to think we are in touch with ourselves, but alas that is not always the case I suppose.

The last section of the book offers some simple tips on how to make changes in your own life. I have to admit that I liked this section of the book less, as it came off slightly preachy. Some people appreciate clearly outlined steps though and I value what she is attempting. I prefer her "show; don't tell" method that is illustrated earlier in the book, but that is the writer in me griping I fear. The book does leave you with a positive feel though and I enjoyed the read. We shall see what the other ladies in my book club have to say when next we meet, but as for you, you have to form your own opinion. In the meantime, why not stop, pour yourself a glass of wine, open up a good book or blow the dust off your old paint set. Life is worth living, so why not start now...

Journalling

Journals have always been a part of my life. They have been a friend, space for thoughts and poems, testing ground for new ideas, as well as the interminable lists that reign my life as of late. I still have several that I kept from back in high school and have three actively on the go at present. One lives on my beside table, the other journeys with me in the car, keeping me company in coffee shops and while waiting for appointments. The last is more for work, where I hastily jot down ideas that are suggested for new directions of projects by my "Boss Lady". She is a phenomenal whirlwind of ideas and I have to desperately catch the thoughts that spring from her like a fountain. I listen, understand, but without some kind of notes, am hard pressed to have all the fine details later when I need to plug away at something in the comfort of my own home. That journal should be a tome, but unfortunately always seems to be lacking that tiny sprig of information that I need right NOW.

Journals have helped pave the way to my African stories that I share here with you lovely people, as well. I brought home three journals from my trip and they help to feed details into the story that I am breathing to life. Without my journals, I would have lost little details that bring my journey back fresh as day for me, and subsequently you. My scribbles are priceless to me.

Journals have also soaked up many, many tears through the years of my husband's illness and beyond. Grief filled pages as the only outlet that I could turn to where I was safe. Of course, that isn't completely true, but in the depths of my sorrows I felt vastly small and alone. Getting all of the hard and poisonous thoughts out of my head and onto paper helped me to see them, understand them better and in many cases, let them go. Those journals will travel with me, bringing me insight and reminding me of the long road I have travelled in darker days. That road is life and it continues still, but new journals have taken their place.

While I now often find myself at the computer writing poetry and prose, I still value my journals. In the pages of my journals, I can be kind or cruel to me, as the season fits. I am not perfect, and am often my worst critic, but in releasing this to a journal, I sometimes find release to myself. Stepping back onto the yoga mat this morning reminded me that I need to be kind to myself and make time for me. Allowing myself space to breathe, and also write, is key to my survival. I am flesh and blood, and my pen bleeds emotions over the page. I need this. It balances me.

Today's journal entry looked back at grief. Over breakfast my 5 year-old declared that losing a partner was worse than losing a child. She noted that losing a partner meant that the remaining parent had to do everything themselves, like taking out the garbage, making meals (with a little help from the kids once in a while), and everything. Her statement is absolutely right and she knows it from watching me day in and day out, but I gently reminded her that losing a child was equally devastating. I reminded her of my aunt who lost a daughter and how she might be able to rhyme off several reasons why that was worse. A child represents the future and the best of you, but I don't need to go into that further here. Everyone's grief is different, none better or worse than another. I will just say, that the fact that she is processing this aspect of grief makes me sad, and makes me wonder if she feels like a burden tied around my neck. I don't really think so, but the thought crossed my mind. She is such a serious child. She reminds me so much of myself. Trying to fill the role of little mother, when she/I knew that the need was there. Doing the utmost to make me happy and proud (in hopes of staving off those tears that reigned for so long?). Her view of the world through my grief was probably worse than losing her father at the time. She lost him physically, but her remaining parent swirled out of control on a wave of never-ending tears. Any time a tear comes to my eye or slides down my check now, she questions why and what it is for. Both my girls do. That is my reality though.

So, what is the point today? Do you journal? Do you have thoughts in your head that swirl around making you crazy, sad, confused or numb? Don't we all at some point or another? My journal, while sometimes waxing and waning, has been my best friend, companion and lifeline for as long as I can remember. It does not critique your grammar, spelling or punctuation. It takes your thoughts without judgement and allows you them. If you are ever in a difficult spot in your life, give it a try sometime. You don't have to keep it forever or even for the day. A napkin can act as journal space to help you unjumble thoughts, and then be tossed in the refuse after you are done with it. No one is the wiser, but you. Some day, it might even save your life. Try it, you might find you like it. It is all about you...

The Writer

Ahem...

I have a new title. "Business Manager"; that's what I am. It sounds so officious. I could write up business cards, if i so desired. I really am tickled. This is another step on the path towards me.

I need to take this seriously, and indeed I am. My new office space is my promise to myself. My little corner of the living room is my way of saying that I "am" a writer. This is a valid path for me right now and I am okay with that. More than OK, I am truly ecstatic to be allowing myself to fill these shoes. I think a piece of me has always imagined that this could be a reality for me, but now I am letting it happen. I sit at my new desk every day. I have been typing and tapping into my laptop for a long time now, but it is finally coming together. It really is.

I still cannot claim much in the published world, but letting myself fill this space is a pretty special venture. For so long, I did not feel like I could truly validate my little attempts at creativity. I felt like I needed to stop and get on  with the business of real life, GET A REAL JOB! The world has given me several positive nods though and now I am at the point where I am willing to give myself that nod as well. 

So how is it that I define myself as a writer? Well, I plug away at my two books fairly often and finished tinkering with my poetry chapbook. Most of you will not see the chapbook, as it is just a compilation of poetry that I made for my book club, but it was a challenging and fun project for me. I think I can consider it testing ground for when my other books are ready for some unknown publisher's eyes, but I cannot wait to have my little creation in my hand just to say that I brought this little thing into existence.

While my plugging away at my unpaid labour is all very valiant, it does not pay the bills at present. That brings me back to my new title of Business Manager. It makes me smile just saying it. And it really is a real title too, although applied in a very friendly way. I manage all the admin details of a Blog Talk Radio show. A friend of mine interviews authors and I have now officially taken over all of the admin work for the show. It isn't glamorous, but it does bring some money in, which in turn allows me to stay home and plug away at my books. There are other social media projects that I handle for the same woman and again, they are not glamorous, but they buy groceries. 

So with the help of friends this evening, some shelves were hung and my new office space is coming on to complete. I popped an English language dictionary on the shelf and balanced it with a plant in the other corner. As is my wont, some rocks or crystals will be added, as well as some other books. I think my little corner is just beautiful though. It is my step in believing in me and the future. The future is in my hands. I write my story and today it is filled with heart.

Haiku

empty page sits

no words from a full heart

scribbled pages on floor

To Arnie

Arnie

1972 VW Kombi Van

January 8^th, 1995 - April 13^th, 1996

He served us well

and always came through

in times of need

∞

·         left Cape Town Jan 15/95

·         filled up at 31 km

·         discovered gas leak, speedo stopped at 81 km

·         got bolt stuck in tire – R10 fix

·         lost starter motor between Durban and Swaziland (near False Bay)

o   later to discover that it was the ignition that was giving us grief all along

·         gashed hole in exhaust in Mozambique between Vilanculos and Beira (see “The Worst Road in Africa”)

o   muffler sealant applied later in Masvingo with little effect

·         various scratches from several game parks

·         some new rust from ocean-side  journeys (and a distinct lack of washing)

·         door slider started to go around Hwange (an up-front and personal account of the ramifications at “Happy Tourists”)

·         losing power on the way to Hwange; revving high, popping out of first gear

o   equated to tempers running high and popping for the occupants of Arnie as well

·         Survived it all!

·         chugged into Pietersburg

·         sold Arnie April 13^th, 1996

That was our Arnie, just a little more faded and worn around the edges

* Picture courtesy of  Michael at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ifhp97/4755649237/in/set-72157624314943542/