Get out of your chair: 30 min of activity per day is not enough

30 Aug

The day I officiated my first wedding ceremony

29 Aug

This summer, I was spoiled by one of my favorite family in the world, the Stoloff family.

It started when Dawn, one of the 4 amazing Stoloff’s sisters made me ’official priest/rabbi’ of her wedding ceremony with Pierre in Cantal in June.

The wedding took place in the charming village of Chalinargues. It was 12 degres C° and I thought I was going to be hospitalized for severe rhinitis.

I had never officiated a wedding before but like any performance, I thought one can do anything with dedication and preparation. Inspired by Pierre and Dawn’s long-lasting love relationship, I had great fun doing it.

Even though I stood in front of a huge cow’s painting under the beautiful canapy, I believe the outfit made me credible for the role: the long Indian shawl, the white mao shirt, the haircut, the simplicity. I wanted to look like an approachable buddhist priest. At the end of the ceremony someone came up to me and asked ‘So, you are a female buddhist priest?’

I fell in love with the cows in Cantal, they are the most beautiful in France. PERIOD.

Being fed to Cantal and Saint Nectaire cheese for a few days will send any humans on cloud nine.

A month prior to the wedding, we rehearsed the ceremony over the phone and emails and the morning before the afternoon of the wedding. We did not improvised it all, we knew the different parts of the ceremony, roles, timing and speech order. The rest was unknown and we were going to ‘live up to the moment and go with it’.

I was a bit stressed because of an irrational fear of not being able to ‘manage’ the unknown. I had a skin flare-up before the ceremony and panicked. I reached for 2 glasses of red wine and Cantal cheese. It stopped. Natural medecine, baby.

       

Pierre’s poem made us all teary-eyed as did the sisters’ poem ’parceque c’est NOUS’ and Sacha’s reading, particularly poignant. I want to send a big special thanks to Gérard Farenc without which ‘parceque NOUS sommes’ would still be a mystery to us. Monsieur Farenc was my philosophy teacher at Lycée Lacroix Narbonne, a role model and an inspiration. Unlike many high school professors, he had the right balance of authority and friendliness with his students. He would play guitar during lunch break and tell us about jazz. And he was on facebook! I instantly reached out to him for poem suggestions. I shared a brief description of the couple I was going to marry and a day later, Monsieur Farenc sent me “Parce que NOUS sommes” from Rosalind Brackenbury. Dawn LOVED it. The sisters LOVED it. (see the poem in full french at the end of the post. Anyone motivated to translate into english?)

As it was a long poem, we divided it up so that each sisters would read 2 paragraphs in rotation.

I’m honored and proud to have officiated my first wedding for 2 marvelous friends, uber cool people and down-to-earth souls, Dawn and Pierre.

Mazel Tov my friends, que la vie vous lèche d’amour comme il le faut.

Think of something I can do that I do not know I can do and I’ll do it tomorrow.

And anyone getting married this week-end? Call me. I would love to serve you and officiate again.

Parce que nous sommes.


c’est d’une romancière  Rosalind Brackenbury, peu traduite en français, et connue surtout pour sa nouvelle “Becoming George Sand”. Le poème s’appelle ”Parce que NOUS sommes” (et c’est le “nous” qui est important…
Voici ce que cela donne :

Parce que nous sommes.

Je suis parce que nous ommes, créatures
aux cinq orteils, aux doigts élégants,
dont l’esprit fleurit comme du corail
et les rêves s’étendent sur la terre avant de s’enfuir.

Je suis parce que nous sommes, animaux
qui adorent se frotter, se lécher, se câliner,
se faire des papouilles, s’embrasser à pleine bouche,
laper le lait qui blanchit le minois de leurs petits
et l’eau scintillante des piscines,
cueillir la sueur qui perle au cou aimé et lisser
leur fourrure d’un coup de langue.

Je suis parce que nous aimons nager, dormir, manger,
nous étendre au soleil et marcher à l’ombre;
parce que nous sommes les poissons
qui sillonnent les eaux claires
ou dansent plus bas, là où l’océan touche
le fond et s’emplit d’obscurité.

Je suis grâce aux siècles de pensée,
aux siècles de rêves, à la poésie,
à l’herbe, à la musique, au maïs qui pousse,
grâce au vin tiré du raisin
et du pain tiré du blé.

Je suis grâce aux millions de mains,
grâce aux peintures rupestres,
à la ligne tracé sans remords,
bison sur les parois,
biche dans la clairière.

Je suis grâce aux étoiles filantes, aux pluies diluviennes,
aux bateaux qui prennent le large, aux empreintes de pas,
graâce aux hommes et aux femmes
qui s’envolent ensemble, qui se couchent
ensemble, et s’envolent, encore et encore;
grâce au père, à la mère, aux frères,
aux amants, aux enfants, à tous ceux qui
font l’amour; grâce aux peaux, aux yeux, aux mains
et aux mots; grâce aux liens qui nous unissent,
au souffle qui m’anime.

Je suis grâce au velours de la nuit,
au chirurgien qui m’a sauvée,
grâce à l’intelligence,
à la vigilance,
grâce à tous ceux
qui se sont aimés
depuis tout ce temps.
Et pour toujours. Je suis. Nous.

Monsieur Farenc me dit ‘Ce poème est une déclaration bouddhiste de “co-dépendance”. Il me semble parfaitement adapté pour des gens qui s’aiment et qui aiment’

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The French Month of August

4 Aug

You know August is in the air when you walk down the streets of Paris and many other French cities, and you see handwritten signs on the storefront informing about annual leave and summer holidays: many small and big businesses close down in August. 08 is a unique month. It’s Annual Leave.

  

The furniture boutique is ‘fermé pour congés annuels’ (annual leave), the paint shop will ‘open back on August 8th at 2.30 pm’ (and gives the address where to drop deliveries), the bar restaurant ‘les Puces is on vacations untill July 16th and will be delighted to have you back’. The sign I love the most says ‘We’re on our annual leave. Happy holidays’ I saw a heart-shaped decoration attached to the storefront sign. The annual leave message extends online as Smart Store’s homepage tell us about their holidays. You cannot escape the French month of August.

          

August is a very special, cherished and dreadfully awaited moment for the French. The British cannot live without Pounds, Guinness and Heinz beans, the French cannot live without vacations, non-pasteurized cheeses and baguettes.

I’m well aware that ’vacances à la Française’ triggers mixed feelings and reactions in the US: a concept that is intellectually impossible to grasp and seen as offensive (values, beliefs, sense of entitlement is challenged) OR not difficult to grasp at all and therefore hard to swallow (why can’t we have/do the same?).

I’ve compiled what I’ve heard on the ‘French Month of August’:

‘I envy the French. Their art de vivre. They take the time. You guys know how to live. You just got it’ This is always very flattering. These people are smart and they are my friends. Da!.

‘How does the economy work if all the people get 5 weeks vacations paid a year?  What usually comes next: ‘I’m clueless but it shows that the French are lazy’. I pull the bullets at this point, aka camembert and croissants.

*A classic one…‘France is a country where I would retire, but not work’ to which I usually reply: ’men, you do not know what you’re missing out on’

‘I mean, what’s wrong with the French? How do they dare do this? How can they close their businesses for 2 weeks, if not 3 weeks?  This last group of people feels deeply insulted, if not offended by vacations à la Française. Accustomed to get what they think they should get when they want (sense of entitlement), they found their beliefs and values challenged by les ’vacances à la Française’. They see ’vacations’ as an abnormality, a provocation, a non-sense typically French. Vacations are so anti-capitalism. Time off does not have a price. In the end, they may feel like they are being sent the ‘middle finger’. They shall not worry: storefront signs announcing summer holidays are inoffensive. No businesses or people killed because of storefront signs. Chief planning officer, Dan, sees storefront signs as a mark of politeness. Also a big, open invitation to cambrioleurs (burglars) who have been given the store owners’exact date of return.

Vacations reward a hard year of continuous labor, long commuting, long work hours, and traveling.

Forget work and performance. Remember stress-free society? Just do nothing. Let it go. Treat yourselves (with beer and crème brûlée, why not)

Think about the reasons why you love your favorite vacations. Let say you LOVE thanksgiving. It’s a month before Christmas, you know you’re going to have a couple of days off, spending time with family, friends and neighbors, organizing fun pumpkins’ carving contests, eating a delicious turkey meal. AND the icing on the cake: knowing that you do not have to buy a single presents, unlike Christmas, is a huge relief. Like thanksgiving in the US (or your favorite holiday), the month of August in France is a celebration. You would not trade it for anything else. Knowing that you do not have to work for a couple of weeks is a huge relief.

Vacations promise freedom, intense elation, exploration of new horizons, rejuvenation of your system. Going back to the essentials: friends, family, play, sports, relaxation…Vacations are a peaceful enclave, an escape from the modern world.

It would not be fair to say that all French people are on holidays in August. For instance, I’m working :) Some of my colleagues are too, preparing big meetings for September 1st, ‘la rentrée’ :) And anyway nowadays with our cell phones we are reachable 24/24.

So, if you visit Paris and many other cities in France in August and many stores are closed, do not be grumpy. Get over it. Embrace it. Celebrate the time off. Open a bottle of champagne!

  

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Mantra

2 Aug

Since I can’t sleep (thank you jet lag) and I am on the Internet, I thought I’d list a couple of thoughts that have definitely struk a chord with me over the years.

Non-exhaustive list and ongoing post. Here you go:

Escape mediocrity. My mentors in Chicago

We can agree to disagree. McRae

(My work is my contribution to the world) Be insane. The world is a small place for people who wants to see and think big ideas. Me

All I know is that I know nothing for it is to think that we know what we do not know. Tout ce que je sais c’est que je ne sais rien tandis que les autres croient savoir ce qu’ils ne savent pas. Socrates

If I were a painter, I would paint my reverie. And I could paint a memory (Norah Jones’ song)

Never let the urgent crowd out the important. Kelly Catlin Walker

Be so good they can’t ignore you. Jerry Dunn

Let’s give the historians something to write about. Propertius you were cocky and i like it.

Les voyages forment la jeunesse (Beaudelaire) et déforment les valises (Coluche)

One should dare to dream. Great men are those who have visions and dreams. Then, love is all you need to fulfill these dreams and keep them alive. Père Ceyrac that I had the chance to meet while living in India.

Qwhat??! (say it loud when you do not understand something) Eddie Izzard’s contraction of Quoi and What

Our endlessly repeated line is that details matter infinitely. Applicable to all aspects of my work and my life, I love this one.

What about you? I’m sure you have thoughts stuck in your mind for ever.

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8 hours in hell: the truth about economy class

28 Jul

I made it back safe to the land of croissants. After the Chicago holidays, my bank account is down -700 euros: I can’t prize myself that it is safe all the way. I’m a French frugal who cannot be frugal on vacations in America. I’m a French-American in debt right now.

Flying Scandinavian Airlines (SA) from Chicago to Copenhagen was a pleasant experience. While semi-listening to safety instructions (same old story, if something happens ‘up in the air’ I can die with Georges Clooney and that’s ok with me) my attention was captivated by a quirky announcement. The safety instructions’ TV demo concluded with the following statement: ‘people are requested not to sleep on the floor‘. Very amusing, is not it? Passengers attempting to sleep on the floor during take off, flying and landing? I can only imagine the awkwardness of the situation for crew members. When recruiting crew members, I hope airlines companies’ HR department go straight to the matter and ask the million dollar question: have you experienced passengers trying to sleeping on the floor? If yes, tell us more about how you handled the situation? A  marketer question would be: why do your consumers try to sleep on the floor?

We shall not be surprised for such borderline (desperate?) behaviors: the truth is, low-cost airfares have enabled us to travel more often, but the comfort of economy class remains poor and will remain poor for as long as more people like me will want to travel more at the lowest cost.

Low-cost flights make our wallets happier and our bodies sore for a couple of hours (if not days). This is not really a trade-off. It’s a no-choice option for now. In the future, let’s hope we’ll all become frequent travelers.

Personally, the more I travel long distance for my own leisure, the more I dream about flying first class. I can totally envision myself being able to fall asleep and sleep for 7 hours in comfortable first class. And I insist on the dimension ‘being able to fall asleep’ as a first step prior to full sleep. What happens in between falling asleep and full sleep is a story we can pretty much all relate to: in economy class, it takes up to 2 hours to figure out the best position in which to sleep. Many of us will surrender and take a sleeping aid. Or will go stand next to the space in front of the toilet. But now it’s crowded because this is the only place where economy class people can decently stretch out their legs. The best situation is when the passenger next to you becomes your BFF: time goes by rapidly and you forget where you are (for a little while). But I must admit that passing by first class before going into economy class is a painful moment which reminds me of the next 8 hours in hell. This feeling only fuels my desire for first class upgrade. Oh well. HOPE. That is what he said.

What really matters is not the size of the seat, the passenger next to you, the great movies’ selection or HOPE for first class status. What really matters was the amount of fun loving time I had in Chicago: it was 10 days in heaven minus 16 hours in hell (flying economy).

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Paris-Delhi-Bombay: tribute to Louis Malle

10 Jul

The Pompidou Center is presenting a major exhibition that explores Indian society through the eyes of 50 Indian and French artists. My trip to Pompidou was a great occasion to bring back my interest for India to full flame. It was also an unexpected opportunity to gain new insights on Louis Malle’s movie life and to learn about his documentary ’Calcutta’.

At the end of the exhibition, I wandered around the bookstore and stumbled upon Louis Malle’s travel diary, ‘l’Inde fantôme’.

I was 8 years old when I first saw Louis Malle’s movie ‘Au revoir les enfants’ which tells the story of his childhood during French occupation by the nazi and the arrest of his jewish friend by the French Gestapo. I remembered vividly the scene: we were watching the movie together with my parents in the living room, it was winter season, and I was trying not to burst into tears in front of them. In hindsight, I believe my parents were going through the same emotions. When I went back to my room, I let the tears out. From that day on, I have always been grateful to Louis Malle and this is my personal tribute to him: Louis Malle, wherever your soul rests on this planet, I want you to hear that you’ve brought to my attention the fickleness of life itself: that injustice could arbitrarily strike me and anyone I love, anytime, and while generosity and love would be precious forces in the face of hatred, there would be situations one would not be able to escape and control. I’m very lucky to have understood that lesson via your personal story; not having to experience the situation first-hand like you did while a kid, yet intrinsically able to empathize 110%.

 

22 years later, my love story with Louis Malle continues with l’Inde fantôme. Louis Malle headed to India with a 2 man crew at age 34. The journey lasted a little under four months, from January through May 1968. While going into this project, Malle had two literary models in mind:  le Journal de voyage en Italie de Montaigne et L’Afrique fantôme de Michel Leiris. The journey generated over 30 hours of footage, which was edited into seven segments of about 54 minutes each for television. For 4 months, the 3 men filmed everything they saw, everyone they met, keen observers.

For anyone interested in India, 1968, Louis Malle, and foreign cultures, get yourself Calcutta DVD and travel diary Phantom India. There is a wonderful correspondence between Louis Malle and Vijaya Mulay who personally facilitated Malle’s documentary project shot throughout India and defended him in the face of censorship.

Below the links to access all segments with english subtitles! :)

http://wn.com/louis_malle_phantom_india

Episode 1, “The Impossible Camera”

Episode 2, “Things Seen in Madras”

Episode 3, “The Indians and the Sacred”

Episode 4, “Dreams and Reality”

Episode 5, “A Look at the Castes”

Episode 6, “On the Fringes of Indian Society”

Episode 7, “Bombay: The Future India.”

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The Bean in Chicago; Leviathan in Paris

10 Jul

In Chicago,  there is ‘the Bean’, public art sculpture from Anish Kapoor that became one of the most popular attraction of the city.

In Paris, there was Leviathan, Kapoor’s temporary exhibit at Grand Palais. Kapoor said he wanted us to contemplate while inside and outside the violet rubber sculpture. So, I did listen to him.

The rubber sculpture was assembled in Italy, then transported to Paris and it took 2 hours to inflate the balloons from inside the Grand Palais. Leviathan occupies 45% of the total space of the Grand Palais and fills the nave of its three arms (see map below)

 

The inside and outside of Leviathan are two completly different realities.  First off when you get inside, it is hot as hell. it feels sticky and warm, a womb-like experience. It was dark because a big cloud was blocking sunlight. But all of a sudden, the natural  daylight came back and the reflection of Grand Palais ceiling light-filled the inside. I ticked. I stayed inside the nave, it felt magical, relaxing and hot, but this time the warmth was completely bearable…I had found my object of contemplation, a reason to stay inside a little longer. Thank you, Mister Kapoor. 

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