Today’s guest contributor is my 7 year-old niece Sylvie Rose. An aspiring writer, Sylvie likes soccer, Roblox, and fake nails.
One day I got to go to a cool movie with my parents. The movie was about a good tennis player named Serena. I like that she did really cool matches and won trophies. She made me think it was me!!!
Each of us has built a collection of seemingly small losses in the last few years—cancelled trips, lost time with family, missed events like graduations and weddings. The accumulation of these disappointments weighs heavy and cultivates disenfranchised grief. This type of grief is difficult to identify, and a lot of us feel guilty honoring it. When others have suffered more, what right do we have to mourn our more minor losses?
I believe it is essential to acknowledge disenfranchised grief, to speak it to someone with whom we feel safe, and then to find alternative ways to enact small joys. I’ve recently felt a diffused, latent grumpiness. I didn’t understand why my temper was short, and I didn’t know why I was feeling emotional. When I paused and went within, I realized that my quiet little griefs had brought on a palpable mood shift. The second I acknowledged my disenfranchised grief, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a bit. It’s okay to feel sad for the lost moments with loved ones and the vacations that never happened. As I let my grief evolve, I distract myself in lighthearted ways. The feelings of disappointment will diminish, and in the meantime, I counterbalance my grief with happy activities.
Memory Travel
With travel severely restricted and very stressful, I’ve mostly traveled through my past. The last two weeks, my 2015 trip to Italy’s Val d’Orcia has been on my mind. I’m reliving the early mornings on the deck, when the sun came up over the valley, the wild boars squealed, and the birds chirped. Day after day, I’ve been seeing the glorious Tuscan hills in my third eye and almost tasting the fruity olive oil we drizzled on our pasta. Rather than leave me with a sense of loss, my Italian reveries are fulfilling and hopeful.
Awaken the Senses
Throughout the pandemic, the kitchen has been my happy place. Meal preparation calls upon multiple senses. I see the bright produce I pull from the grocery shelves, touch the ingredients as I chop, smell the herbs as I rub them between my fingers, hear the vegetables sizzle in the olive oil, and taste the dish resulting from my labor. After tinkering with my winter minestrone soup, I am ready to share my recipe, found at the end of this post. Please make it your own! Dried beans are even more delicious than canned, and dried herbs can be used in a pinch. My winter minestrone will adjust to your whims, your pantry, and your senses.
Work It Out on the Mat
Sometimes the best way to deal with grief is through movement. This week, my yoga mat has been a place of respite. I admit I’m not pushing myself hard. My exercise is slow and intentional. In the weeks to come, I’ll be ready for more rigor. But for now, I just need to process loss and disappointment. I am learning that acknowledging my grief is uplifting.
Inspirations
We’re giving hugs again, gathering around tables with friends, and some people are even planning summer travels. We are “learning to human again.”
I purchased my little aloe plant in fall 2020, when COVID cases were on the rise in the U.S. Tending to my house plants distracted me from the scariness. Months later, I can’t help but smile every time this scrawny pandemic plant catches my eye. He is thriving but on his own terms. This aloe refuses to grow straight. I have gently tried to rectify this countless times. Quietly, yet firmly I have encouraged him to “Stand tall. Reach for the light.”
But this charming aloe is a pandemic plant. He is comfortable hanging over the edge of his terra cotta home. Good posture doesn’t matter to him. He languishes. He is twisted and a little gnarly. I have come to admire his commitment to growing crookedly.
I, too, have carved a twisty path in the last year. Though I have not lost any loved ones, I have dealt with disenfranchised grief—the unnamable sadness that accumulates with continued disappointment and “small” losses. Travel, weddings, family meals. I have felt guilty for feeling sad. What business do I have grieving when I’ve suffered so little compared to others?
As I “learn to human” again, I like to think that my aloe is “learning to plant” again. I have an affinity for his hunched nature. Standing tall is not necessarily easy. Getting out into the world after more than a year of isolation is odd. We are both off-kilter right now, but as the time is right, we are branching out.
Forsythias dotted my early pandemic walks. Against a still-grey landscape, the vibrant flowers announced spring. Hope was elusive as the coronavirus emerged, and seeing the forsythias in bloom gave me brief moments of respite.
One year later, it was jarring to see the lemony forsythia blooms peeking out once again. How had a year of sameness passed? Why was I feeling lackluster as the world awakened? The heightened panic of 2020 and 2021 had numbed me, and I’d been plodding along in a pandemic haze.
This spring, the forsythias were painfully and pleasantly piercing. The bright yellow shrubs shot me back to the scary days of last year, but they also brought optimism and a tiny bit of joy. Forsythias are harbingers of spring. Often the first flowers to bloom, they announce a new season. They instill anticipation. And, for me, they cultivate hope.
The word harbinger comes from the Old French word herbergier—to provide lodging for. If you’re a French speaker, think of the words auberge or hospice—spaces of protection and care. In English, the word harbor echoes the sentiment of shelter. Before this spring, I had never understood that a harbinger could serve as both herald and protector. This spring and last, fiery forsythia flowers anchored my outings. Never had I found so much solace in the landscape. Never had nature been so comforting to me.
In Kentucky, the forsythia shrubs have mostly turned green—already! Though spring colors are fleeting, the season’s marvels continue to serve as an escape from the traumas of late-stage pandemic life. The birdsong invigorates, and the dappled light inspires. The world is alive!
Inspriations
Could you ever imagine being able to circumnavigate the city of Paris much like the 16th century explorer Magellan circumnavigated the Earth? Back in the late 19th century, such a form of transportation was made possible through the construction of the Petite Ceinture during the era of the Second Empire in France. In English, it translates to “little belt”, a connotation which rather undersells the immense scope and importance that this railway network possessed.
Without it, the metro transportation system that serves millions of Parisians today may have never existed.
Throughout the 19th century, the Petite Ceinture provided a multitude of functions, whether it involved transporting capital, housing public transit, or even contributing to military defense by supplying goods to French soldiers. The 35-kilometer-long belt provided stops at 29 different stations and could complete a round trip in just under an hour and a half. The efficient layout of the tracks prevented interfering with traffic in the city, thus creating a separation between the urban and transportation industries of Paris.
Despite its closure to public transportation in the 1930s, some parts of the line continue to function today, whether it be near Victor Boulevard in the 15th arrondissement or the Porte de Clichy metro station in the 17th arrondissement. In addition, the northern section of the tracks are currently being used to transport trains between the major stations in North and East Paris. Only 21 kilometers of the Petite Ceinture remain, although traces of the railway are still present throughout different areas of Paris. If you adventure around Montrouge, for example, you may find yourself taking a stroll through the gardens when you discover air vents which used to belong to train tunnels. If you recall the name “Jardin de la dalle d’Ivry”, which translates to “Ivry slab garden”, you can probably guess that such places cover areas where the line used to run. In addition, tennis courts and housing projects make up a majority of the urbanisation projects that have taken place of the belt’s remains.
While the inevitable evolution of the metro system has overshadowed the legacy of the Petite Ceinture , there are still pieces of its history to be discovered throughout different areas of Paris. The railway network continues to leave its mark to this day, whether it be through old tracks or nature trails that take place on its former paths. One does not simply think of the Petite Ceinture as a more traditional mode of transportation without considering its layout as providing connectivity and cohesion to a city bounded by lights.
References
Bretelle, Bruno. «L’action d’une association : l’inventaire de la Petite Ceinture de Paris». Revue
d’histoire des chemins de fer , 40, 2009, pp. 91-107.
Enon, Claire. «La survie d’un délaissé urbain : la petite ceinture de Paris». Architecture,
aménagement de l’espace , 2017.
Photos
https://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petite_Ceinture#/media/Ficheiro:Paris_16e_Petite_Ceinture_prome
nade.jpg
Deep in the heart of Paris, under the Gare de l’Est exists a perfectly preserved relic from WWII. Tucked away behind a secret hatch on the platform rests a WWII bunker completely undisturbed by time and modernization. A set of tunnels was built under the train station to help transport luggage, but when the war began, it was transformed into a safe haven. The bunker was initially created by the French government but was unfinished before the German military took over France and occupied Paris in 1940. Both the French and German government had wanted to keep the trains at this station running because there are tracks that lead into Germany.
Within the solid concrete walls and armored door are the remains of equipment and furniture used during WWII as protection from a gas attack. Although, during WWII, gases were used less than during WWI and instead were replaced with air raid attacks. Historians do not believe the bunker could have survived an air raid attack, but thankfully these were not common in Paris. All of the machines and equipment are in perfect working condition and appear to be “new” from 1939.
As you first enter the double door that is armored against bullets and gas attacks, the cool 59°F air surrounds you. As you travel deeper into the bunker, you will find regulation rooms complete with desks and chairs, telephones, and timetables for 1930’s trains. There are not any food or dormitory spaces because the bunker was only meant to be utilized for 10 hours at a time. You can find control rooms and an engine room as well. There are a few bicycles connected to equipment, which were intended to be used to operate the air filtration system in the bunker if the electricity went out. Along the walls are some German inscriptions and bilingual plans, which is evidence of the German occupation and usage. Marie-Noëlle Polivo writes, « …chaque cheminot français avait derrière lui un homologue allemand. » In English, “[…each French railway worker had a German counterpart behind him.]”
While there were other bunkers under train stations throughout Paris, most have been destroyed and dismantled. SNCF, the French national railway company, has promised to preserve this bunker however, only opening it during Heritage days and for other important events. Only 10 people are allowed in the bunker at one time and tickets sell out within minutes every year, as only around 220 people can go down inside the bunker each year. The tour guides worked hard with SNCF during 2019 to create tours that allow people to explore the bunker with virtual reality headsets.
References
https://www.neverends.net/le-bunker-sous-la-gare-de-lest/#prettyPhoto
https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/wwii-bunker-under-gare-de-l-est
Today, Nicolas Flamel may be best known as the supposedly immortal philosopher who plays a key role in the Harry Potter franchise. In real life, his house at 51 rue de Montmorency – la maison de Nicolas Flamel – has gained an immortality of its own as the oldest still-standing house in Paris.
The façade of the building is made up of several doors and windows interspersed with beautifully carved columns. In 1407, when the house was first constructed, one would have been able to see a carving of Nicolas Flamel himself standing next to Jesus Christ. Today, this image has faded away. One can still see ornate images of saints and angels as well as the initials “N.F.”
As for why Nicolas Flamel built the house, the large Middle French inscription running the length of the building’s face provides an answer: We working men and women who live on the porch of this house constructed in the year of our lord 1407 are required by law to say each day one Our Father and one Hail Mary in prayer to our God whose grace pardons our trespasses. Deeply religious and with a bevy of wealth, Nicolas Flamel and his wife Pernelle constructed homes free for use by the city’s poor, with the only requirement being that these people pray to God each day.
The house has lived many lives in the centuries after. At the start of the 20th century, a restoration project was given blessing to repair the building and bring the surviving carvings on the outside walls back to life. The home was named a historical site in 1911. During World War 2, it briefly served as a brothel. In the 80s, it spent time as a disco. Today, one can visit the house of Nicolas Flamel for a delicious meal from the restaurant which operates out of its ground floor.
Beginning in the 17th century, rumors caused by faked manuscripts about Nicolas Flamel would give him a reputation as an alchemist who created the immortality-giving Elixir of Life and was able to create the philosopher’s stone which turns lead to gold. This is certainly the impression the great novelist Victor Hugo had of Flamel, as Hugo became convinced Flamel had visited him in a séance and described what life on Mercury looked like – he also incorporated the alchemist as a worldly detail in his monumental Notre Dame de Paris. This Flamel is unknowable and greedy, always lusting for more gold and more life, yet in the house of Nicolas Flamel, one sees a man of deep selflessness who found a better sort of immortality by reaching out and helping the poor of his city.
References
« La plus vieille maison de Paris » Paris ZigZag : n. pag. Web. 2 Mars 2020. https://www.pariszigzag.fr/secret/histoire–insolite–paris/la–plus–vieille–maison–de–paris
« Histoire de la plus vieille maison de Paris. » Vivre Paris 21 Février 2019 : n. pag. Web. 2 Mars 2020. https://vivreparis.fr/histoire-de-la-plus-vieille-maison-de-paris/
“Victor Huge and Nicolas Flamel.” Victor Hugo Central. n. pag. Web. 11 March 2020. http://www.gavroche.org/vhugo/flamel.shtml
Image Attribution
Guilhem Vellut from Paris, France / CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0). 11 March 2020. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Auberge_Nicolas_Flamel,_Paris_11_February_2017.jpg
Taking its name from the powerful Medici family of Florence, Italy, la fontaine Médicis is a hidden gem nestled in the popular Luxembourg gardens in Paris. Marie de Medici (1575 – 1642), who was the widow of King Henri IV of France, found herself weary of living in the Louvre after her husband’s death. She decided to have her own palace, Palais des Médicis, constructed (~1623 – 30) on the left bank of the Seine. Feeling nostalgic for the style of the Palazzo Pitti and Boboli Gardens in her hometown of Florence, she commissioned both her palace and its surrounding gardens to be modeled on this same Italian Renaissance style.
The Fontaine Médicis in her gardens was originally not a fountain but a grotto (a scenic natural or artificial cave, the latter often constructed as a decorative element for a garden), known as La grotte du Luxembourg. It was most likely the work of Tommaso Francini, who had previously built grottos for gardens in Florence, in Rome, and in France for Henry IV. Marie de Medici particularly adored La grotte de Buontalenti in the Boboli gardens, and so Francini took much of his inspiration from this style, with nymphs as a central feature of the grotto.
However, much of the original design has been changed or replaced in a number of reconstructions over the years. These include the change in form from grotto to fountain along with other modifications in 1799 by the celebrated Jean Chalgrin (1739 – 1811), architect of the Arc de Triomphe. The most notable changes took place later, between 1864 – 66, when the fountain was moved about 30 meters to its current location in the Luxembourg gardens due to the construction of la rue Médicis. There, the fountain was extensively rebuilt into the version we see today. This final construction was based on the designs of Alphonse de Gisors (1796 – 1861), with sculptures by Auguste Ottin (1811 – 90), and contains a number of decorative elements.
The Medici coat of arms is centered on the top exterior panel of the fountain. Other main features of the fountain 
include a central niche featuring Ottin’s statue of Acis holding Galatea, the two lying together under a rock on top of which is perched Polyphemus, ready to launch the stone fated to kill his rival*. The side niches are decorated with a statue of a faun (probably Pan) and a huntress (probably Diana). Because the fountain no longer had a “back” once it was moved to its current location, a large bas-relief by Achille Valois (1785 – 1862), featuring Leda with Jupiter transformed into a swan**, was moved from another salvaged fountain (originally at the intersection of the rue du Regard and the rue de Vaugirard) and placed on the new back wall for the Medici fountain.
Original viewers would have likely been familiar with these classical stories, given the revival of classical Roman and Greek myth during the Renaissance and the subsequent popularity of these themes in art and design.
Finally, Alphonse de Gisors also added the long water basin, extending approximately 50 meters from the fountain, and surrounded this basin with vases still in place today and in which are placed colorful flowers according to season. There are typically more Parisians than tourists who come to relax on the benches here. La Fontaine Médicis is a tranquil and beautiful place to sit quietly, listen to the soft babble of water, and find a bit of respite from the metropolitan pace of Paris.
*In Greek mythology, the Cyclops Polyphemus was deeply in love with Galatea, a sea nymph; however, she was in love with the young shepherd Acis, and the two used to mock Polyphemus’s songs of love for Galatea. This statue depicts the moment when Polyphemus catches the lovers sleeping on a hill, just before killing Acis by crushing him under a huge rock.
**Leda was the beautiful daughter of a king, and her beauty attracted Jupiter/Zeus. Because Leda had already just been married to another king, however, Jupiter/Zeus decided to turn himself into an alluring swan in order to seduce her.
References
“La Fontaine Médicis au Jardin du Luxembourg.” Paris 1900 l’art nouveau. pars. 1-2. www.paris1900.lartnouveau.com/paris06/jardin_du_luxembourg/la_fontaine_medicis.htm. 1 Mar. 2020.
“Le Jardin du Luxembourg: La Fontaine Médicis.” Sénat: un site au service des citoyens. p. 1; all pp. in “Pour aller plus loin.” www.senat.fr/visite/fontaine/index.html 29 Feb. 2020.
“Paris-Insolite: La Fontaine Médicis.” Un jour de plus à Paris. pars. 3-12. www.unjourdeplusaparis.com/paris-insolite/fontaine-medicis 1 Mar. 2020.
Images
Desmarais, Robert. Galatée et Acis.JPG. Photo prise à la Fontaine de Médicis, Paris, Created 1 August 2008. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10222872 Wikimedia CommonsRetrieved 11 March 2020.
“Paris-Insolite: La Fontaine Médicis.” Un jour de plus à Paris. www.unjourdeplusaparis.com/paris-insolite/fontaine-medicis Published with permission from the website. Two images retrieved 1 Mar. 2020.
The joy of the creative process, minute by minute, hour after hour, day by day, is the sublime path to true happiness. –George Lois
This blog went live three years ago today! I launched Creative Sanctuary well after peak blog craze with no desire to become an influencer and no intention to monetize this space. I had recently published my book and felt an intense need to step away from academic writing. It was time to channel some of my creative energy into brief, accessible passages about travel, tea culture, and cuisine. I admittedly post much less than I initially anticipated. In my ideal blog world, I would write every week. But given life’s pace, I am lucky to post once a month.
Blogging has been immensely satisfying. It allows me to continue practicing the craft of writing, my photography has improved, and I’ve done a tiny bit of coding. I seem to be finding my niche blogging on France as well as on personal, yet universal topics such as extreme rest.
Even when I don’t have time to blog, I’m always generating ideas. I’d love to write about my collection of vintage fashion prints, about ethereal Korean green teas, and I have so much more to share about Versailles! As I hoped, Creative Sanctuary has become one of my “creative sanctuaries.” Working on this blog is consistently joyful.
Creative Sanctuary has featured the work of young creatives, including the lettering of the fabulous Olivia Murrell. Over the next month, I will publish the work of fourteen students from my spring 2020 course Unlocking Paris. Their bright pieces will bring Paris to us at a time when the City of Lights remains largely inaccessible. Moving forward, my blog will continue to explore creative life in its many forms.
Like many of you, I am beginning my sixth week of extreme social distancing. My work life, social life, and family life have all moved online. I am very happy to maintain my connections with students, friends and family. My advanced literature course has turned into a fabulous Zoom book club discussing Zola’s Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris). And raucous family happy hours (“cocktail hour” as Mom calls it) launch me into each weekend.
Yet in spite of the abundance of positive and supportive interactions, I’ve had to find ways to keep my pandemic anxiety at bay. I’m coming to understand that when daily existence is dramatically different from anything we’ve previously known, we must call on our own spiritual or philosophical foundations and tap into our personal strength as a means to soothe ourselves. I expect that you each practice your own calming rituals. Today I share a few of mine, as a few of you may want to adopt and adapt one of these practices.
Long Walks and Audio Books
Reading has always been my balm, but with a heavier work load, expanded screen time, and physical stagnation, I’ve found it very difficult to settle down with a book. Audio books have rescued me! Every day that it doesn’t rain, I walk for an hour and listen to an audiobook, borrowed from my public library. All of my pandemic reading has been escapist: The Most Fun We Ever Had (Claire Lombardo), The Burning Chambers (Kate Mosse), and A Long Petal of the Sea (Isabel Allende). A family drama, an historical novel set in Toulouse, and the great Chilean author’s most recent novel. Each and every one has been a joyful, intriguing read.
No Waste Kitchen
My grandma always said that cooking was her therapy. It’s my therapy too, but I’ve had to change my approach during the pandemic. I can’t pop out to the grocery store on a whim like I used to. I must work with what I have on hand, and I have become very strict about waste in my kitchen. No parsley stem goes unused. Each and every knob of ginger gets worked into a dish, and I constantly strategize about how I can best use freezer space. Some of my meals have been deliciously memorable. A few have flopped. But each and every day, the process has been grounding.
Reading with Nora
Before the coronavirus, I had never taught small children. But when I learned that my six year-old niece Nora wouldn’t be in school for the foreseeable future, my duty as aunt and educator inspired me to step into the role of first grade reading teacher. Every morning at 11:00 Nora FaceTimes me, and we spend 30-40 minutes working on reading and writing. We’ve found a pleasant, loose rhythm in our class. We take turns reading to each other from the Scholastic Learn at Home program, and then we move to a more advanced Beverley Clearly book: Beezus and Ramona. Nora reads most of the dialogue, which is challenging without becoming frustrating. And I read the rest. Some days she is enthralled! I’ve learned to be flexible in my pedagogy. Some days she just wants to tell me about walking in the woods with her dad or building a snowman. Other days, writing and drawing take precedent over reading. A few days ago, she wanted to make a prank phone call to Uncle Jack, so we did. For me, the priority is keeping everything fun and wrapping up the lesson when I see Nora’s attention lagging. The regularity and lightness of our class has been stabilizing for me. Although I have always felt that I know Nora well, I am getting to know her better each week. Not just as an aunt, but as a first-grade reading teacher and as a confidant.
Tea. Always Tea.
I have long been a devoted tea drinker. My favorite tea shop is still shipping and offering curbside pickup, so my tea cupboard is staying stocked. I have also used long days at home to dig deep into my tea collection. I’ve pulled out rare oolongs that need multiple steepings to bring out their nuances; I’ve dug into samples that tea friends have gifted me in the last few years; this afternoon I sipped a wild Pu-erh from my friend Nana Ding’s Strasbourg shop. The ritual of preparing tea is soothing in itself, but scientific research is beginning to demonstrate the health benefits of tea that come from caffeine, EGCG, and L-theanine.
How are you self-soothing these days?