Right now, it’s like this

Right now is a time to be in-between places. Neither here nor there. We’re moving, but our new apartment won’t be available for some months. We’re flitting back and forth, between Paris and Montpellier, crashing with friends or staying in unremarkable Airbnbs, between appointments and chores. Oh and did I mention we’re moving via train? Trust me, it makes sense. Or it does on paper anyway, the actual schlepping notwithstanding.

Our Paris “roommate” Pat helping out for the haul to the bus like a champ!

We’re not seeing the sights, we’re just getting things done, living life as it were. Life mostly happens in the interstices between things at any rate, but we forget. We look forward to, celebrate, and remember the highlights, but the majority of living is perfectly ordinary. It’s a Buddhist practice to show up with your full attention for those not-special moments, to make the ordinary perfect. To give the daily dross the same consideration you would give to a Rothko painting. And sometimes, you find a street Rothko while you’re going somewhere.

I often take photos when we’re just standing around waiting for something, which I called truth in travel. You know, the boring parts. The frustrating parts. The on the way to someplace interesting parts. The what it’s really like parts.

We recently reconnected with an old friend after a couple of decades absence. He gave us the phrase “right now it’s like this.” Indeed friends, right now it’s like this.

Updating the French person on the street with a baguette for the Deliveroo age
Our diet has been awful, but not this bad
The hole-in-the-wall place we stopped for lunch.

We have another few months to swim in the in between. But right now is always just like this.

Cheers,

Maer

4 Comments

  1. Hi MnM! Great post as usual, those shots of the mundane are right up my old address as my mom would say. Love the hole in the wall and the arc of wall removal especially. Good reminders as always to see things as they are, “it is what it is”, everything can’t always be peak experience. Onward

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  2. I enjoyed hearing and seeing your quarter and the changes in the air. I admired the pictures, especially the baguette in the backpack. I would have been tempted to take a bite. The bread here in the amber waves is typical, not so spectacular. I like your line – the majority of living is perfectly ordinary. I will take that with me this week as I myself am learning to enjoy the white noise and the space between events.

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