Eden

At times I feel myself thinking about my likeness to the proverbial tree in the forest, wondering if my life is really happening, if my experiences are true or valid if there is no-one significant to share them with.

Would one really fall, if no-one was around to witness the almighty thud?

If an act is unseen or unheard of, does it have an effect on the energy of the world, or even of oneself?

If everyone was doing the same thing, acting totally alone, would the tidal wave rise?

It is a pleasure and privilege to be able to get lost in a place and within your thoughts. But the danger lies when you are no longer certain when awe and splendour becomes romanticism, and romanticism then the fantasy of a rich imagination. But if you are alone anyway and the only ‘reality’ so to speak of is in fact only yours, can it not be made of anything?

Paris is a city easy to disappear in, especially if you do not speak the language, and I do not speak it well! It is vast, and hurried, and people tend to ignore each other blindly. In fact you can exist and contribute your part to society, without much being noticed in it at all.

I wonder if perhaps that is why I am drawn to here. As an addict of dreaming, and being places I can get lost in.

One place I got happily lost in recently, as a lover of romanticism, art, roses and secret gardens is the Musée Rodin, discovered by Rodin himself in 1908 when artists such as Matisse and Cocteau were living and working there. Situated in the 7^th arrondissement with a stunning view also of the Eiffel Tower one can splendour in the many sculpted works of Auguste Rodin scattered along the walks through this extensive garden in the grounds. The Thinker, my favourite next to the romantic embrace of The Kiss, is the central figure of the  garden, the symbolic figure of the artist. Walk past the Gates of Hell and it is an Eden in Paris. A spot for nostalgia and love affairs (on an off tourist day).

And in this secret garden I am drawn back to the memory of the novel, and one of my favourite passages from it as a child;

"One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever ... And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with the millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in someone's eyes."

I consider my existence as a proverbial tree, and also the importance of sharing experience. To just be there, like and love, be curious, but not judgemental. To think and embrace. It is the sharing of experiences that go on and on and on. And these experiences that stand forever for us to look at in gardens, that another person once considered or experienced as you do, likely also with the person standing next to you.

* This picture was taken in summer, and what flower is in bloom obviously depends on what time of year you visit. But honestly, visit any time, its worth it. *stock photo