Nothing is truly permanent.
Nothing is guaranteed. Not our own lives. Not those who are most dear to us, the center of our lives. Not our most treasured artifacts and buildings, no matter how large and impressive and imposing. Not our democracy. No matter how disconcerting it is to allow this notion into our brains, to really let it permeate our mental being – the truth is always there. We just need to allow ourselves to see it. And sometimes the truth is forced upon us. And we react with shock and sadness. But at the same time, it is the acknowledgment of that fact that can save us. It is having that truth set in front of our line of sight, whether willingly or not, that can allow us to truly internalize, and hopefully use productively, the central reality of our existence.
Paris has always played a special role in my life.
When I was 14 years old, between my freshman and sophomore year in high school, I somehow finagled my parents and a college summer study abroad program to let me join a bunch of 19-21 year-olds on their 6-week trip to France. It was the first time in my life I was really on my own – no rules, no parents – just learning French, making older friends, studying art and history, and having my first independent travel adventures. It was glorious. I saw and learned about Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the treasures of French museums, and the phonetic demands of the French language, and I was hooked. What a wonderful break it was from the academic rigors of my high school, and the endless daily schlepping on the subway!
I continued to study French in college, and studied abroad in Paris my junior year. There were ups and downs of course, but again, I just loved learning the language, wandering around the city, going to the Rodin museum and sketching the sculptures, and just pondering life, and history, and art. Back in the day when I had the time to ponder life, and history, and art.
After I graduated from law school, I took a long-discussed trip to Europe with my best friend from high school. First stop: Paris. Again, we visited all the sights, saw some new sights, and found our way back to the courtyard of my study abroad program in the Left Bank. It already seemed like such a distant memory at the time. After our jaunt through Europe, I continued on to Southeast Asia to meet a couple of law school friends in Vietnam. It was my first time truly out of my element, and while it was intimidating at times, it was such an amazing time, creating memories I have always treasured. The night we landed in Bali, we were strolling along the road in Kuta Beach and were approached by a frantic middle-aged British man (a geezer at the time, but probably about my age now) who asked if we were American and wanted to share some news with us. It was September 11, 2001. And when we were finally able to connect to the CNN website (in an “internet café” as those dinosaurs were called), we saw the truth for what it was. Our existence as we had known it, as we had understood it throughout our life up until that point, was over. Nothing would ever be the same. Those grand monuments to the skyline of New York were gone. Along with thousands of innocent lives, and our sense of safety and reality.
But life went on anyway.
We returned to New York. We returned to our new legal careers. And we moved forward. And over time, the acuteness of the realizations we felt on that day in Bali slowly wore away. After a few years, I met my husband and moved to London to be with him. During that time I returned to Paris – this time with my future spouse. We toured the city I loved once more, and then the next year we returned to Paris on a surprise trip, and he proposed to me.
A little before 10 am on the morning of the Notre Dame fire, I spoke to my mother on the phone. As I told her about the plans my husband and I were making to go to Vietnam with our children next winter, I explained my motivations for taking such a seemingly extravagant and involved trip with my young children. I had such an amazing time in Vietnam when I went there in my 20s. I had always dreamed of going back with my husband and the kids someday. And the world is such a crazy, chaotic, scary place these days. It seems that society and the world are shifting in ever-more dramatic and unpredictable ways.
- How long should I wait before I just take the plunge and book those tickets?
- Will the countries I’ve kept on my to-visit list definitely be there in their familiar form for my kids to visit in the coming decades?
- Will they be roiled by unexpected political turbulence?
- Will authoritarian regimes take over?
- Will climate change create social upheaval that renders these places unsafe?
I can’t answer those questions. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? So let’s get out there while the going is good.
Paris was also on my list of places to visit with the kids. They’re learning French now, and certainly aren’t dissuaded by the prospect of croissants, and macarons, and Berthillon ice cream. Sadly, it hadn’t occurred to me that one of the classic panoramas most central to that city could disappear overnight. But yet, while permanently altered, it hasn’t disappeared. Not entirely. The firefighters of Paris rallied to preserve whatever they could, and they saved the two iconic towers. There is already talk of rebuilding. There is already hope. There are already plans being made. Because the people of Paris, of France and of the world, had a vision of the world without Notre Dame thrust upon their consciousness. One of the things they thought they could always depend on being there showed them today that it is just as fragile and susceptible to destruction as everything else in this world. And they weren’t, they aren’t ready to let it go. So they will fight for it.
I hope we can all take that message to heart and fight for our most cherished institutions, knowing that they are not guaranteed, and knowing that they are worth the fight. We mustn’t take them for granted any longer. We need to act on our hopes and wishes for the future with an awareness that tomorrow – the next year – the next decade – may turn out differently than we ever expected or hoped. I will be booking those tickets to Vietnam as soon as possible.
—
It’s never too early to start talking about Father’s Day on The Good Men Project. We’re looking for sponsors and contributors for our #ModernDayDad campaign. https://t.co/WJvKqq2kTe pic.twitter.com/j66LNCY0VG
— The Good Men Project (@GoodMenProject) March 11, 2019
—
We celebrate Gay Pride all year long. But this year, we’re doing some special programing for a large-scale campaign #LoveEqually. We’re looking for both sponsors and contributors. Check it out! https://t.co/tkraXFPxLL pic.twitter.com/X2FlBEZb8Y
— The Good Men Project (@GoodMenProject) March 11, 2019
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join us as a Premium Member, today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all-access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class, and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group, and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.
Register New Account
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
◊♦◊
Get the best stories from The Good Men Project delivered straight to your inbox, here.
Image ID: 1380197783
The post The Emotionally Searing Experience of Notre Dame Burning appeared first on The Good Men Project.