It’s nearly been a whole month since I came back from Paris.

Since that time I’ve a little like Alice, swirling in her rabbit hole, spinning and toppling and falling into step with life.

Travelling to new places does that, doesn’t it?

You lock your door and pick up your bags as one person.

A few days, week or months you return and find that you have changed. The atmosphere inside your skeletal structure has shifted.

You are different.

Evolved.

Returning home, your old life has to suddenly catch up and grab onto the back of your skirts

(if it means to come with you on your great, epic adventure of growth and gorgeousness)

but sometimes it takes a while for you all to fall into step with each other again.

Well. February has been all about falling into step and in the last week or so, as the mornings are suddenly lighter and the daffodils have started splashing news of spring over every bank and verge, I’ve begun to get to grips with the new dance.

So, what on earth happened in Paris to trip me into such a rabbit hole?

What weird spell did the City Of Love cast?

Like all good magic, the enchantment began way before it’s electrical crescendo.

Quietly it crept onto the train to Paris and curled around our ankles, unnoticed, as we emerged from the underground in the rain and sleet of the Notre Dame Cathedral.

With rain biting our hands and cheeks, we hailed a taxi and clamoured in.

The magic watched us as we goggled the streets; the golden patisseries and florists that beckoned us with vines and leaves into earthy grottos that whispered more of fairyland than Paris.

 With each street we turned down, the unseen magic at our ankles coiled further up our calves and by the time we’d entered the Hotel Bellechase, we’d slipped into its glamour without even knowing it!

Hotel Le Bellechase Saint Germain is a feast of illustrative gorgeousness.

Outfitted by the famous fashion designer Christian Lacroix, every wall that wasn’t mirrored and lit in lime or purple, was festooned with butterflies, flowers, peace trees and aristocratic figures from the 19th century.

From the main reception a flight of steps led down to a theatre set dining room where giant fish flickered across the ceiling and jungle birds perched on telegraph wires stretched between treble clefs and clock faces.

The hotel was located on a little street that backed the Musee d’Orsay and from there was the river, across the river was the Lourve and fifteen minutes down river, the Eiffel Tower.

On our first evening sojourn, it became clear that certain secret societies had already tried to claim the magic of this spot. Everywhere, esoteric structures and symbolism were glaringly apparent.

Slap bang in the middle of Place De La Concorde rose a 75 foot Egyptian obelisk, engraved with hieroglyphs. During the 19th century, three obelisks had been taken from Egypt. One was erected in London and its twin in New York. The other, that had been one of two from the Luxor Pyramid in Egypt, was erected here in Paris. Next to the obelisk was a pyramid structure that lacked its cap stone although I could find nothing about that online (as if it “virtually” didn’t exist),  it was similar to the upright and inverted pyramids that have been created at the entrance to the Lourve.

Whilst I couldn’t help but notice the masonic butterfly nets on every corner, I was still quite oblivious to my own spell that was working its way up from my ankles to my midriff.

For the next day or so we did beautiful, romantic, couple-ish things.

We wrote our names on a padlock, clinked them onto the “Love Lock” bridge and threw the key into the water.

We spent hours in the Musee d’Orsay and basked in the atmosphere of extreme craftsmanship and concentrated creativity.

I stood in front the art I loved and embodied a powerful prayer to the Creative Spirit that I might absorb the colours of the artists into the cells of my soul and then bleed these colours like gouache back into my life and loves.

We

literally

ate creativity

on a plate.

And we washed it all down

with a drink.

Or two.

We visited the Eiffel Tower twice at night and once by day.

It was stunningly awesome.

So were the postions people were pulling in order to shoot selfies from the ground up.

On our final full day – the day before Valentines – we visited the Lourve.

I found it intense and quite draining, if I’m honest.

There were so many people and I felt farmed and funnelled through routes that I didn’t want to walk.

Mostly we were pulled to look at the Egyptian relics.

And then, somewhere between looking at them and leaving via the massive pyramid entrance/exit,

the magic decided to make itself known.

Look! This is me going into the Lourve. Perfectly happy. See?

There aren’t any more photos of me for the rest of our time in Paris.

Something tweaked me out as I was leaving the Lourve.

In essence,

I.

Was.

Not.

A.

Happy.

Sausage.

I was fuming as we exited the gallery/museum.

I was bubbling like a cauldron as we juddered and swished back through the underground to Le Bellechase Saint-Germain.

And the moment I got into the hotel room and closed the door, I unravelled.

It turns out that magic can manifest in all sorts of ways … and sometimes the best stuff occurs during an unravelling.

It was one of those unravellings which (I believe) us women get where we start try and express an upset about one thing, but then that layer comes away and an even deeper one emerges.

Guys hate these.

I get that.

But it’s in these fucked up, messy, snotty, my eyes-have-swollen-up-like-orange-rinds upsets, that deep grit that sits in the sediment of our hearts can be pushed out and the wound healed.

Something had triggered my heart open and everything from the very deepest wells of truth were coming out.

Some of that truth wasn’t pretty.

My fear of its awfulness was probably why I’d been keeping it stashed down there for so long.

But it was Truth.

And because it was Truth I was suddenly finding myself expressing it.

In the personal development world, people harp on about positive thinking and happiness … but it is in these moments of brutal honesty, of a heart vomiting its shit all over a boutique hotel room, that true treasure, healing and transformation can be found.

Adam – the amazing man and bless his amazingness – held the space for all of this to occur.

And then I GOT to the bottom of it.

I got to the bottom of my heart, to the pain, to the root cause of A LIFE TIME OF MISUNDERSTANDING.

It was so simple.

But so fricking gigantic that the hotel walls nearly fell down.

From that point, learning upon learning began to spiral in.

Wisdoms and understandings and handfuls of golden empowerment were dumped in my cupped palms, into my pockets and into every nook and cranny of my being.

I am not going to share those learnings with you now,

but what has emerged from that Heart Clearance

will become obvious through  our little co-adventure over the next period of time.

Everything has changed!

Thank you Paris. Thank you Magic. Thank you City Of Love and Hearts!

What a gift.

Phew.

It is SO exciting.

The next morning we got up early and ate our final painted breakfast.

Then we flew home, took a taxi, took a ferry, grabbed a lift, unlocked our front door and wondered why it felt like a million years since we’d walked into this cottage castle.

Since then I’ve been realigning my life with my new walk.

And enjoying the daffodils.

And that’s why I haven’t blogged since Paris.

I hope that you are amazingly, wonderfully well.

XXX