by Rebecca Earley | Nov 28, 2015 | Paris |
It has been two weeks, but when I close my eyes I can still hear the sirens. I was sitting in a café on rue de Bretagne with three friends visiting from the U.S. and England. They had just finished telling me how they had almost canceled their trip to Paris, because they were nervous about traveling alone without their boyfriends. “What if the Airbnb host kidnaps us? What if we end up in a dangerous neighborhood? How do we know we will be safe?” These were their questions, to which I replied, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. It’s Paris.” That is when we heard the sirens. We looked outside and saw that the street was packed with unmoving cars, and a woman frantically ran out of the café. I asked the owner what was going on, and he replied in English, “There has been a fire. Just a few blocks from here. There were gunshots.” I knew he had made a mistake in English. There are no gunshots in Paris. He meant to say a fire. I instantly switched to French and asked him again. He replied in French, “There was a shooting. People have died. Just a few blocks from here. There are hostages.” I looked at my phone and saw 3 missed calls and 7 texts from my boyfriend, as well as a text from a friend in London. My body went cold. I tried to catch my breath. There are no gunshots in Paris. This was a terrorist attack. We tried to hide in the back of the restaurant, except all of the walls were...
by Rebecca Earley | May 18, 2015 | Inspiration |
So I have been on the pursuit of happiness for some time now. I have been bulldozing through my life and uprooting all that is not good enough. It is a blind faith that has no real direction but instinct. You have no idea what the future will hold, but you trust that there is something better. Over the course of my recent trip to Portugal, happiness manifested itself in various forms. It was something as simple as sunshine on my face and blue skies with no clouds in sight. Or discovering new places and being taken aback by their beauty. To continuing down an unknown path only to discover one of the most amazing surprises at the end, like a gorgeous sunset overlooking Lisbon and one of the best wine bars I have ever experienced. It has been meeting new people who are kind when I am feeling lonely, like the two Belgians that shared breakfast with me, or Mr. João, at O João‘s restaurant in Lagos who beheaded and deboned my fish, and shared his memories of traveling to the States. It has been something as simple as having a really great meal, a great glass of wine, or tea and strawberries with whipped cream, while enjoying an amazing view, and realizing that I had nowhere else to be except for a date with my book in that moment. But I did not witness what I would call “pure happiness” until I was in the waiting room of the private hospital of Lagos, after my fragile spine had been thrown out again. I was surrounded by elderly couples all sitting...
by Rebecca Earley | Mar 24, 2015 | Inspiration |
What is it to rebuild your core? When everything falls to pieces. Unraveling, ever so slowly, down the spindle, like yarn that has lost its way. Do you build it back, one by one, with an ever cautious care and patience? Or do you throw it in, all at once, saying, “You’re stronger than this. Onward.” No, the spirit is much too fragile for force. It needs your attention, and ever loving care. Disk by disk, one vertebra a time, the spine regains it strength. But only when it knows that you are listening. Do you hear me? Do you feel me? Are you listening? I am you, and you are I. We have to work together, or we will no longer stand. We will crumble. One by one, step by step, you start to regain strength. You take a deep breath and feel your organs start to support themselves, the ribs expanding like wings, allowing for room to grow. The pain weakens and you start to hear the signs of your own body telling you, that’s enough. Slow down. Let’s do this together. And then one day, you have refound strength. Life still comes and goes, like waves, some more violent than others. But somehow you’re more fluid, more flexible, to bend and turn and let the waves carry you, instead of fighting against them. But how do you rebuild the heart? The most fragile of them all, where the waves are deep inside, and knock you over to your knees. Newly supported by its frame, will it be enough? Day by day, step by step… What is...
by Rebecca Earley | Jan 19, 2015 | Paris |
Note: I refrained from posting this in light of the recent Anti-Charlie events and the violence surrounding them. I had written this post before they occurred. In the end, I decided to still post it. I’ll let you, the reader, decide if you agree with my decision or not. You know how you will always remember where you were on September 11th? Well, now I will also remember, very vividly, my 29th birthday. It was near lunch time on January 7th, when I received a BBC notice on my phone saying that two people were shot at the Charlie Hebdo magazine office in Paris. I looked up and asked my French co-workers, “What is Charlie Hebdo?” They looked at me and answered quietly, “a French satirical magazine that is often targeted by terrorists.” I quickly searched for the Charlie Hebdo website to see where the office was located, but the site would not load, making me wonder how quickly the shooting news was traveling. It finally refreshed for a second and I saw a glimpse of the area code “75011,” which is near where my boyfriend and friends’ office is. I frantically kept refreshing the page until finally I was reassured that the office was far enough away from anyone that I knew and started packing up my things to head to lunch. At lunch my co-workers and I were all laughing and keeping the mood light discussing birthday and new year plans. I grabbed my phone to show them a photo, when I saw the latest BBC news update: 12 dead at the Charlie Hebdo attack. By the...
by Rebecca Earley | Nov 15, 2014 | Inspiration |
It’s a dark Saturday morning in Paris, and I’ve been up since 7am all “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” I enjoy early mornings on the weekends, because it’s the one time of the week that you can wake up to complete silence and have nothing but freedom and a white space to think in front of you. As I was finishing my morning tea, I happened to glance over to the stack of books and magazines on my bedside/coffee table (it’s Paris, every room and piece of furniture serves a dual purpose to fit into a 22 meter squared studio). Sitting on top of the stack was the “My Paris Story” book. This copy of the book was actually mailed to me from a dear friend and co-worker from New York City, who asked me to return it to him signed. And then it hit me, the physical presence of the book. A book that I could touch and turn its pages with my own fingertips. I could not believe that it was real. November marks exactly one year since I submitted my chapter to Dawn, and the Paris Women of Success began the exciting journey to becoming best-selling authors. Except the only reason that I actually became a part of this amazing project is frighteningly serendipitous. I had actually already written my chapter two weeks before meeting Dawn, and without even knowing that the idea of the book existed. I woke up one Sunday morning with a burning desire to tell my story. I felt that it was my duty to share with the world that I had pursued my...
