Initiation

“Rather than roll a grenade into the room, I’ve written this book…”
— Cynthia F. Davidson, in The Importance of Paris, Acknowledgements

Sharing the Fourth of July fireworks, with the launching of this American expatriate memoir, feels significant. Though I can’t claim any credit for planning it, the coincidence is much appreciated. As you will see when you read the book, my intentions are to spark some serious discussions.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness…” from the US Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.

My story concerns the pursuit of happiness, life, liberty, truths, and self-evidence. And this publishing event happily marks my personal declaration of independence, from the decades of work, multiple versions, and endless edits of this book!

When the US Declaration of Independence from the British Empire was written 243 years ago, it was supposed to explain what was going to be different, about the purpose of these United States. Have we lived up to those promises?

As a woman, my rights were not included in that original declaration, nor were the rights of the enslaved or the indigenous people. We’ve had to fight for those rights, to education, equal opportunity, and even self-expression. My own grandmother was twenty years old before American women finally received the right to vote in this country in 1920. Yet we women have been expected to shoulder the burdens, without having any say in the decision-making process, much less a seat at the table of power.

Wisdom Wheel

Because of that July 4th birthday, the Birth Law of the United States is Initiation. Are we still a great experiment, or a disappointment to our own stated values? Equality is still not true for all. The combustion continues.

Writing News

People are asking me, “So, how’s your book coming along?” When I answer, “It’s done! It’s already up on Amazon!” they do a double take.

Getting used to being a published author, and not just another writer working on a book, takes practice for my friends too. In one of the regular circles I attend, Sarah Daigle’s Meeting of the Minds gathering, our topic was vulnerability and how the fear of asking for what you want/need holds you back. I’m working on asking for reviews of the memoir.

One of my first readers, Sheila Dobbyn, who attended the pilot workshop made my day when she wrote, “Cynthia, your book gets better and better! I am so excited for you. Maybe sometime I can have you and some of my other expat friends over for tea and you can exchange experiences and talk about your book. Also happy to introduce you to Inkfish book store owner who often brings in local authors.”

We are putting together a fundraising evening too, at an educational foundation where I will speak a bit about the Middle East and read from the book while we eat Lebanese food and hold a Q&A for those who attend. Hope to do a lot more of those!

For all of those who would like to hold the book in their hands, the print version of the book should be available early August. Stay tuned!

Workshop

Thanks to those who attended our pilot workshop, and made it so enjoyable. We’re offering it again, on Sunday September 15th. As summer ends and the kids return to school, (re)start your own writing project(s). Would You, Could You, Should You Write A Memoir? : The Journey from Inception to Publication. Only 8 spots per workshop to facilitate individual attention, so sign up soon. $160 per person.

Ceremonies

Never any charge for sacred ceremonies. Our next sweat (Purification) Lodge is Sunday, July 7, 10 a.m. And the following monthly open community one is on Saturday August 3. Please RSVP as these fill up fast.

The videos of the leaping flames made me sad but this was not a deliberate act, and no one died, for which I’m grateful. Plans to rebuild have already begun, which is more than can be said for other places recently devastated.

Like everyone else who has stood inside or outside that massive Gothic structure, with its distinctive flying buttresses, I looked through my pictures. Though many posted their selfies with Notre Dame, I felt hesitant to do the same so soon, out of respect.

My most recent pics were taken just four months ago, on this latest trip with my daughter, newly graduated from college. We snapped my favorite outside, in the main square, with one of Notre Dame’s rose windows above our tilting heads. The 2018 Christmas tree glows behind us with its lavender shaded lights. You can see them on my memoir’s Facebook page linked below.

If we had known that night Notre Dame would soon be ravaged by fire, what more might we have done to appreciate her beauty?

Wisdom Wheel

Beauty is our theme now. On the dial of the Wisdom Wheel, the Beauty gate is opening at this season. From the 21st of April to the 21st of May we celebrate the birthdays of our Taurus friends. Their Birth Law is Beauty. My husband Malcolm is one of them, and he’s turning 70 on the 25th.

Everyone lives under the Power Law in their 70th year, and on their 16th and 43rd and 97th years. Beauty has a Power of its own.

When I moved to Paris in 1984, I was looking for a Beauty Queen, though her Beauty had not spared her. Georgina Rizk had been crowned Miss Universe in 1971, the first Arab woman to ever win that contest. Only one year older than me, by age thirty this Lebanese woman was already a widow and a refugee, trying to raise her small son alone in France, a foreign country. Her tragedies — not her beauty — inspired me to write her story.

Ceremonies

Next Lodge is on the New Moon, Sunday May 5th in the newly rebuilt structure. Visit our Facebook page for any information about ceremonies.

The Memoir

Excerpt from The Importance of Paris, Chapter 13 “A Plusiers Reprise – The Many Tries”

That Sunday, on my customary long walk, I reveled in the arrival of another spring. Leafy little flags of green had unfurled on the overhead branches. Powdery pollen balls had blown off the trees, filled the gutters and floated on the River Seine. Oh Paris, what a taskmaster you have been.

At home later, I watched a documentary on television about the city. It explained how Paris had been laid out in a series of compass points, beginning from Ground Zero, marked by a stone in the pavement facing Notre Dame Cathedral. All twenty arrondissements unfolded in a great circle from that center. The lowest address numbers are closest to the River Seine. By contrast, Manhattan has no sacred center. Fifth Avenue forms its dividing line and the addresses go the opposite way, with highest numbered buildings beside the rivers.

The French had thought themselves the center of the universe, with everything revolving around them. And the Chinese had once called themselves the Middle Kingdom. In the US today we put North America in the center of our world maps. Each of us taking turns believing ourselves the be all and end all.

Another Enlightenment lesson of late has been about letting others in, to give me the help I need. I used to be so darn stuck on doing it all myself! But graphic designer, and editor par excellence, Gigie Hall, has taken what would have been my ‘not ready for prime time’ efforts and zoomed into another realm of professionalism. Her talents and collaborative skills on these newsletters and writing projects are much appreciated! We hope you like the finalized cover of The Importance of Paris, featured above, but even if you don’t, we’ll be alright. Hehe!

Wisdom Wheel

Before closing this newsletter, with an excerpt from the Preface of the memoir, I must say something about three other Laws.

Forgiveness: this Law balances Enlightenment on the Wheel. We cannot have one without the other. Besides working to forgive others for not being sufficiently enlightened, we must also forgive ourselves, for not being there already!

Immortality: I spent last year (my 64th) living under the lessons of this Law and believe it gave me the push to finish my first memoir so those stories could have lives of their own after I’m gone. We all live under the Immortality Law at ages 10, 37, 64 and 91 as the Wheel of Life conducts us along on our circumnavigating Journeys. Each year our priorities shift and life presents us with new priorities, ready or not. I’ll share a bit more about all this in another newsletter soon.

Ultimate Reality: this is the Law I’m living under now, at age 65. It feels big and it may take me all year to figure out what it’s trying to teach me. The last time I lived under Ultimate Reality I was 38 and 11. At least I can report during that interim some definite improvements occurred in my reality!

Ceremonies

Next ceremony is Saturday April 5th on the New Moon. Thanks for supporting the Bear Fasters who made it through! Two earned new spirit names after facing their fears and growing so much by relying on their spirits.

Contact Me For More Information

The Memoir

Excerpt from preface below:

This book was born of desperation and a deep need for healing after the war in Lebanon. The traumas my family and friends endured there left me unable to envision a happy future or believe in normal life. I knew something was wrong, but was not sure if the fault lay inside me, or outside in the world at large. Although high functioning enough to earn my living and be independent, my needs for closure overrode other considerations. To get over the war, I decided to find out what had caused it. Recording those reasons was my initial inspiration for this writing project.

Because the continued fighting made Beirut too dangerous to return to, I went to France for answers. I hoped Lebanese refugees living in Paris could explain what had destroyed the country we had left but still loved. My encounters with them, and other Arabs and expatriates, brought an unexpected reckoning. The problems of Lebanon turned out not to be so unique. The same corrosive corruption flourishes in Paris, New York, Moscow and Washington, D.C. It threatens everyone and everything, from our relationships with family, friends and nations, to the very air we breathe and the waters we drink.

The Wisdom Wheel

Last week, to help mark the 50th year celebration of a dear woman born under Surrender, I took a large set of Wisdom Wheel stones along to her party. Two decades ago, this friend had been in our original Wisdom Wheel study circle. The three years we met regularly then to study the Laws still bond us, despite all the water flowing under the bridges of our lives. We remember her before the birth of her three children and hope to be present for her 60th and 70th years and beyond. Her grade school, college and work friends had heard her talk about the Wisdom Wheel but this was the first time they experienced it.

After the food and cake, we drew our chairs in a circle around the rocks and I passed a bag of smooth blank stones for each to choose from and keep. After a brief explanation of the Wheel, they studied the set of 36 engraved stones in the center of the room, and picked one Law. Using the colored markers provided, each wrote their chosen law on their small stone. As we went around the room, each woman shared which Law they’d chosen and why. Four had picked Journey. Until we sat in a circle together, they did not know they were born under the Journey Law (Virgo) and that it balances Surrender, the Birth Law of the friend whose journey we’d gathered to celebrate. On my drive home from Connecticut to Rhode Island, I savored more of the wisdom exchanged and how the Wheel both drew it forth and helped to tie it down as we celebrated. Before my final surrender, I’m determined to leave behind a book that teaches people how to do these things for one another.

Watching & Reading

My husband Malcolm and I often wind down each evening with a good book or a good film. The other night he found a 2010 French language movie called Incendies, based on the story of Souha Bechara. Full of surrender stories, I highly recommend it, though it should not be seen alone. Like my memoir, it concerns the before, during and after effects of dealing with war in the Middle East. The Woman Who Sings, the main character, refuses to surrender her voice, although imprisoned. She already had to surrender too much, including her first-born child and her freedom, yet her voice empowered others to resist. Her message is about the need to stay together, which demands we surrender whatever keeps us apart. Powerful.

Ceremonies

Our annual four day Bear Fast begins on the eve of the Spring Equinox, Wednesday March 20th and ends with the Lodge ceremony on Sunday morning March 24th.

The Memoir

We still expect to make our limited release publication date of April Fools Day. Watch for our announcement about discounted pre-publication orders for The Importance of Paris memoir. Here’s an excerpt from “Chapter 17. Le Cout de La Vie – The Cost of Living.”

…I walked toward my apartment. Such a gloriously sunny day could not be spent working alone in my studio. I turned toward the Pont de la Tournelle instead, wanting to visit Saint Genevieve. Upon reaching the bridge and her solid stone body I felt deeply comforted. Near her towering form I rested. A strong sensation came, as if my island home was shifting shape, being transformed into a boat ready to move through the water. Ready or not, it was carrying me forward, heading out to sea. Standing on the deck of this spirit ship, the ancient motto of Paris came to mind, Fluctuat nec mergitur (Latin for “She is tossed by the waves but does not sink”).

It was time to honor the death of my loves. What had animated our connections had to be released before the rot set in. To surrender any remaining attachments to Mon Fantome and the others, I summoned what was left, knowing this watery burial must complete the process of letting go. As reluctance gave way, the remaining tentacles of regret loosened. Leaning upon the bridge railing, I shoved everything overboard with a final great heave. Down into the frothy waters went this strange emotional package to sink in the wake of moving on. Rather than being dragged under, I let it all go. The River Seine was flowing on, showing me how to live.

Freeing them freed me. There was nothing more to learn. The soul of my love could take flight now and roam. I would follow wherever it led. Another love would reanimate me for I still had my capacity for ecstasy. Loving like I had would make the next time better and maybe a tad bit wiser.

Until next time,
Cynthia F. Davidson

Oral Storytelling

I went to Tell Newport at the Firehouse theatre recently. The theme that night was “The Last Straw.” Five people, mostly women, each had ten minutes to tell a true story, without notes or props. Taking the stage and speaking truths to strangers is heroic and their courage was infectious — better than sitting on the couch in front of a TV. One story, about combatting suicidal depression, after the theft of the popular election vote victory in the 2016 presidential race, stays with me: “…I pinned a ‘Free Hugs’ note to the back of my jacket and went out to offer what I could to other people who were also hurting.” Because of this illegitimate presidency, this storyteller has also lost access to healthcare during their transgender journey.
The Wisdom Wheel
Sharing the television spot about the Wisdom Wheel last month has connected me with old friends and the newly intrigued. How refreshing to rediscover “beginner’s mind” on this subject after discussing it for over twenty years. Some opportunities are in the works and if your organization needs a different kind of speaker or something out of the box to catalyze great discussions, contact me. I am always willing to hit the road for good causes and an honorarium.

Ceremonies

Our next Community Lodge is Feb. 16th at 10 a.m. Anyone wanting additional information about this or the annual four day Bear Fast coming up next month should contact me soon. No charge for ceremonies though we accept donations. These are the antidotes to commercialism and corruption.

The Memoir and Other Writing

Writing Groups

Books don’t get written in a vacuum and most of my Saturday mornings are spent with my writing group, hearing their written stories read aloud and sharing my own. The feedback of these friends and beta readers is priceless. Our latest prompt included “A Brush With Greatness” and I used a memoir excerpt.

Book Clubs

Being a regular reader is also important. Without savoring the tales told in great books, how would any of us recognize wonderful writing? Escaping into the magical realms enclosed between the pages has kept me sane. Two decades of faithful book club membership have become a most profitable investment. To understand not only what the well-proven mechanics are but what readers want. Ethos, Pathos, and Logos have been satisfying us since the days of Aristotle.

Please enjoy a short excerpt from my memoir below (for the “Brush With Greatness” prompt), and stay tuned for the book’s release this year.

Until next time,
Cynthia F. Davidson

An invitation came in the mail to a reception held by the mayor of Paris, Jacques Chirac’s Hotel de Ville (City Hall). The occasion was the translation into French of a book of poetry written by Prince Abdullah al Faisal Al Saud. How my name had gotten onto the invitation list was a mystery. Perhaps Waddah? Or my old Mobil Oil boss who knew I wrote poetry? I decided to attend and responded to the RSVP.

The overly ornate interior of the Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was full of elegantly dressed people when I arrived on the appointed evening. The honor guard was going up the steps and we paused to allow the soldiers time to go through the flourishes, drawing their sabers. The trappings of empire, I thought while following them up the carpeted steps. Inside the large reception room huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling where frescoes of naked women and cupids frolicked in eighteenth century style. These would never be seen in the City Halls of Riyadh or Jeddah I noted dryly while passing beneath them.

Jacques Chirac, the mayor of Paris, seemed harried and sweaty when I shook his hand in the receiving line. That evening his introductory speech droned on and on about the long friendship between France and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was thinking of the details he was leaving out. Who would tell the truth if I didn’t write it? Ruefully I recalled the real story Mazen had told me years ago about his father, Dr. Rashad Pharaon, being the first Saudi ambassador in Paris. Although the medical doctor had been born in Syria, King Abdul Aziz Al Saud had sent Rashad Pharaon to represent Saudi Arabia after the Second World War because he trusted him. By then Mazen’s father was the king’s personal physician, and he had treated many members of the royal family, curing them of syphilis too, if those rumors were correct.

Dr. Pharaon’s diplomatic credentials had been rejected at first by the French government because his name was still on their most wanted list. He had joined the resistance movement during the French occupation of the Levant (Syria and Lebanon) and part of an ambush that killed a French officer. A wanted man, Dr. Pharaon had fled south into the desert, ending up in Riyadh, where his medical talents were much appreciated. His medical degree had been earned in France, and he spoke the language and understood the thinking of the colonialists.

The Saudi king held fast and forced the French to accept the former resistance fighter as Ambassador Pharaon. Mazen was born in Paris during his father’s posting. His mother was already in labor on the way to the hospital and he arrived in the car on a bridge over the River Seine. He’d never known which of the city’s thirty-seven bridges it had been.

Now the featured poet took the podium, graciously thanking the mayor for his remarks. This Saudi Prince Abdullah was a grandson of that first Saudi King Abdul Aziz, and a brother of the current Saudi Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Saud. These brothers were both sons of the assassinated King Faisal, whose reign I’d lived under in Saudi Arabia. Prince Abdullah spoke exclusively in Arabic, with an interpreter. Reciting his poetry and making his remarks, he often stroked his nearly white goatee. Such a familiar gesture, I’d seen so many Muslim men touch their beards this way, while swearing Wahayat Allah, by the beard of the Prophet.