Discourse, Loneliness, and Saying Bonjour

Even though I'm an only child (which is ridiculous to say since I'm nearly 50), a child of divorce, introverted, and whatever else might be an indicator for experiencing loneliness, I can only remember actually recognizing that feeling for two solid months of my life: April and May of 2020, and it's not necessarily for the reasons you might think. 

Yes, it was during the pandemic, but... 

Yes, I had just moved to Missoula and was living alone, but... 

Yes, I didn't really know anyone in Missoula, but... 

When I moved to Missoula, I never deluded myself or denied that the change from The Entirely Familiar of Columbus, Ohio (where I'd lived for 43 years) to The Extremely Unfamiliar would be easy. I enrolled in massage therapy school, so I'd have people to see daily - and did see them via Zoom during the pandemic, even. From my massage therapy school, I made a close female friend that definitely saved me from feeling even more loneliness. Within days of moving there, I signed up at the CrossFit gym a mile and a quarter from my apartment - I know the exact distance because I ran or biked there every morning at 4:30. I intentionally went to the running store regularly just to be among my people. I hung out in coffee shops just to be around humans. And I was hardly ever really inside because, well, I was surrounded by mountains and a river and trails. 

The problem was my expectation. The problem went back to the Buddhist thing about suffering. The problem went back to what I tell my cat Ahsoka when she throws herself on the floor and meows like she's dying. You're suffering because you want it to be something that it isn't. (She's fine, by the way. She gets all the things she wants just maybe not when she wants them. She's not dying.)

When I went on my runs in the mountains or walks on the paths or bike rides, all I saw were families. All I saw were happy Missoulians who had someone. All I saw was what I thought I didn't have. I'm victim blaming myself, here, but the truth is that I was the cause of my own suffering, of my own loneliness. I had moved to Missoula specifically for the lack of people, and the mountains and the rivers and lakes. And I got all of that. But my expectation of something more, something different, was the cause of my discontent. 

It's like wanting your partner to be someone they can never be. 

And, I knew better. I knew very well that I could help myself by adjusting my mindset. That's the something I could do to enact change. 

If you accept that your partner can't be someone they aren't, then you ask yourself if you're content with the person they are. Instead of trying to change them, you change yourself. Your mindset. Your situation.

Of course, it's not that easy for everyone, I'm aware of that. 

In Missoula, I recognized that I was alone and had the solitude I'd wanted. I'd spent my entire adult life in a relationship. There was always someone else when a relationship ended. And now, for the first time, there wasn't. All of this had been my choice. I was single, by choice. I was in Missoula with just my two cats, by choice. 

With all this freedom to choose, why couldn't I make the choice to take advantage of my alone time and figure out who I was without a man? 

And that's when I learned how to be happy. Fundamentally and foundationally happy. 

When Clint and I started dating in September of 2020, I specifically told him that I didn't need him, I wanted him. He didn't make me happy, he increased my happiness. That put my happiness in my own hands. Months before meeting him, I had accepted my situation, leaned into the time and space for self-reflection and dug myself out of my loneliness.

Also, I decided I was ready to start dating again and after a few duds found him on a dating app.

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This morning I read an article in the New York Times entitled Why Is the Loneliness Epidemic So Hard To Cure? and it touched on so many issues that I think are at the crux of the overall epidemic blighting our country. The article reminded me of those couple or few months in MIssoula when I cried every single day (more often than when my mother was going through Alzheimer's, even). It made me think about kids who are growing up without the built in social exercises of calling your friend on the phone that was on the wall in the kitchen and having to ask their parents if Stephanie was there. Or walking to Tracey's grandma's apartment to ask if Tracey could come out to play. On October 31st, I told Clint that I was glad we at least still had Trick-or-Treating! 

But also the article made me think about one of the foundational reasons behind both of my businesses. A yoga studio and a wine bar: creating an environment for people to find commonality, to comfortably socialize, and to enter into meaningful - and sometimes curated - discourse.

Simply put, I like creating spaces for people to gather. It's like having a party, but a little more structured. (And it's my job…)

When I owned Yoga Happiness, I held a monthly free gathering at my studio called YOGA Talks - like TED Talks. I offered up suggested topics and we'd kick 'em around. We talked about what yoga was like for male students in the age of #MeToo. We talked about the ubiquity of the word mindfulness. 

For anyone interested, here's the link to my old YouTube channel. As an aside, I didn't realize my chakra videos and the Thai Massage video had that many views! Damn! (90K+!) There are plenty of free yoga videos if you want to try them out!

For those of you following my socials (Facebook and Instagram), you'll know I brought up the question of the accent colors for my shop. (This is related, stick with me). Lots of people gave me great suggestions and some of those will likely find a way in. To get more in-person help, I texted a friend who is a local artist to come take a look. She said her husband actually had a better eye for color, so they both came over. During the walk through, we discussed the state of the world and I further explained my hope for my wine bar. When describing the ambiance, I keep saying, "It's like a coffee shop, but with wine," and then dive into my vision for book clubs, language clubs, art classes, etc etc. I said to her, "Wine is almost secondary," and she corrected me and said, "Wine is ancillary." And then she said she liked the word and idea of a "salon". 

No, not a hair salon.

A salon is like a hosted conversation. Wikipedia gives more history and background on the idea of the salon, which, of course, is French. The idea is to gather and talk about a specific topic with the goal of learning something. It requires mad skillz, though. Skills that I think we're losing. Skills that are crucial to our existence. Like everything, I have strong opinions about this and connect it to many aspects of life and our society, but I'll save that for a "salon" topic at the wine shop.

When it comes to a lot of things in life, my belief is that the solution is much simpler than we think. I'm not a doctor, but how many issues in your life could be remedied by nutrition and movement? A lot. Having owned a yoga studio and been a massage therapist, and also spent lots of time with doctors, nutritionists, and physical therapists for my own things, I can tell you better nutrition and more movement are the foundation of good health. But, it's a lifestyle change, isn't it? And that's hard. 

Our country is divided. On that we can all agree, I think. And when you dig into it, people are disenfranchised because "they aren't listening to me", "they don't understand me", "I don't feel seen", and so on. When did we stop talking WITH one another? I was watching something the other day, I can't for the life of me remember what it was, but the person talking was emphasizing that the whole purpose of our existence as humans is to connect. We crave it. We want it - even us introverts (just in our own way), and we need it. 

One of the podcasts I listen to is called French with Panache. Their last two episodes were talking about La Politesse en France, the things the French consider polite or impolite. The French get a very bad rap for being rude, but like anything, you need to understand it before dissing it. (And don't think we Americans corner the market on being super polite). One thing they talked about was "Bonjour". Basically, it means "hello". Technically, "Good day". But it's so much more than that. There are stories that people, even French people, tell of not being served by someone in a store or restaurant simply because they didn't say "Bonjour". So like, if you walk into a bakery, they'll say Bonjour. You should too, or you may not get your baguette. Here's why.

Though Bonjour is basically a greeting, it's also a recognition of existence. It's saying, "I see you. I acknowledge your humanity. I recognize your existence." I'll be honest, there's a lot in a Bonjour that is similar to a Namaste. 

So, you see, THAT'S why the French seem rude when you don't even try to learn their language or when you don't say Bonjour. They never need you to say it perfectly. They need you to at least try because it's a recognition of respect and existence. 

It is the little things that mean the most. 

My hope for the wine bar is to be a place where, as Clint said to me the other day, people can come and stay a while. Be among people. All types of people. And then, like I hoped for my yoga students, that you take what you learned out into the world. Don't just leave all that namaste on the mat. 

What I miss the most when I come back from France, is saying bonjour - when I walk into a store, before I order a meal, when I talk to the artist who is creating something I might want to buy. Clint learned how to say it by emulating Julia Child - and the Parisians loved it. There's so much more sentiment in it than many American greetings. In my old yoga studio, in the transom over the front door, was a chalkboard. On it I wrote, "Namaste". The woman who rented the studio after me - for a Thai Massage/Yoga studio, kept that. Maybe it's still there even now. 

Since the whole wine bar is an act of appropriation in trying to create my own little piece of France right here in Petersburg, maybe I'll make a handwritten chalk sign that says, "Bonjour". And everyone that enters will receive a bonjour from me (and my staff!)- a recognition of existence that might melt away a little bit of loneliness.