Thankful for signs

22.7.22

The other day I was coming into Paris from the airport, on a sweaty RER B train in 37 degree temperature with a 39 degree fever, my feet red and swollen, my eyes opening and closing involuntarily from fatigue, when I realised that I was in trouble.

Have you ever felt the sudden onset of panic creep in when you feel unwell and are surrounded by a crowd of strangers?

I felt like I was slowly suffocating. I would have to get off the train to try to breathe, but even then the idea of getting off with my heavy belongings seemed hazardous. The clanging of self accusatory questions that usually accompanies stress began to whine away in my mind. Why hadn’t I just taken a taxi? If I got off at any of the suburban stations I wouldn’t even find a taxi rank. Would an Uber find me?

Fanning myself with a magazine I crouched down by my suitcase. I had to stay on this train and get to Gare du Nord.

As if my desperation was tangibly felt by my neighbour standing in front of me, who seemed to be preoccupied on his phone when gentle flute Chinese music began to play from his phone. He slipped a few side glances at me as if to see if it was having the desired effect. It soothed me. Somewhere beyond the intense discomfort I could feel my heart very grateful for this distraction and subtle kindness. 1st Sign.

The train dragged on its journey, taking it’s time to also stop for a pause at each station and then squeak on with what I imagined were melting wheels. It felt like it had the energy of a steam train running out of coal. From Villepinte it dragged our weight to Drancy. Dragging on so that by the time we got to Stage de France I could feel myself absurdly bewildered as to why any of these places existed and why was I still on this train. With one stop to go, Gare du Nord felt like miles away. I tried to think about how far I had come from waking up in Monaco that day. Even with a 3 hour flight delay I had made it this far, this was just the last stretch. I envisioned my bed and how I would arrive to just slump myself on it with clothes and handbag still in hand. Usually, at this point I would like to think I would be in prayer. Faithfully claiming health and postured metaphysically in green pastures but I think between cursing the train and the track I was in a stew of stinky mood and despair. Now the next part I am about to tell is going to seem like I am writing some sort of 5 year old child’s journal entry. Bear with me. The 5 year old girl in me is very much looking forward to finishing this tale.

As my eyes looked up out of the window from my slumped down Chinese flute music imbued position, I caught a glimpse of a rainbow. It wasn’t an arch one nor one of those thick bursting up from the ground ones, no. This was like a patch of rainbow on a wispy cloud. It made no sense. Where was it’s beginning and end? Where was the precipitation in this sweltering heat? I tried to look for a reflective light inside the carriage maybe bouncing off the window and back at me. There it was floating like a little patch loose from it’s quilt. I felt comforted and distracted by my curiosity. I love seeing rainbows. In the Bible they are a symbol of God’s promises. On the day my biological Mexican father passed away, God put a rainbow in the valley of the Languedoc countryside where I was staying. It was the joy that cushioned that tragic day. So here it was again. A promise in this little flying patch of colours bringing me hope and peace. 2nd Sign.

George Washington and his rainbow sign (Louvre Abu Dhabi)

‘Feel your hope talia. Remember.’

I’ve been told there is a psychological term for both negative and positive experiences that your body associates with memories. So as you remember those positive memories your body begins to have the same physical reaction it had in that moment. I’ve forgotten the exact term, but my coach and mentor Hugette had told me about it to help understands positive and negative triggers.

Well for me in that moment of recognition, like a puzzle finally coming together, I felt a rush of victory surge into my heart. The heat of the fever no longer a match for this passionate sign. My limp body suddenly pumped with adrenaline. ‘You are never alone, You’re watched over.’ came the memories. It was my deep calling to deep (“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me” Psalm 42:7). My subconcious mind reaching and stretching far beyond what I could cognitively in that moment. There, where all the testmonies of faith are treasured now converging in this space between State de France and Gare du Nord. I was going to make it! And I was wearing my best dress (lilac coloured with frills, inner child loves these details).

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In the taxi ride to my home from Gare du Nord, I was somehow able to chat with the taxi driver. An Algerian chap full of enthusiasm for his day, which is slightly unusual for Parisian taxi drivers. He told me it was his second week on the job and that he loves to visit his home country once a month to be with his family. He encouraged me to get married and not be afraid of commitment. I laughed so much at his frankness and appreciated his desire to connect with me in that short space of time. Sign 3.

Upon reflection I remember the lovely couple I met on the plane coming from Nice that morning. A Geordie, Chinese heritage pair of human shine who both enigmatically chatted away to me about their holiday. They were a flurry of kindness keeping me in high hopes without even realising. His name, Aaron. The name of my Mexican biological father and my brother. Sign 4.

The pharmacist that morning who had complimented me on my lovely dress and said that it would suit her young daughter too. Notable gasp when I tell her I am 35. Sign 5

Since then I have found out that I have covid. Eeek. Only came up positive 10 days later. Had to cancel my music video shoot for a song I have coming out later this year called ‘Unwrap My Feet’, more to come on that in another entry. I’ve missed out on special moments with my bestie who is in town from Canada. Have had to stay put in Paris and take time to just get better. Which has lead me to writing this first of many (I hope) blog entries.

I wanted to start with sharing my gratitude for the little signs that save the day, kept me in hope and focus. I don’t know what they look like for you but I am convinced we all get signs that show us we are not alone and that just like on that exasperating train ride, help can come in spiritually and physically.

The more we focus on the patchworks of rainbow, the people that come into our lives to bless us, even if just for a plane ride the more we are in richness. All the help we are getting from what some like to call the universe is there for us. I think the focus on these signs magnetises more hope and we can feel it. Jesus said ‘For to every one who has will more be given, and he will have abundance’ Our realisation and remembrance is the abundance. An attitude of gratitude opens the way for more. So here is my cheers for more happy couples, Chinese flute music on sweaty trains, chatty Parisian taxi drivers and a smashing music video shoot to come! Hooray! Stay tuned.