I am going to reblog a post I wrote last year, largely because I’m busy getting ready to go on this trip to Reykjavik (and beyond), and because it begins to address a theme I want to develop in this blog, which has to do with all the reasons we don’t let ourselves be who and what we want to be. The point of this blog is about allowing yourself to express yourself, in whatever ways are right for you, and how fear of letting ourselves do the things we want to do holds us back.
So, anyway, here is a post I wrote about facing my own personal fears about going to Paris. In retrospect, of course, now it all seems terribly silly to have been scared to go to Paris and try to speak in broken French, but you have to understand, I had this fear for a very long time—most of my life, in fact, and I was only able to finally deal with it at the age of 52. I stood in my own way; I was the one who couldn’t let myself do this one thing I most wanted to do, for fear of all the unknowns. Having faced that fear, I can honestly say that I have changed my attitude and perspective towards life.
I took all the included photographs of Paris, which I’m actually fairly proud of, although my camera was not very good, it turns out (I am learning a lot about photography as I go). It turns out that having a camera means I don’t feel so self-conscious being in a new place, and quite honestly, taking pictures allows me to enjoy the place in a way I never imagined would be possible.
- Best Travel Photography: Paris (xoxocriseldalovestowrite.wordpress.com)
- The Rigors of Being Your Own Travel Agent, Part 1 (fikaafterfifty.wordpress.com)
- The Path Through Fear (mindfullyhealing.com)
- When in Paris . . . (bellasugar.com)
- The Courage to Face Your Fears (courageousendeavors.wordpress.com)
- Learning from Richard Armitage (thearmitageeffect.wordpress.com)
First, let me say, it turns out I actually stayed six days in Paris. I only thought it was going to be five because I can’t count. Obviously, however, ‘facing fears about the French in five days’ sounds better than stumbling over the word ‘six’, what with alliteration and all, so let’s say I lost a day in there somewhere due to rain, which is true.
During the week I was there, it rained four out of six days, except on my birthday, which was gloriously sunny. Every day while there, due to the weather, the song “April in Paris” reverberated in my head. That sounds romantic until you take into account that when a song plays like a broken record in your mind, you start to go insane.
It turns out, aside from all of the unique medieval buildings, museums, culture, food, and architecture, Paris is like any…
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