It’s about being present and alive to the ordinary moment. It’s about friendship and the knowledge that nothing lasts forever. It is Zen. And for the Frenchwoman, I believe, it is the heart of her happiness.
This book is my gift to American readers. My intention is to show you some simple ways you can keep your authentic American style, your enthusiasm and can-do spirit, and still incorporate some French joie de vivre into your life. It is also a love letter to the French; especially to Frenchwomen, and most especially, to my grandmother.
CHAPTER ONE
Joie de Vivre!
There is only one happiness in this life—to love and to be loved.
—GEORGE SAND
Looking for Happiness
IN AMERICA, WE ARE entitled to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
There is no such expression in France. In fact, in France, the equivalent expression is la recherche du bonheur (looking for happiness). On the surface, this might seem as if I am splitting hairs, but if you really examine the idea of “looking” for happiness as opposed to “pursuing” happiness, you’ll see there’s actually a big difference.
If we’re looking for something, it feels as if it’s there hiding in plain sight. It’s under the table, for instance. And all we have to do is be patient and when the room is quiet, quickly lift up the tablecloth and voilà! There it is! Happiness !
On the other hand, pursuing implies a kind of chasing after something. For us, happiness is down the street somewhere, but moving fast. We’ll have to move even faster. We’ll have to put on our cross trainers and chase after it, really chase it down, faster than the competition. Maybe we’ll even have to push a few people to the side in our pursuit, until we final wrestle it to the ground and capture it.
Or perhaps we believe we already have happiness, but we’re a little insecure in our lives and so we want to send out a message to the world. Perhaps we’ll buy a big car and a bigger house to let everyone know, including ourselves that “we’re happy, dammit!”
“Looking for happiness” seems gentler. There is happiness, and we just need to look. Perhaps happiness is sitting there in our garden and is nestled between the green leaves and the fragrant tomatoes. Then again, perhaps we just need to open a few cupboards and take out some nice spices and melt a bit of butter in a pan on the stove. Then again, perhaps happiness is in the eyes of our loved ones and we only need to look, to put on some music, take their hand, and dance. It’s not something we can truly own. We certainly can’t purchase it.
Isabelle is a thirty-six-year-old Frenchwoman living in Paris. She’s traveled all over the world and she works in personal development. She’s also incredibly articulate and wise beyond her years. I recently met her in Paris and we talked about life and love and family and work. Later, she wrote this about what joie de vivre means to her:
Joie de vivre is about loving life, loving people, loving to be alive, feeling alive. It is about smiling, being in your heart, and being grateful for all the beautiful things in your life: being in good health, being able to hear, to see, to walk, being grateful for all the lovely and loving people (people we know or strangers we meet), being grateful for the nature surrounding us and all that it gives to us. It is to be grateful for the mystery of life, that we are able to live and breathe. . . . Joie de vivre is about sharing with others, smiling, laughing, making people feel a little less down, feeling useful to one another, making them believe in the future. It is making the choice to be positive.
Joie de vivre is about trusting that nothing happens without a reason, and everything can turn out positive in the future. It is about accepting what’s in your life in the moment and feeling contented inside.
This kind of happiness is already within you, and it’s simply a matter of choosing to embrace the simple beauties of life. Perhaps happiness is right there with you at this very moment. In fact, he’s upstairs taking a shower, getting ready for his day and whistling a catchy little tune. Yes, love is joie de vivre.
Laura K. Lawless is a dedicated Francophile behind the Guide to Learn French at About.com, a free website for students, teachers, and lovers of French. Laura is also the author of seven books, most recently Intermediate French for Dummies. She’s lived in the South of France with her husband since 2008. This is what she tells me about joie de vivre:
I think of joie de vivre as optimism about one’s life and the ability to enjoy what you have without worrying too much about what you don’t. Finding joy in the everyday isn’t necessarily easy, but it helps a lot to share your life with someone you love. I was fortunate enough to meet my husband and partner, in every sense of the word, fifteen years ago, and together we have created a life of adventure, laughter, and joy, even when money, job stress, or the weather all seem to be conspiring to get us down. When we feel too poor to go out to movies and restaurants, we think up cheaper alternatives: we raid the recycling bin for art supplies, make each other scavenger hunts, seek out fancy recipes made from inexpensive food, and reminisce about great trips we’ve taken and meals we’ve eaten. We both recognize and appreciate how lucky we are to have each other, and our shared joie de vivre.
So you see, this kind of happiness has nothing to do with how much money you might have in the bank. However, it does have a lot to do with having a big heart and a strong imagination.
Dancing with the Stars
A few years ago I visited the small town of Gien with my husband. He was there to take part in a science conference not far from Cannes, and I was basically along for the ride. We stayed at a modest, family-style resort hotel. It was offseason, so the place was rather empty, except for about one hundred climate change scientists (who are a rugged bunch. I like to think of them as the Indiana Joneses of the science world) and a group of elderly French people. This was a funny combination—these rather serious international climate change scientists with a group of about fifty fun-loving French who often travel together. We met up with them at meal times and then later in the evening, but generally the two groups kept to themselves.
Then one night, while my husband was having a heated discussion on uranium series carbon dating with a couple of scientists from Great Britain, I heard the sounds of music and so I wandered off and found myself in the social room. There was a small but very lively band, including a singer playing the accordion. The Frenchwomen were dressed up in colorful, swirling skirts and everyone was dancing or standing or sitting near the dance floor, talking and laughing and having a great time. This was obviously the place to be. And so I decided to sit down and watch for a while. And then, suddenly, a rather chubby Frenchman sat right down on my lap! He began laughing and saying something very fast in French and I honestly couldn’t understand him. Plus, he was bouncing up and down on my lap, which was very distracting. The ladies next to me did their best to explain what was happening, but they spoke no English and I was left even more confused, until I realized he was saying, “Danse! Danse! Danse!” And I tried in my terrible French (honestly, I’m better now!) to say, “Mon mari n’est pas lá!” (My husband is not here.) But still, he persisted. “Danse, danse, danse!” And then one of the ladies took my hand and said something about “ avec vous!” And I understood that he wanted to dance with me and before I knew it, I was up there on the dance floor, going round and round, twirling breathlessly and laughing, and you know what? This chubby French guy was some heck of a great dancer. He was very strong and very sure of himself and he had loads of stamina. What fun! I gave myself over to the music and the movement and the arms of this very sweet man. The dizzying quality of being swung about the room, twirling and dipping, the closeness of the other dancers, the blur of faces and legs, shoes and smiles. My heart beating. And then