Five Years Later in Paris: Finding Beauty in Pain and Discomfort
Difficult moments can be beautiful...in time.
If you are new here, thank you for joining! If this newsletter feels different from the other newsletters you see coming out of Paris, I have done my job. If you are returning, I am so glad to have you with me again!
If you received my March 1st newsletter, you know I love March. This is the great month of transformation. Blue skies, buds popping, fraises (strawberries hit the markets) and tepid weather. This is the month we start to see Spring unfold just like the flowers it brings.
This March 2025 is particularly special. I hosted my GenerateHER retreat. One paticularity of this experience is I do not create the itinerary until after I know who will join me. For the participants this was a massive exercise in trust and risk taking (signing up for three days in Paris without knowing precisely what you will do takes a lot of courage and curiosity.) But that was the point. My job was to create a community amongst the group while finding unique ways to help them express their sense of creativity. And my risk to do so (and theirs to join) paid off. The magic created among this wonderful group of strangers - now friends- is beyond words. This retreat is a beautiful March memory I will carry with me for a very long time.
At the same time, this beautiful March memory will sit alongside a terribly uncomfortable March memory. Today, March 16, 2020, five years ago, President Macron announced, ‘Nous sommes en guerre’—we are at war. The world was already quickly changing, but that specific date sits with me. And we know that dates mean nothing unless we mark them, or in this case, they mark us.
So, while I love March for so many reasons, I have also disliked it. This is the wonderful dichotomy of life. We can hold space to love and dislike something simultaneously—the extraordinary complexity of the human mind.
March 16, 2020, marked me in a negative way. But here today, five years later, I decided to reclaim this memory of Paris and make it beautiful.
Every year around this time, I look at the photos from early 2020, which you’ll see in this newsletter. A Paris you may never see, you should never see. Every once in a while, I try to delete these photos to free up space on my phone, but I cannot. I find them troubling and perplexing - and beautiful all at the same time. And while I know I will never see Paris like this again (I hope), it reminds me that even in the toughest times, we can still find wonder and beauty.
These photos remind me of a strange time that very much shaped who I am today. To delete the discomfort, sadness, and fear in these photos would be to delete an experience that transformed me. Those emotions are as much a part of me as the smiles, laughs, and happy times that sit alongside them. So, while I may not be able to delete the past, I can rewrite the future narrative - I can rewrite and reclaim how I feel when I look at these photos.
Speaking of reclaiming…
If you followed France in 2020, you’ll remember our heavy restrictions. For a good part of the time, we were only allowed out for one hour a day and could not travel further than one kilometre from our residence. Each time we had to have a permisson slip. Taking a brief walk or restocking the kitchen - groceries were about the only thing open - was all one could do.
Looking at these photos, you might think the locations seem pretty far apart—some clearly more than a kilometer away. So, I’ll admit it: reclaiming the streets of Paris was also my way of reclaiming my sanity. I’d fudge my departure time, slip into the small streets, and run as far as I could—whenever I could. I wasn’t just sweating from the run; I was terrified of getting caught—but it was a risk I was willing to take. In my own small, harmless way, I was using Système D to cope with the discomfort.
Speaking of the discomfort…
While I admit to being an introvert, spending quiet time in one’s apartment took on a whole new meaning in 2020. We were all trying to win the battle against the walls slowly closing around us. In whatever small way we could, we were all trying to find peace in the pain and discomfort—as hard as it was. But in that pain and discomfort, eventually, beautiful things can be found (like a quiet Paris.)
I like to think the lessons I learned during this period are lessons that all of us can remind ourselves of.
Ten lessons I learned from sitting in pain and discomfort - in Paris
You will see that you are stronger than you know, and you can overcome great things.
Fear is an excellent motivator for change - if you don’t let it overtake you.
Community and connection are lifelines during difficult times.
Having time to get bored is a rare luxury.
Routine is an anchor. You can create a small routine no matter the circumstances.
Expressing creativity in any form allows you to travel, even if from the comfort of your couch.
Through pain and discomfort you will learn to handle the hard better. Kara Lawson said it best.
You can steal back the moments that discomfort and pain stole from you.
One step past fear, pain, and discomfort is happiness, and happiness can take many forms.
No matter how you try to amuse yourself, you must learn to love and accept solitude. In the end, solitude might have been your best friend.
La solitude est l'élément des grands esprits.- Christine de Suède
Solitude is the element of great minds. - Christine de Suède
Speaking of Great Minds and Solitude…
I won’t say I have a great mind, but I certainly have a busy one. With or without my consent, on any given day, my cerveau is off traveling the world, imagining new businesses, reviewing that awkward discussion I had, thinking of a friend, panicking over how much or how little time I have. And like my body after a long and hectic day, my brain needs rest. It needs to be alone, undisturbed - in solitude. The trick is finding a way to rest a busy brain that always wants to be on the move. I know it is up to me to make that happen, even in this hectic world that we all find incredibly noisy.
Scientific research shows that solitude is beneficial when intentional and balanced (i.e., not excessive or forced).
Artists, scientists, and writers—highly creative individuals- consider solitude essential for deep focus, innovation, and problem-solving. Solitude enhances creativity, emotional regulation, and personal transformation. I often wonder if that is why so many have flocked to Paris over the years. Somehow, Paris can give you the solitude you need, and allow you to just be, but never in a way that makes you feel alone. The streets, the smells, the buildings seem to talk to you even if no one else will.
I had forgotten how gently time passes in Paris. As lively as the city is, there’s a stillness to it, a peace that lures you in. In Paris, with a glass of wine in your hand, you can just be. - Kristin Hannah
Speaking of just being…
When was the last time you could quiet your mind? I mean, really quiet your mind - especially when it is being méchant - naughty/mean (telling you that you cannot do something, that you are not good enough, that you don’t have the right experience, that you are too late…)?
If you have a secret formula - I’d love to know. I'll share four tips that work for me.
Journal. Make your mind explain precisely what it means, and challenge it to be very specific. For example, if my mind is making me anxious about an event going wrong, I make it explain exactly what could go wrong and what would be the worst-case scenario. Nine times out of ten, there isn’t even enough to justify an entire paragraph.
Walk. Take yourself and your noisy mind for a walk. A slight change of scenery can have a massive impact on your outlook. If you cannot get out and walk, go on a trip through reading a good book.
Do something new. If you want to quiet your noisy mind, challenge it with a new activity. Nothing refocuses the mind like doing something completely new, especially with your hands.
Write. Write your story. Remind yourself of how far you have come, how you have gotten to where you are now. Put aside any thoughts about whether or not you are a writer - I say you are. So tell your brain that, and get a pen. By the way, this is how The French Ingredient was born.
Of course none of these require a visit to Paris - but all of these help you to care for your overactive, busy-body brain.
Un cerveau bien soigné ne se fatigue jamais. - Jules Renard
A well cared for brain never gets tired - Jules Renard
Speaking of a well cared for brain…
Science tells us that a well-cared-for brain needs to be able to express creativity, be challenged, and still have meaningful moments of quiet in solitude. Let me add (those who know me will say that I occasionally fancy myself a scientist) that most importantly, I believe the brain needs to be cleaned out from time to time.
When I say cleaned out, I mean ‘spring cleaning’ type of cleaning - apropos for the for the month of March. We need to get rid of all the gunk that piles in every day: stress, insecurities, fears, not to mention the uncomfortable memories that often pop up at the worst of times to destabilize you.
The only way I know how to clean out the brain, and those negative past memories that incite pain and discomfort, is to steal back what they have stolen from you. Like these photos that I am taking them back (figuratively)—I’ve given them a good dusting off and I am renaming them.
La solitude peut être une forme de compagnie. - Marc Levy
Solitude can be a form of companionship. - Marc Levy
My approach to overcoming pain and discomfort—and transforming those memories into something beautiful—is not to ignore them, but to sit with them. And the only companion for that journey is solitude.
It is solitude that allows you to reflect and steal back those moments or days that negatively marked you. If you study them closely, you will eventually find beauty, growth, and transformation in them. Once you do, you can mark those problematic memories with a new future narrative—a beautiful new story of your choosing.
So today, March 16th, I reclaim this day and rewrite old negative memories into new positive memories.
From today onwards, whenever I look at these photos, they will prompt me to think of the new March 16th —and thanks to that, I will see nothing but the stunningly serene solitude of empty Paris.
And isn’t that beautiful.
So the next time you have that negative memory that thretens to holds you back from your new future or the new you, I hope you, too, will reclaim it and make it mean something beautiful.
A prompt I’ll leave you with:
What difficult memories can you reclaim and rewrite into a beautiful future narrative?
With that, see you next time. Á bientôt mes amis.
Jane
Don’t forget to join me on my podcast:
The most listened-to podcast so far is What it really means to be French. I’d love for you to listen and let me know what you think!
Or maybe join me in Paris:
The GenerateHER retreat - get on the waitlist for the next dates!
Love this mediation on memories, both beautiful and rotten. An important reminder that there’s nuance in life and much joy can come from challenges if you’re patient, open, and accepting.
Jane: Thank you for sharing your thoughts and suggestions. Thank you for being such a beautiful writer.