I discovered the answer to finding happiness in Paris.

But it's not what you may think.

Bonjour Les Amis - welcome back.
If you were with me last month, you’ll know I spoke about finding my voice in Paris—or in my case, voices. Naturally, this month, I've moved just a bit north… to the eyeballs. We’re talking about what I see—or, more often than I’d like to admit, what I don’t.

This brings me to one of my favorite words I mentioned last month: Parrhesia.

An ancient Greek term, Parrhesia means speaking the truth, no matter the consequences.

French philosopher Michel Foucault put it this way:

“Parrhesia is the activity that consists in saying everything: pan rema. Parrhesiazesthai is-telling all” (The Courage of Truth 9 [1]

(I also love that phonetically it sounds like Parisian - the famously frank and sometimes brutally honest citizens I live amongst. But I digress…)

In the spirit of Parrhesia, I’m just going to rip the band-aid off as quickly as possible. I’m going to tell you something that might shake your image of me -so turn away if you are sensitive.

Here in the most magical city on earth, I live a rather mundane life.

It gets worse. Brace yourself.

After 20 years of living and working in Paris, I don’t always see the magic.

Phew! I feel better having gotten that off my chest.

Still with me? Let me explain.

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Speaking of seeing…

When you see something too much, you sometimes forget to see it at all. It becomes so clear that you often see right through it - the familiar (no matter how beautiful) fades into the background.

But it’s no one’s fault. It’s not my fault…and if you are reading this and thinking that you struggle to find magic in your daily routine, it’s not your fault either. It’s that pesky, too smart for its own good thing resting between our ears—that brain of ours.

It’s because of what Psychologists call Hedonic Adaptation. The idea is that even when positive things happen, we feel good for a while, but that feeling starts to wane. The same is true for the negative. The effects, either way, on our happiness fade over time.

We can also blame that curious term we keep hearing about: neuroplasticity. If we are constantly exposed to wonderful things (or the inverse) we just simply stop reacting as strongly. Our brain has a very smart coping mechanism, that either shields us from the shock of the horrible, or calms us from the state of constant excitement for the beautiful.

But here’s the gift: our brains adapt and learn (reminder—at any age!)—and they do so quite quickly.

That means we can train our brains from getting lazy. It’s up to us to keep exercising and working them to rekindle that child-like wonder we all still have inside us. We can refuse to let magical and exciting slip into the regular and common.

So, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that here in the heart of Paris, overlooking the Seine, in sight of the twinkling Eiffel Tower and in earshot of the bells of Notre Dame, it will be a rare occurrence for me to clasp my hands in elation.

Even those wonderful things become mundane if I am not careful.

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Speaking of the mundane…

Like you, I get up, go through my morning routine (which always involves journaling), go to work, and return home.

My days of being a flâneuse (flâneur is the masculine) going from cafe to cafe were never - I came to Paris for professional reasons.

I don’t eat a croissant every day, and I can count on one hand the number of times I have had champagne this year! Mon Dieu.

If you know me from my memoir, you’ll know that Paris and I had a rocky start. We still have our ups and downs, but now we know how to love each other (as much as we know how to get on each other's nerves.)

Living in Paris has been a true discovery… in so many ways. But my most significant discovery during these two decades in the City of Light has been that happiness is a choice—a choice that I have to make each and every day—and making that choice is often through how I choose to see.

Maybe it’s a result of a few years under my belt, but I will say that Paris has greatly influenced my learning that we can find everyday magic and beauty.

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Speaking of Paris…

I’m the first to say that Paris is beautiful, but she has been tough on me. She’s like the big sister I never had: effortlessly stunning, impossibly cool, adored by everyone—and someone I desperately wanted to emulate. She’d dazzle me from time to time, but just as quickly, she could knock me down and make me feel like the awkward younger sibling, the ugly duckling.

But in her darkest, most challenging moments (and I have seen a few), she showed me how tough, strong, and graceful she is. She taught me to throw my shoulders back and walk in with a head held high, even when I wanted to wilt. She has made me a tougher version of myself in so many ways yet, at the same time, softer and so much more thoughtful.

She’s given me plenty of gifts, but one gift she continues to give me—and all of us—is a wonderful daily reminder of how you can turn the mundane every day into the absolutely extraordinary. 

Maybe that is why I have come to love Paris…and maybe this is why you love it too? Because Paris and her people so effortlessly shine, I am challenged each and every day to try my best to be unapologetically and confidently beautiful, inside and out. 

I genuinely believe that this challenge to turn the mundane into the absolutely extraordinary is the answer to happiness.

Lessons from Paris on how to turn the mundane into the extraordinary - just gander at a door knocker, a transport sign, and a door.

And what about the beautiful mosaic of a cobblestone street, the elegance of an apartment building, and the opulence of a bakery?

Paris is the reminder we all need that we can take the boring and mundane of everyday life and turn it into the fabulously extraordinary :

• Buildings are not just for housing people: they are works of art…

• Dinner parties are not just for eating: they are for expressing care and attention to those with you…from thinking of who you will invite, to where you will seat them, to creating a space for robust discussion, to carefully planning how you will set your table…

• Having a coffee with a friend is not just for the caffeine: it is for taking the time to share hopes, fears, ideas, dreams…

• Going to a museum is not just for seeing paintings: it is for broadening your perspective, for enriching your life through art, and for the conversation you will share with a friend later…

• Going to the market is not just for shopping: it is for seeing your vendors, catching up with friends, appreciating fine produce, and participating in the most sacred of community events—coming together around food.

To me, all these little things add up to the big and bold. And as Chevalier de Méré says, you must be bold to be happy.

Chevalier de Méré was born Antoine Gombaud, in 1607 just outside of Paris in a city called Poitou. He is a French writer (and mathematicin) who not only wrote books, he rewrote his own title!

In his writing, Antoine Gombaud had a main character whom he gave the title Chevalier (Knight). This Knight represented his views. Knowing that this character in his writing was actually representing him, people started to call him the Knight of Méré (Méré was the city where he was educated)…hence the name Chevalier de Méré was born.

This non-noble-born man has gone down in history as a Knight.

What a fabulous reminder that we can write our own story.

Speaking of being Happy…

I’m constantly striving to be happy: pour être heureuse (heureux is masculine).

I don’t think I am the only one—whether you Google it in French or English, you’ll find we seem to be experiencing an unhappiness epidemic.

For me, it’s not about what I am looking at but what I choose to see - it’s about believing there is happiness to be found all around me. So forget the Paris buildings and door knockers. Let’s think about the little things.

When was the last time you looked at Asparagus tips? Stunning.

Or how about how about when you eat your summer strawberries? Somehow, they are sweeter in a beautiful glass with a long silver spoon.

I’m in love with washing dishes. Thanks to putting my dishwasher liquid into a beautiful hand soap dispenser. How fetching!

Have you admired the beautiful, intricate wrinkles of a cheese? Speaking of wrinkles, what about those love and laughter lines you see in the mirror? Gorgeous.

So challenging myself to see the small things differently is a little exercise for my brain to keep it happy, which is le bonheur—happiness - for me.

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Speaking of Le Bonheur…

Here in France, you have two expressions: d’etre heureux and le bonheur.

As usual with the French language, there are these beautiful nuances. Generally speaking, I have always understood it as d’être heureux, which means to be happy, and le bonheur, which means happiness.

Le bonheur is everywhere, even in a summer sunset. And we know how important it is to find it.

Le bonheur supprime la vieillesse : Happiness removes old age (Franz Kafka)

Le Bonheur, in a different context, can also mean good fortune—isn’t that so apropos? Being happy is indeed good fortune.

Speaking of good fortune…

Today is Fête du Travail (Workers’ Holiday). It is also Fête du Muguet. In France, people offer Lily of the Valley flowers to friends and loved ones. They are a symbol of Joie* and Bonheur.

So here is a little bunch for you—and I send with it ‘all my good intentions’—my mother always says this when I walk out the door en route to the airport. She got it from a film long ago (I wish I could remember which one.) My grandmother used to grow Lily of the Valley by the side of her house. One whiff, and I’m back in her garden.

I hope this bouquet brings you happiness today. It brings me plenty of happiness to share it with you! It also reminds me that when you share with others, you’re often the one who receives the real gift—what a sweet souvenir and a gift for me to be transported back to my grandmother's garden!

So, may you have plenty of joy and happiness…but not too much.

*Every time I think of Joie, I think of my friend

Ajiri Aki

She not only has a beautiful book on Joie but also an equally beautiful newsletter and she offers wonderful retreats in Provence.

Speaking of too much Joy…

Well, maybe too much is too much - possibly the most French thing I have ever heard.

Let’s face it. We need to have low moments to appreciate the high moments - it’s the yin and yang of life.

That ever-fluctuating change shields us from that awful state where our brains adjust and magic becomes ordinary. As much as I hate to say it, those low moments serve a purpose, too.

I try to hold that thought when I have them…I hope you do too.

But until those low moments come (inevitably, they will from time to time), I am constantly challenging myself to seek happiness —not through buying things, not through having an impeccable French accent, and certainly not through seeking perfection (I’m sure you will have found an error or two in this newsletter), but through magic of changing how I choose to see the world.

No matter what city we live in, we can choose to find the hidden magic around us.

So, I hope this newsletter might prompt you to find ways to tap into magic…and the good news is: You don’t need to come to Paris to do so!

But when you do, I’ll be waiting for you, and quel bonheur it will be to see you!

Until then, a prompt I’ll leave you with:

What little actions can you take to turn the mundane into the exceptional and find your version of happiness?

With that, see you next time. Á bientôt, mes amis.

Jane

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A few last things:

If you want to see the magic in yourself in Paris, join me:

My GenerateHER retreats are live! I am so excited to host the next sessions this autumn!

If you want to see my view of life in Paris, join me on my podcast:

I publish an episode each week. I’d love it if you listened to it and let me know what you think! You can find more here.

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