These days, the cicadas are singing outside my window loud and clear. In fact, they’re incredibly loud. I didn’t remember this sound before I left for Tokyo. It’s deafening, especially when you try to get up close for a photo of the beautiful creatures. I see the cicada often in art, all around the world, but I remember seeing it particularly often in France. Glazed ceramic, metal, painted on the walls… particularly in the French countryside. I don’t remember seeing it as much in Japan, but I’ve come to learn that it’s the symbol of the beginning of summer here. Much like the cherry blossom brings in the spring, the loud chorus of the cicada let’s people know that the rain is beginning to subside and the wet summer heat is settling in. I started to wonder if it meant the same thing in France, or if there was another story behind it.
It turns out that there is Provençal folklore which suggests the cicada was created to keep the farmers awake. During the summer heat, I’m often tempted to take a siesta in the afternoon… but there is no such luxury for the French farmer apparently. It’s a sign of productivity, a reminder that summer is the time to be active and not to be lazy. It makes me smile now whenever I hear them… it’s a nice send off for me. Now is the time for me to keep going, not to let things slide but to tend to my plans and to my health. Travelling around for many years, I suspect, has not been kind to my body. I feel dehydrated from all the long periods of travel by air and land, confused from all the changes in season and oversaturated from all the different sounds. It’s time not only to rest, but to water the soil that I’ve been enriching with all my experiences in the last period of my life. It’s not only a time to languish and become stagnant in one spot, but rather take stock and grow in a different way.
After moving for so long, slowing down can almost feel like stopping. It feels unnatural, and for that reason I might either feel like speeding up again by habit or becoming too lax. I’ve noticed in recent days that I’ve been choosing the former, I’ve been trying to hurry along the next stage of my journey in the same manner as before. But when we push, life pushes back. I must resist the need to speed up again, at least for a little while, and let the momentum of my travelling days cool off. There is a certain trust that’s needed for this, and one that requires a little self confidence too. The next stage of my journey will be making the move to France, to live. It’s an action that I’ve been too scared to take, but somehow in the last few months I’ve plucked up enough courage to cut my plans short and focus myself on all that’s needed. It’s a waiting game but it’s not passive. Like the farmer who plants their crops in March, I’ve done the hard work of planting the seeds. Now I’ve got to water the ground in which I’ve planted it, make sure it’s got enough water and watch it grow. I need to wait, but not be lazy.
It’s an art, and maybe that’s why it is so celebrated in France and perhaps in Japan too. I suspect the rice farmers who live around this area must now keep a control on the level of water in their crops, keep an eye on weeds and do daily work to keep the paddies as favourable as possible so as to providing good rice at the time of harvest. Such work requires daily consistency without necessarily an immediate result… much like starting a business or making a transition. You put your work out there, you submit your papers and you speak up so your voice is heard. There is always a little silence, a little gap, before you know the response. It’s this little gap which can destabilise even the calmest of us, and that’s scary. But it’s got to be traversed, in order to get to the other side. To where you want to be.
When I think about my process of moving to France, it’s difficult for me to fathom how I can keep my balance during the waiting period. But I suppose that I could do just as the farmer does, in Japan or France or anywhere in the world I imagine. Why do you think the farmers get up every morning to maintain their fields? Because they know it is their positive attention, their hopes for the yield and their care for the land, which will contribute to a good result. It’s going to soon be a time where I’ll need to wake up every day and take care to remain positive, and ready for the next step. To know that the good outcome is only possible if I keep choosing to believe in it every day. To take each day as it comes, relying confidently on my ability to navigate my own life. To stand firm in the knowing that all will be well.
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