“Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.” ~ Annie Dillard

les banalités

les banalités

small talk

The weight of my head at night can make my neck ache.
And then it begins.
All those little thoughts.
Our days are full of little words, strung together to make meaning. To make sense.
I’ve had ‘meaning making’ behind my general motivation to get out of bed for the last four years living abroad, and often parenting alone. Sniffing out a community, a connection, proof of life.
Am I here, with you?
Am I here at all?


I have just finished reading the book “Here I Am” by Jonothan Safran Foer. It narrates the lives of a family of American and Israeli Jews, from the massive and undeniable cultural and historical legacy of what it is to be Jewish, and what it is to suffer being Jewish, down to the minutiae of the frequency of their pet dog’s bowel movements.
I was thinking of their family ‘Shabbat’. Their day of prayer and presence. In the book, the Bloch family have their own unusual ritual. After eating, they close their eyes and blindly navigate the walls and corners of their home, touching everything familiar in the dark.

I think I get it.

I am here. Am I here? With you? At all? Here I am.

I think of the small talk we theatrically announce we so loathe when ‘having’ to meet new people, and I think of the fictional Bloch family. Coming together for Shabbat, eating together, then closing their eyes and feeling around in the dark. Small talk, les banalités, is exactly that. It’s a blind touch.

This feels familiar, but I don’t know you.
Do I know you?
Do you know me?
Shall we know each other?
Am I here?

“Good morning!”.
“Jeez, it’s been cold lately.”
“What do you do for work?.”
“Have you always lived around here?”

Those little, seemingly meaningless words gathered together, gather answers, gather momentum, make meaning. In the book the simple statement “Here I Am” comes from the biblical story of Abraham, and is discussed as being a ‘wholly present’ response by Abraham in answer to God’s call, “Abraham!”. Rather than questioning what God wants from him or what he can do for God, Abraham is reaffirming his existence.

I’ve moved ‘home’ after almost 10 years and it feels familiar. I’m meeting other parents at school, joining new groups of people, meeting new neighbours, making a lot of small talk. The truth is, words mean something, no matter how banal. I will keep navigating my way in the dark, feeling for the familiar, finding connection to make this home again.

I am here, here I am.

la muse

la muse

à nouveau

à nouveau