My desert flower

The love that seeks itself that finds itself that is played out. The love that comes our way with the beauty, the fragility, the complexity of a flower…
Marion Sister Warain

I looked for a long time for this rare flower which only grows in remote places.
Who does not let himself be discovered so quickly? She only appears on our path when fate has decided to place her on it.
It carries the strength necessary for survival in a hostile environment—the wisdom of arid expanses, the maturity of lands swept by winds and tides, millennia.
She’s a challenging push.
And I am not a flower of the desert. I don’t understand her. I watch her every day, make sure she is developing well. Corrects the curvature of its stems, waters, breaths, strokes.
I even asked her: “Why aren’t your petals open yet?” Why is it so complex and slow? “.
I think pulling on the leaves will make her grow faster… Controlling, mothering madness.
So she would need air and space, land and time. Support.
To support life is not to encourage it to push and move forward. To keep life is to watch it evolve at its own pace, to follow it. Watch this flower bloom little by little from afar, in presence, in consciousness. Be there.
See in it its highest potential, its greatest aspiration, and accompany it. Fall in love with the next shoot, the lively and fragile petal to come, see in these flower buds the best that slowly emerges. And impatiently recognize the beauty in it.
Feb. 2012. Morocco, land of fire. Sahara desert. Walk in the silence that suffocates me, and let the images emerge.

Social skills are essential!

According to a US study, the number of jobs where social skills are essential is growing faster than the number of those not.
Automation has – will – have an impact on jobs. This is a certainty that is no longer debated. An ING study shows it again: there is a negative link between the probability of automation of a function and the number of people occupying it.
Automation does not rhyme with annihilation!
Affirming the existence of an inverse link between automation and employment amounts to agreeing with the fatalists of all stripes for whom such a process signals the inevitable destruction of millions of jobs… But fortunately… All is not black in the land of a dollar (okay, it may not be an Alexandrian, but it rhymes)! The number of jobs with a high probability of automation is growing more slowly than those with a low chance of automation on the one hand. On the other hand, automation induces the emergence of new professionals.
Training and social skills
These two observations lead the researchers to conclude that the job losses induced by automation can be compensated by appropriate training and also underline the importance of soft skills or social skills such as, for example, communication and work in a team.
Good plan: a tool to evaluate your soft skills
Four training funds have grouped around the European App-side project and have developed a self-assessment tool intended for young people and covering six soft skills identified as critical. His name: Testyourselfie.

My baby, you will be born in a world on fire.

Letter from a future mother to her child.

My baby,
2020, Australia has been facing fires for weeks. Millions of animals have perished. The flames are gigantic and do not seem to be weakening. Australia, where I built part of my identity, was the breeding ground where my heart opened up to the unknown. Someday I will take you.
Fire. Purification of land that can no longer take it that is suffocating. Leave the place, make new skin. Indeed, this is what she needs on our planet.
Elsewhere, water submerges and washes—another drainage of the surpluses that we accumulate in our bodies. Wash with plenty of water. Rinse thoroughly.
You will be born into a drifting world. Hasn’t he always been?
“We must stop multiplying. There are already too many. Let’s stop having children. “What good is it to have children in such an uncertain context, to give them what future? “I hear, I read that kind of thing.
Having a child, by far the highest polluting act.
The question is valid. Perhaps for the first time since humans have existed. Do they ask themselves these same questions in countries at war? What about our great-grandparents when the future was so uncertain? Did they only have the choice and the means to make this decision?
So what do we do? Do we stop giving life?
I will not know how to live in a world of subtraction, where we see departures and newer arrivals.
I could not live in a world where only one side is given to us to live. Death, without giving life.
Life remains through its balance, give and receive. By its polarities, its diversities, its thousand colors.
Light with darkness.
Day by night.
The sun with the moon.
The calm with the storm.
Love with hate.
Birth with death.
A world without a newborn, is it still a world? Is he still alive? Or does he slowly perish – sclerotic, frozen – thinking of saving himself?
So yes, my child, life is as beautiful as cruel, as sweet as it is violent. It does not spare in its path, irrationally and unfairly, those who are crossing it.
My child, you will be born into a world of a thousand hopes and possibilities.
Because I believe that there is everything to imagine, try, create, reinvent. Because I think in these new generations, like those who preceded laying their stones in the building to evolve sometimes to the extreme, of course. Everything is not to be thrown away. Isn’t the stake in tipping the scales?
Balance. Balance. The middle. Correctness. Isn’t that what?
Where can one find justice while preventing life from springing up as it has done so well, so naturally, so magnificently and mysteriously since the beginning of the world?
Can we prevent the bacteria from transforming to develop fins, then arrive on earth with its legs and diversify into a thousand species? Can we stop the man from standing up while he was bent all the time?
Can we stop the dazzling and so mystical meeting of two cells that create existence?
Can we stop the mad rush of your cells from growing inside me?
How many babies have cleared their way despite contraception? How many plants grow in the desert, on the rock, and on the concrete? How many viruses and bacteria resist our destruction?
Life wants to live.
I do not want to exist in a world devoid of these lights of life which come to tell us and form a new world without the conviction of their immense potential to change the course of things.
That would be to underestimate life, to abandon all faith, all hope, all impetus.
To us, the laughter, the joys, the wonders, the projects!
To us, the tears, the disappointments, the frustrations and the disillusions!
The fires and the waves are ours.
Life is ours.

I started traveling because I was afraid of being bored.

The bland story of a girl like any other.
23 years. I had time to finish my Master’s in Lyon, work for three years in a work-study program in the same company in Paris, get tired of this position that was going to be offered to me on a CDI, and be offered a doctorate. On emotional intelligence.
23 years. I had time to fall madly in love, to suffer to death, to have a few little stories that always ended in tears and regrets. The eternal catchphrase declined under several male profiles—complex and tortured relationships.
23 years. I had friends, acquaintances, parties. I had a broken-up, blended family. Sundays at Papa’s, shared Christmases, vacations abroad with the family. Arguments to tear each other apart. I was loved and misunderstood.
Yet, I had nothing to say.
When I reread the first lines written in my book a few days before the significant departure in December 2014, I write:
“I’m 23 and I don’t feel like I’ve been through anything special. What will I tell my children and grandchildren when my old age leaves me with only hazy memories to share?”
What mark will I leave off my passage on Earth?
I refused everything that was offered to me. Ph.D. Employment. The last buddy. I was left alone.
I jumped with a heart swelling with happiness, the size of a hot air balloon.
I was far from knowing what I know today. I was far from being who I am now, and yet I left with this innocence mixed with a profound certainty: that of living the most incredible adventure of all my life.
I was drunk with joy and scared to death, but fear gave wings and stars in my eyes. It was the best start of all my round trips, much happier than the one for immigration to Canada. But that’s another story…
Four countries, one year, encounters and adventures to fill entire notebooks of experiences and emotions.

What will I tell my children and my grandchildren?
The outstretched hand and generous heart of those people who did not know me and who made me sleep under their roof in Sydney, Melbourne, Townsville, Byron Bay, Païta. The fear I had the night a drunk guy collapsed in our tent in the middle of a deserted forest. The galleys, the arguments, the doubts, the tears, the lies that dot the trip, like a concentrate of life condensed in a few months.
The intensity of relationships where everything is created instantly, where the temporary connect us, the absolute becomes denser: now or never. Friendships for a life freed from a distance. The stories of one evening encountered at the bar, where artificial means have become superficial to bring about the meeting—love stories, better than in the movies, nights spent in the moonlight.
The energy that tropical greens, turquoise blues, the radiant smiles of happy people, the singing of birds, the dancing of whales, the light of snow-capped peaks gave me. The silent and benevolent harmony of the Aboriginal sacred lands. The exhausting but sublime hikes, the miles of roads without knowing where I would sleep, the open sea trips to scan the horizon and watch the turtles.
The freedom of not knowing what to do in a few days or months, or who I wanted to be—the choice of no-choice. The respect of any obligation, except vibrating with the present moment in these pleasant or sometimes tricky moments.
The privilege of meeting me, among all the other encounters. Touch my sensitive cords and my wounds, wake up my demons, tame my fears, satisfy my desires, reveal my talents and my qualities, discover my limits. Please get to know me, build a bond of trust, unseat the padlocks, and drop the masks.
Spirituality rediscovered as a symbol of my journey in each country, with different expressions, yet carrying the same message: “I am”. I am in the sky playing with the lights of the night, pretending to be a thunderstorm with divine lightning. I am on Earth making your footsteps vibrate. I am in the ocean singing life to you, and I am in people’s eyes that I put on your path. I am in your shadows and your lights. I am in your tears and your anger. I am in your love rush and its absence. I am full and empty. I will tell them about this day when everything came together to sow a seed of sacred meaning in me.
I will tell them it was the best decision of my life.
That I have infinite gratitude for what she has given me directly or indirectly. To us, these dreams come true, not without sacrifices, not without pitfalls. What I have experienced no one can certify with a diploma, knowledge or professional competence, but it surpasses all learning.

What traveling companion do I want to be?

If I met…
In the street, in the metro, on the road, in a bar, at work, would I want to know myself? Would I have the taste (thank you Quebecois expression that I love so much)? To take the time to stop and learn who I am?
If I met, would I want to be my friend? My travel companion? My roommate, my employee, my boss, my collaborator? My lover, my lover, my husband?
Can I ask myself this question every day:
Right now, if I met, would I focus on who I am?
Then, act accordingly. What actions, words, thoughts do not please me, do not correspond to me? Is it me? How do I become my friend again?
Honestly… if I look back, no. Many times, I would never have accepted that a friend of mine would act the way I did. Not every day, not all the time. Especially on the roads of travel where everything is amplified, intensified, sometimes complicated. A perfect cocktail of emotions that can lead to many misalignments.
I improved over time. I learned to respect who I am, stay aligned, want to meet me, want to be my friend, and love myself.
I, I am myself.
Far from me wanting to be perfect, to embody the ideal. Already, because my perfection is not yours, then, because I can’t please everyone, I don’t want to please everyone… Anyway, I’m working on it. I take away from myself the – unhealthy – need to be loved by everyone. I would like to please myself. My imperfections often appeal to me.
When I groan and find the grumpy child, I make myself laugh. When I cry in anger or grief, I get emotional. When I rediscover innocence in my ignorance and sometimes in my stupidity. When I get impatient, scream, run away, I sympathize. I will continue to be my friend in many of my imperfections because that is who I am too.
Thanks to them.
To those who supported me when I couldn’t do it myself. To those who loved me when I was unable to. To those who enjoy what I hate about me. To those who stayed, when I ceased to be there for me.
To my friends, lovers, brothers and sisters in blood, heart and soul, for traveling, to my parents, thank you for being my friends and for walking with me the paths of self-love.