There have been times in my life when I started to feel stuck or disillusioned. One of the best antidotes I’ve found to this problem is to change things up. Do things differently.
This past US holiday of Thanksgiving, I journeyed to Paris. I’ve never been away from my family of origin for the holidays before, but my siblings decided to make Christmas our main gathering time this year. Instead of staying home and doing something less than inspired, I asked myself what would be the most fun thing I could do for the holiday. The answer was clear. Go to Paris.
I love Paris. There’s a magic there, a beauty both grandiose and simple if you pay attention. Of course, the food boggles this chef’s mind, and I savored many of their finest delicacies.
But there was a reckoning as well—one I had planted the seeds for a while back. A number of years ago, I headed to Paris to work on my first novel, Nora Roberts Land. I was in the process of trying to get it published, so I brought the manuscript to a magical location that had once been frequented by great authors like Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald: Brasserie Lipp. With reverence, I rested my manuscript on the table, and during breaks between courses, I would read from the novel to my companion. And dream about being published. I noticed an empty table in a prime location in the restaurant, and my heart told me it had once been Hemingway's table.
When I asked the maître d’ about the table, he confirmed my feeling. I told him about my novel and asked if we could sit at that table for dessert. He said it was reserved for special guests only, but promised that I could sit at Hemingway's table for a drink after I was published.
On a cool Friday night on my recent trip to Paris, I dressed to the nines, and my companion and I headed to Brasserie Lipp. I carried my newest novel with me. I had published thirteen titles including Nora Roberts Land since first visiting that hallowed place.
When I asked to see the maître d’, he was kind to me. Of course, he didn’t remember our conversation, but he immediately showed us to Hemingway’s table after hearing my story and seeing the published book in my hands. We had champagne and toasted how far I had come. I smiled from ear to ear. I cried too, thinking about all of the challenges I had surmounted to reach this beautiful moment. And I could feel Hemingway’s spirit shining down on me—another writer who’d picked up the magical mantle of words. Even better, when we asked about having dinner, the maître d’ said we didn’t have to move anywhere. We could eat at Hemingway’s table. Talk about abundance.
Happiness is doing things differently. Big time.
The willingness and desire to do things differently has led me to nearly every wonderful change in my life. This trip was no exception. And it confirmed another lesson I have learned, which was hard for me to accept: Ask for what you want. Always.
You might just be surprised by how easily you get it.