Je me souviens

"The stones Deucalion had thrown were formed as men, Those from Pyrrha's hand reshaped as women. Hence we are hard, we children of the earth, And in our lives of toil we prove our birth."
- Ovid's Metamorphoses

Je me souviens. I remember. It reads that at the bottom of Quebec license plates. The expression is intended as a reminder to remember the past and its lessons, the past and its misfortunes, the past and its glories. Je me souviens.

It was hot as hell that day. I was seeking sanctuary in a litttle boutique at the heart of the French Quarter sifting through jars and potions and dolls in what was a house of voodoo when a young attractive man beckoned me to the back of the shop.

When my eyes adjusted to the dark and dim candlelight, I saw the young man seated at a small table in front of an old stone fireplace. The fireplace was covered in trinkets. The room was filled with incense. He motioned for me to sit opposite him on an old wooden chair.

I sat down and looked at him. He had dark messy hair. Calm blue eyes. He was unshaven. He wore jeans and a faded Iron Maiden t-shirt. He was actually kinda sorta beautiful. I guessed him to be in his early thirties. He cracked a beautiful smile at me as though he had heard my last thought. (I not entirely sure he hadn't).

"You know, it's no accident that you're in New Orleans?" he began. It was meant rhetorically. Unabashedly, he divulged that he was "told" to do my reading and he remarked that I was a very old soul. He told me that he would consider it a great honour if I would allow him to conduct a reading, at no charge. I nodded for him to begin.

I quickly realised, this man was no con. He knew things. He knew things that made my bones quake. He told me the marked events of my life. He told me things he couldn't possibly know. Things he shouldn't know. This man told me things my family, my friends, and my lovers didn't know. I sat there quietly and listened as this familiar stranger told to me my lives. This one and past ones.

He told me my life was a disaster. He told me that my life energy had brought me to the centre of the storm, the very home of disaster: New Orleans. Two years of devastation had taken its toll on me. I had desperately needed to get away from Ottawa. By the time I arrived in New Orleans, I had to check myself into urgent care. I couldn't take another step. I quite literally, couldn't move. I would wake up screaming. My body was covered in mysterious bruises. The hospital staff thought I was a victim of abuse. They were right, in a way. The mental and emotional pain I was suffering had begun to manifest itself physically. I was battered. I was broken. Emotionally, mentally, physically... I was in agony. Every part of me ached with pain. Nobody around me noticed. But this attractive stranger sitting in front of me now acknowledged it and some. He told me my character. He told me my childhood. He told me my ambitions. This man knew me. And saw me to be a storm.

He told me my totem, was lightening. And I possessed a strong connection to New Orleans. That like the city itself, I too have a long history. And I too have suffered through disaster. He told me I was connected to the fleur-de-lis that symbolises light and life. He told me the fleur was my sign to restore, rebuild, and recover. After the storm. After my storm.

It all seemed reminiscent in a way of the Greek myth about Deucalion and Pyrrha who survived the great deluge and met the oracle. What if there was truth to the ancient stories? What if, with the rocks left behind by total disaster we can repopulate our own lives with new life? And become great men. And become great women. And become a great people. Like Noah and his ark. Like Deucalion and Pyrrha. Like New Orleans after the storm. Like Haiti now. Rebuild. Restore. Recover. Have faith. Be light. Live life.

And so my familiar stranger taught me that great things can come out of disaster and he gave me a brave and fresh new hope. It was with him that I began my healing. It was in New Orleans that I found my soul. Oui, je me souviens.