We arrived in Paris last Sunday. As I was on the Eurostar I continued to reflect on my experience in London. In doing so, I started to draw some more insights and connections about how the novels we are reading related to my lived experience in the place we were now leaving. But, as I find myself in Paris I see myself in the same reflective state as I was on the Eurostar. The only difference is I am no longer in a transitory state as I remain stagnant in one country.
I don’t particularly know what I was expecting from Paris, except greatness. As we read a Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables, both novels spend the majority of the setting in Paris. Of course, both novels illustrate the intricacies and depth of human suffering, but they are also exceptional literary classics. Paris remains a hub of excellence where renowned authors, playwrights, artists, and philosophers come to experience life. And so, when I say I was expecting nothing except greatness from Paris, perhaps I was setting myself up for failure. How can one expect greatness, yet remain naive enough to not specify the parameters of what constitutes greatness for you?
In this way, I oddly feel that this internal dilemma relates much to the struggle of Sydney Carton. He is a man capable of greatness, and yet his own inability to recognize his talents leaves him constantly at the mercy of exploitation by Stryver. And so, as I roam the streets of Paris, I wonder to myself. I see so much to marvel at. There are chic restaurants at every corner, there are niche shopping stores, and the buildings remain so quaint, and yet I cannot help but feel as though I am just touching the surface. There is greatness lurking somewhere in Paris and yet I have yet to uncover it.
Where will I find it? I am not sure. I have no idea. Perhaps I will find it in the city lights, or promising nightlife, or maybe in an unlikely friend. The possibilities are endless and at the same time wholly unknown. And what makes this most frightening is that I remain the master of my own fate. Will I cower like Sydney Carton at the immense responsibility that is pushing forward direction in one’s own life, or shall I fly?
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.”
The first time I heard this quote was while watching Akeelah in Bee as a small 10-year-old girl. It was a poignant scene for me then, and eleven years later still remains as such, feeling even more applicable to my life now. As I reflect on the character of Sydney Carton during my first few days in Paris, I find that his narrative arch is intrinsically linked with the notion of responsibility. But the question with both Sydney Carton and myself, remains a responsibility to whom?
For Sydney Carton, his self-deprecating nature showed how little he thought of himself. Was he afraid of life itself or was he afraid of himself? For me, I see the greatness in Paris. I am aware of it. And yet, I remain paralyzed in actively seeking it. Am I afraid of life itself or am I afraid of myself? Perhaps the answer is both. On one end, I almost want to save Paris, so I can always savor the anticipation I once held about one day of visiting the city. But, on another end, I know that should I experience the city as much as I know I am capable of, I will change in some formative way.
At this moment, I suppose both me and Sydney Carton are, at the root of it, simply afraid of growing. And, I think that is understandable. I choose to embrace this emotion and allow myself to recognize it in me fully. But, I refuse to allow it to consume me. I refuse to wallow in it. This same stubborn refusal is a fate I would have wished on Sydney Carton.
