Bons Mots From A Provence Stopover
I am back in Aix-en-Provence for 2 weeks, on the tail end of a teaching assignment that brought me to Europe. Last night I caught up with friends at the Brigand pub, and it was noted that a new essay was late. Indeed. This INSEAD program has kept me busy, but truth-be-told I’ve suffered a couple of false starts recently. An interesting essay angle pops into my head, I sketch out its contours and write one or two inspired paragraphs, and then, … where is this going? I let it bounce around the skull for a couple of days before accepting that nothing here merits 600 words. Substack has a Notes feature for shorter rants of random thoughts. Maybe I’ll use that more often.
Aix, amongst its many qualities, offers endless places to contemplate creative writing: cafes, brasseries, wine bars, bookstores, kebab and sandwich shops, nooks here and benches there. And so I set out in this remarkable town - my old home when away from the new home - to pen a readable piece. The Forum Bar has pulled me in. Let’s get this done.
Provence is restorative for the restless soul. The region is one of God’s little verdant gardens; a stunning postcard of flowering fields and perched villages and rustic tables laid out for Mediterranean bacchanalia. Crusty baguettes and olives wrapped in briny anchovies and cheeses of all shapes and odors, bottles of rosé wines in various shades, vases of radiant sunflowers and lavender. Provence is tailor-made to calm and reconnect with the positive side of life’s lush ledger (greatly valued in a news year full of turmoil.)
I’ve been blessed with hopeful moments this year; my ledger is in bountiful alignment despite the globe’s many wobbles. Provence offers a fitting spot to order a drink and appreciate these blessings. I hope that you, too, have a place and moment to reflect as 2026 winds down.
Family is the low-hanging fruit of good vibrations. My kids have provided much to celebrate this year, with a graduation, wedding, and engagement; no funerals. My 2026 return to Baghdad by the Bay (the perfect SF term of endearment from the legendary columnist Herb Caen) was aided by the unbelievable gift of a free apartment for the first 3 months. A modern flat downtown is now home. I’ve reconnected with friends and started to make new acquaintances, particularly young techies who populate my neighorhood; a curiously quirky tribe. The INSEAD program I co-lead remains popular and I’m making good progress on my creative projects. Perhaps most importantly I’m in good health, as are my brother and sisters. Lots to toast.
There’s always room for improvement. I need to step up the cash flow, as San Francisco has become hyper-cher since I my 2010 escape. But that achievement - inshallah - won’t join the list of blessings spurring bliss over a reflective verre this time next year. It’s an obligation, a challenge I’ll need to meet, but not a pillar of deep happiness.
Why, you may ask? As I highlighted in this 2016 Postcard, Martin Seligman, who runs the Positive Psychology Center at UPenn, has a well-researched thesis on the 5 pillars of happiness, referred to as PERMA:
Maintaining Positive emotions.
Fully Engaging with deeply rewarding projects.
Developing strong Relationships with loved ones and community.
Finding Meaning and a sense of life purpose.
Attaining Accomplishment.
Seligman doesn’t discount the role wealth plays in elevating joy, but categorizes its boost as temporary, once a floor of financial stability is attained. Winning the lottery will make you happier, temporarily. But developing the 5 pillars of PERMA will boost and maintain your positivity baseline over the long term.
UC Riverside’s Sonja Lyubomirsky, another titan in the movement, adds that random acts of kindness are cheap and effective happiness bombs as well. To wit:
I sat at a wine bar’s outdoor table with a glass of rosé last month near my SF flat. A homeless couple had taken up temporary residence about 10 yards down the sidewalk from me, enjoying the afternoon sun. The man was on his back and still, a hand-rolled cigarette extending up from his lips. His female companion was giving one of his feet, cradled in her lap, a slow and attentive hand massage. When finished, she slipped on a sock and then turned to the other, rubbing with gentle care. When done she pulled a puffy pair of winter pants from their shopping cart and slowly slid them on him, starting at the feet and inching up each leg. He finally lifted his hips and with a zip and snap she finished the task. I finished my wine.
As I walked past them I stopped and told the woman her gift of tenderness was deeply touching. She smiled, looking a bit taken aback that anyone would have noticed them or cared. He too grinned widely and responded, “she’s the best, man.” I want to hope our brief exchanged provided a moment of joy from a typical day of drudgery. I know that her smile of acknowledgement dropped a small happiness bomb on me.
It’s a rocky year here in France, back in the States, and around much of the world. It can be soul-consuming, but nothing a bit of kindness can’t cut through.
I’ll finish my Kronenbourg now and sign off. It’s only 6 pm but the autumn sun is closing out the day and there’s a red sauce with sardines to prepare. I hope that your year is winding down with calm and hopeful vibes; that a cozy living room or tea shop or wine cave is available to consider the many blessings of 2026 and ambitions for 2027. Santé.
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