While chatting online with my friend Jessica, she said something about “having faith.” This was in regards to life in general, as well as her career. It stuck in my head, because I constantly think about faith. Not in a religious sense of the word, but in the overall belief in oneself and that what will be will be; if it’s meant to be.
Since moving to Paris, I have had the feeling that I am meant to be here and I have to have faith that the necessary things will happen in order for me to stay. As I wait for dual citizenship with Latvia, through my late-father, I have to figure out how to legally work here. I could go the Student Visa route, which I might end up doing, but I have my eyes on a bigger, brighter star: the Skills and Talents Visa.
I have spent the last few weeks pulling together the paperwork necessary and, as I go through my daily chores of calling for police clearances, finding a notaire, getting my fingerprints to send back to the U.S.A., and working on a proposal for a project, I am constantly worried about all the what ifs. “What if they say NO!” I guess I have to look at like, “Well, what if they say no? You do something else!”
I tell myself constantly that I have to stop this nonsense, because I believe I’m meant to be here. I have to have faith that I am in the right place. “If you build it, they will come.” And like Ray Kinsella, you just have to have the balls to build a baseball field in the middle of your cornfield. Perhaps Paris is my cornfield. And when you completely rearrange your life, you have to have faith that you are doing the right thing and that everything (and everyone) that is supposed to be a part of your life will remain (or appear.) Since the moment I stepped onto French soil and moved into my first apartment, I have known that I made the right decision. I would look out over Paris and go “Damn!” I still do. Every day.