twenty-seven

Claude had arranged to see me for another of his unpredictable but enlightening lessons. This time, though, I knew exactly where we were to meet: the Louvre. I couldn’t figure out why he had dragged me here, and as we made our way through the interminable galleries I wondered what on earth he would pull out of his magician’s hat this time. While waiting to discover this, I told him about my confrontation with my mother. He seemed distant somehow, which wasn’t like him at all. He must have something on his mind. Was he actually listening to me? I was doing my best to explain how I was feeling and how badly my mother’s skepticism had shaken me, but he didn’t react at all, just carried on strolling past the paintings.

“Claude, you’re not listening to me!” I finally protested, annoyed. How could he be so detached when I was in such turmoil? After all, he was the one who had brought me here! If it was just to see him acting as though I wasn’t there, what was the point?

He did not reply but raised a finger to his lips to stop me talking. This made me so furious I almost exploded. However, he sped up, and with an enigmatic smile well suited to this temple to the Mona Lisa, he led me to the room with all the works of the great master Leonardo da Vinci. Still without a word, he made me sit down on one of the benches in front of his last great masterpiece: The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne. We stayed for a long while gazing at the canvas.

“What can you see, Camille?” he eventually asked me.

Perplexed, my eyes surveyed the painting in search of its meaning.

“Well, I can see the Virgin Mary, who seems to want to pick up the baby Jesus, but at the same time the child is trying to get away from her because he’s more interested in grabbing the ears of that lamb. As for Mary’s mother, Saint Anne, she looks to me to be rather detached, but she has a kindly face.”

Claude smiled at my description.

“In fact, Camille, I brought you here to show you this painting and to explain that for me it reflects the mother-child relationship.”

The mother-child relationship. An image of Adrien whispering into the crook of my neck, “I love you, Mom,” flashed through my mind, while at the same time I could almost feel the warmth of his body against mine. Then I saw myself in my mother’s living room again, trying to explain to her my ambitions for a new career while she constantly interrupted me.

“The lamb symbolizes sacrifice,” Claude continued, “and the fact that Jesus takes it in his arms means that he is accepting his own tragic destiny. His mother, Mary, is trying to protect him from the suffering to come. That’s why she is reaching for him. As for Saint Anne, she is watching without getting involved, which shows that symbolically she accepts her grandson’s fate.”

This explanation of what for me only a few moments earlier had been nothing more than a charming pastoral scene took my breath away. Hanging on Claude’s every word, I gazed at the painting with renewed interest, waiting impatiently for what he would say next.

“Every mother is afraid for her child and tries to keep him from suffering, Camille. It’s natural. It’s intrinsic to motherly love. But sometimes that fear can hold the child back. He has to fulfill his destiny and make his own way in life. Until now, you have constantly been trying to win your mother’s approval. You have stifled your own wishes to keep her happy and not let her down. It’s as though all this time you’ve been walking in shoes that pinched. And now that you’re announcing that you want to follow your own path, it terrifies her. That’s only normal. But you have to learn to let her be afraid, not to take it on yourself, and to follow your own destiny. Have faith in yourself. Once she sees you flourishing and happy, she will be happy too, believe me.”

“I hope so, Claude. I really hope so.”

As I said this, I wondered exactly what kind of mother I was to Adrien. Was I doing things the right way? Was I letting him flourish to the best of his ability? He was still young, and his wishes and needs were those of a child . . . but what about when he grew up? When he had to make his own choices, to find his way as a man? Would I be able to let him do so without projecting onto him expectations that were not his, just as my mother had done with me? Would I know how to really listen to him and help him fulfill himself? We think we’re acting for the best, but sometimes our fears and even our love can blind us.

Claude had fallen silent, as if to allow me time to think. I smiled briefly to show that I was all ears once more, and he went on: “Today, Camille, your mother is afraid that this change of direction you’re embarked upon will hurt you. But she is going to have to understand that at some point not doing anything is what would really hurt. The worst thing is not failure. It’s not having tried. And besides, you can never protect yourself against future suffering, because that’s part of life. It’s impossible to escape it. Life is made up of the rough and the smooth. Everyone has to accept that as being an integral part of life’s rich tapestry. Resisting it only reinforces our dissatisfaction. That’s why wise men learn to act on the things they can control, not on those they can’t. You can’t change external events, but you can change the way you react to them.”

His words seemed to me like a trickle of cool water on a hot summer’s day. They strengthened my determination to press on in the new direction I had found for myself and gave me a lot to think about for the future, when I myself would be faced with my son forging his way as an adult.

So when a large group of noisy foreign tourists burst into the gallery and interrupted our absorbing conversation, I could not help tutting disparagingly.

Claude himself remained impassive, a broad smile on his face. Did he never get annoyed? He led me into another room, still giving me advice: “Camille, can you see how you allow external factors to impact you? You’re letting them control your sense of well-being. If that continues, you’ll never really be on top of things, and you run the risk of being forever tossed about like a little cork on the waves. On the surface, a wise person may seem to be navigating a storm, but deep down, everything is calm. The secret is to regain control over your mind-set and decide that you will make the most of even unpleasant things. To see the positive even in the negative. You’ll see: if you approach life like that, it alters everything.”

“All right, but even so, it’s not that easy to control your thoughts. We don’t always react rationally. I certainly don’t. For several days now I’ve been having doubts, I’m no longer sure of anything about my project . . . I’m scared. It seems so risky! And it’s not just my mother who has reservations. My best friend and my uncle have also told me they think it was mad to take on something so uncertain in the middle of an economic crisis. I’m wondering whether I shouldn’t put the brakes on it all.”

Laying his hand on my forearm, Claude talked to me in a warm, reassuring voice as if I were a little girl scared of the dark.

“Camille, what if to begin with, you replaced ‘I’m scared’ with ‘I’m excited’? It’s a trick that often works well. Oscar Wilde used to say, ‘Wisdom is to have dreams big enough not to lose sight when we pursue them.’ You’re the one who is right to take a leap of faith. Let me tell you a story. I think you’ll find it soothing. And it should boost your confidence.

“Once a year, in the frog kingdom, a race was organized. Every year there was a different goal. This particular year, they had to get to the top of an old tower. All the frogs from the pond gathered to watch the event. The starting gun was fired. When they saw how high the tower was, the frogs in the crowd thought the competitors would never be able to reach the summit. They started saying things like:

“‘Impossible! They’ll never make it.’

“‘Frogs can’t climb up something like that!’

“‘They’ll dehydrate before they get up there.’

“The competitors could hear them, and one after another they began to feel discouraged. Only a few went on climbing. The onlookers kept insisting: ‘It’s not worth it! None of them can make it. Look, they’ve nearly all given up!’

“The few remaining frogs admitted defeat, all except one, who simply went on climbing despite everything. And, alone, after a supreme effort, the frog reached the top of the tower.

“Stupefied, the others wanted to know how he had done it. One went over to ask what his secret was, only to discover that the winner . . . was deaf!

“So be careful, Camille, not to let yourself be influenced by the opinions of those around you. Don’t get discouraged. Even those who love you sometimes project their fears and doubts onto you. Take a good look at the people bringing you down and make sure they don’t contaminate you with their negativity.”

Claude’s words echoed in my ears for a long time and did their job. I couldn’t and, above all, didn’t want to turn back: I was too attached to my new career, and I knew how important it was for me to see it through. It was a question of integrity. So I symbolically put on blinkers and inserted earplugs, determined to keep pushing forward.