Breathing, Opening to Receive Guidance and Blessings: My Meditation Journey Through Paris

As my second week in Paris unfolds, I find myself drawn to spaces that inspire receptivity and openness. Paris is not only a city of external beauty but also a place where the spiritual and artistic converge, creating perfect environments for deepening my meditation practice. This week, I focus on using breath work to open myself to guidance and blessings that surround me in this magnificent city.

Building on last week's foundation of presence, gratitude, and breath awareness, I now explore how to create space within myself to receive the wisdom and inspiration that Paris so generously offers. Each location I visit this week serves as a unique gateway to different forms of guidance.

Sainte-Chapelle: Opening to Divine Light

My week begins at a beautiful church, renowned for its spectacular architecture. Arriving early to avoid crowds, I'm fortunate to experience this sacred space in relative quiet. As I enter, I'm literally stopped in my tracks—the towering structure and peaceful atmosphere create a cathedral of light that feels both overwhelming and deeply nurturing.

Finding a seat along the wall, I close my eyes briefly to center myself, then open them to fully receive the radiance that surrounds me. The meditation practice here focuses on breathing in light—imagining that with each inhale, I'm drawing in the radiance that surrounds me, allowing it to illuminate my inner landscape.

What strikes me most is how the light changes as clouds pass overhead, creating a constantly shifting experience. This becomes a powerful metaphor for receptivity—the windows themselves don't change, but their appearance transforms based on external conditions. Similarly, my capacity to receive guidance depends not on changing who I am, but on creating optimal conditions for reception.

I think of my son and his wife, who visited this chapel during their honeymoon. He had described it as "swimming in light," and now I understand exactly what he meant. I send him a message sharing this connection, grateful for the thread of experience that links our separate journeys.

Light Reception Practice

In my journal, I reflect on how this practice created a profound sense of connection to something larger than myself. The scenes around me—which tell stories of guidance, revelation, and divine intervention—seemed to speak directly to my intention of opening to receive guidance.

The Grand Mosque of Paris: Receiving Peace in the Garden

The next day takes me to another peaceful garden in Paris, a haven of tranquility in the bustling city. I spend several hours in this beautiful space, where the gentle sounds of nature create a perfect acoustic backdrop for meditation.

The garden's design embodies harmony and balance—carefully arranged plants, thoughtful pathways, and the rhythmic sounds of nature all create a sense of order that feels both human-made and deeply natural. This balance helps me explore a central paradox of receptivity: the need to be both actively engaged and passively open.

My practice here focuses on the breath as a bridge between doing and being. With each inhale, I actively draw in the peace of the garden; with each exhale, I surrender to whatever guidance or blessing might come. The alternating rhythm creates a beautiful dance between effort and release.

I think of my generous Parisian host, whose hospitality has been such a blessing on this journey, and sitting in this sacred space deepens my gratitude for the way he has opened his home to my best girlfriend and me.

Garden Receptivity Practice

My journal entry from this session notes how different this receptivity feels from my usual goal-oriented approach to meditation. Rather than trying to achieve a particular state, I'm simply creating space for whatever might arise—a practice that feels both vulnerable and deeply restful.

The Louvre: Receiving Artistic Inspiration

Midweek brings me to the Louvre, where I take a different approach to meditation. Rather than finding a single spot to sit, I practice a walking meditation through selected galleries, focusing on how art can serve as a conduit for guidance and inspiration.

The key to this practice is selectivity—the Louvre's vast collection could easily overwhelm. Instead of trying to see everything, I choose just three departments: Egyptian antiquities, Greek sculptures, and Italian Renaissance paintings. In each area, I allow myself to be drawn to whatever pieces speak to me, then spend time in contemplation with them.

Before a serene Buddha statue from the 2nd century, I practice receiving the quality of equanimity. In front of masterpieces like the Mona Lisa, I open to curiosity and observation. With each artwork, I contemplate the blessing of human creativity and expression.

Throughout this artistic pilgrimage, I maintain awareness of my breath—inhaling the qualities each artwork embodies, exhaling any resistance to receiving these gifts. The museum becomes not just a collection of objects but a living repository of human wisdom and inspiration.

I think of my son and his wife, both art lovers who spent days exploring these same galleries. I remember his recommendation to visit early on a weekday to avoid crowds, advice that proves invaluable as I find moments of genuine solitude even in this popular destination. I send him a photo of a particularly moving sculpture, continuing our shared appreciation across distance.

Louvre Artistic Reception Practice

In my journal, I note how this practice transformed my museum experience from intellectual appreciation to something more intimate and personally meaningful. Art became not something to merely observe but a living conversation partner offering guidance unique to my current life journey.

Sacré-Cœur Basilica: Opening to Higher Perspective

My week concludes with a visit to another iconic Parisian landmark. The journey here is itself a meditation—approaching this magnificent structure creates a physical metaphor for rising above everyday concerns to gain a broader perspective.

After exploring the interior, I find a spot with a panoramic view of Paris. From this elevation, the city's layout becomes clear—the streets radiating outward, landmarks rising from the urban fabric, the distant Eiffel Tower standing sentinel.

This vantage point offers a perfect setting for a meditation on receiving guidance through expanded awareness. When we can see the bigger picture, patterns and connections become visible that remain hidden at ground level.

My practice here involves breathing with the horizon—inhaling as I expand my gaze to take in the entire cityscape, exhaling as I notice particular details. This rhythm of zooming out and zooming in helps me cultivate a receptivity that encompasses both the universal and the specific.

I think of my friends in Oregon and my supportive partner back home, imagining how I might describe this view to them. The distance gives me perspective on those relationships too—seeing their importance in the larger landscape of my life while appreciating the unique details that make each connection special.

Perspective Practice

My journal entry explores how this practice revealed patterns in my life that I hadn't previously recognized—connections between seemingly disparate experiences, recurring themes that point toward my deeper purpose. The physical elevation translated into psychological elevation, offering clarity about my path forward.

Musée d'Orsay: Receiving Beauty Through Contrast

For my final meditation of the week, I visit another of Paris's great museums, where the juxtaposition of classical architecture with modern elements creates a fascinating study in contrasts. The building itself—a former railway station transformed into a world-class museum—embodies the theme of transformation that has been emerging in my practice.

Here, I focus on how contrast can enhance receptivity. Just as the modern elements highlight the beauty of the classical features (and vice versa), the contrasts in my own experience—between effort and surrender, structure and spontaneity, solitude and connection—can deepen my capacity to receive guidance.

Finding a quiet bench in a gallery of Impressionist paintings, I practice a meditation that embraces paradox. With each inhale, I welcome one quality (such as clarity); with each exhale, I welcome its apparent opposite (such as mystery). Rather than seeing these as contradictory, I experience how they complement and enhance each other.

I think of my best girlfriend traveling with me, whose approach to Paris has been so different from mine—she's drawn to fashion and cuisine while I'm focused on meditation and spirituality. Yet our contrasting interests have enriched both our experiences, offering each of us perspectives we might have missed on our own.

Contrast Reception Practice

In my journal, I reflect on how this practice has helped me reconcile seemingly contradictory aspects of my spiritual journey. I've often felt torn between structured practice and spontaneous experience, between seeking guidance and trusting my inner wisdom. This meditation reveals that these aren't opposing paths but complementary approaches that can work together harmoniously.

Weekly Integration: The Art of Receptivity

As my second week in Paris concludes, I spend an evening integrating these varied experiences of receptivity. Sitting on my host's balcony as twilight descends over the city, I reflect on how each location offered a different gateway to guidance:

• Sainte-Chapelle taught me to receive through beauty and light
• The garden showed me how to create peaceful space for reception
• The Louvre revealed how art can serve as a conduit for wisdom
• The panoramic view offered perspective that clarified patterns
• The museum demonstrated how contrast enhances receptivity

I realize that receptivity isn't passive but requires active preparation—creating conditions that allow guidance to flow freely. This involves both internal work (cultivating openness, releasing expectations) and external choices (seeking environments that naturally evoke receptivity).

I've begun a new evening ritual of reviewing the day's experiences through the lens of receptivity, asking: "What guidance was offered today that I might have missed?" This simple practice has revealed subtle messages in everyday encounters—a conversation with a shopkeeper, the timing of a rainstorm, even a wrong turn that led to an unexpected discovery.

My best girlfriend and I have also started sharing our "guidance moments" over dinner, which has deepened our connection and highlighted how differently guidance can appear to each of us. What comes to her through intuitive hunches often reaches me through sensory experiences or meaningful coincidences.

As I prepare for my final week in Paris, I feel a growing integration of the practices from both weeks—presence and receptivity flowing together in a continuous dance. The foundation is now laid for my week three focus: gratitude for life's blessings, which will complete this transformative journey.