Jeff — Letter #2

If only I could write a single sentence as beautiful as this flower. Photo by author.

Jeff!

I’ve been writing to you in my head all morning, finally decided take action with all those words yearning for my attention.

Because if there is one thing I’ve learned about writing, it’s that denying ideas fresh air and sunshine is like neglecting houseplants. You may be able to push off their care for a little while, but ignore them too long and they die. I’ve killed many a thought, and many a plant.

That said, I am nothing if not optimistic, and so am, once again, beginning go grow houseplants. It’s a new endeavor, but I have dreams of a regular jungle in my room within the year.

Geboingee — — (If anyone besides Jeff is reading this, you’ll need to know that “Geboingee” is our short-hand for changing the subject without worrying about transitions. As young writers, it gave us permission to bounce around our ideas with a freedom, rather than doggedly pushing through to conclude a thought before transitioning into the next one. Yes, we both know how to transition. No, I don’t want to right now.)

You were just texting me snapshots of your life with Debbie in Washington, and it is stunning. You two, together, have built a family that is clearly bonded and happy. You live in a verdant paradise, surrounded by nature. You fully committed yourselves to each other and worked through whatever you needed to work through in what, 30? 35? years of marriage to arrive at a point where you a still very much in love. And — this is big — you are aware and grateful for it all. Beautiful. Bravo! Bravo!!

You mentioned to that you and Debbie have a philosophy of “intentional luck.’ I’m very interested in hearing that strategy, which sounds so tangible, so overt. It made me start thinking about my own strategy for living, which is exactly the opposite: it’s primarily intuitive. I tend to “feel” my way through life. Although I do set general goals, I generally don’t have a plan in place to realize them. I set the goal(s), then get out of the way to see what opportunities arise, fully trusting that they WILL arise, because they always do.

Then, it’s just a matter of choosing options. When it comes to a choice, I always ask myself, “it this decision based on love or fear?” If it’s the former, I go for it. If it’s the latter, I step back and look at the fear. What is it telling me?

My approach to goals and decision-making can make some (most?) types of personalities very uncomfortable. Although I love data and research in business, it’s not as important to me in life choices. I’m not completely “airy fairy’ (as my husband used to say). If I am going to buy a house, I know what the market is. When I had the chance, I did NOT invest in a coffee shop because their financials didn’t stand up.

But when I decided to move to Hawaii last year with Mr. Childhood Sweetheart, I set the goal and expected to get there without an inkling of HOW. At the time, I had a well-paying job that I loved, lived 2 miles from work surrounded by country living, and lived with my mother and Caitie, my daughter who needs full time care. It clearly was not going to be easy making a change that would fundamentally affect so many lives, but I was certain it would happen. I committed to the thought and got out of the way. With surprising speed, events began clearing my path to tropical paradise.

Author enjoying her first taste of Hawaiian shaved ice. It was not the last! Photo by author

Although it didn’t work out in Hawaii — I am writing you from Mississippi, after all — it was an incredible experience and I have zero regrets for going. It was a tremendously steep learning curve of self awareness and growth, stripping me down to the core of my beliefs and forcing me to define who I am and how I want my life to reflect that. It was definitely one of the best, yet most painful things I’ve ever done. Now that it’s over, I have a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Maybe it’s how marathon runners feel?

Life in Hawaii led me to examine EVERYTHING I believe(d) about myself and my priorities. In the end, I felt the call to return home to Mom and Caitie, and to do that, we moved to Mississippi.

I’d love to tell you more about Mississippi, but I hear Caitie moving around in her room, so my morning quiet time is over.

Caitie joy. Photo adoringly by author.

“Talk” soon!

Ann