Sunday, May 4, 2014

Day 280 of 365

Time is an illusion. 

I am completely and utterly convinced of this

It was only a few days ago that I wrote the February 14th entry of this blog, and yet, according to the calendar, my cell phone, and the local news, nearly three months have passed. Impossible!

Of course, a myriad of events have filled in those fictitious weeks between now and our last meeting. I pleasantly, joyfully, and successfully closed out my career at sea, waving farewell to two years of enriching experiences, places, and especially people. The memories will endure forever, and I know many of the relationships will as well. Thank you Mother Ocean, you majestic beauty! Life as a seafarer was brilliant.

During those illusive weeks I also opened a new chapter of my life, entering back into the world of operations, leadership, and contributing to the “big picture”. My mind and body are alive every time I approach the building where I now work, and every new conversation makes me feel like a kid in a candy store, my senses vibrating and my thoughts firing in rapid succession. I know that I am in the right place at the right time.

And thanks to some new friends and exposure to a wider variety of writers and philosophers the soul that is my true essence has also stretched during this interval, expanding towards the future, while fully embracing the notion that the past is the past is the past. My heart is filled with joy, warmth, and gratitude, and my spirit is alive and smiling. 

What does all of this mean for MJWL? 

Like a trusted friend who knows when to intervene, and when to step aside and allow life to play out, Rachel and Leo, Alex and Lea, my faithful and valued allies in this quest, have patiently waited for the dust of life settle, for big chapters to close, and for others to open. They knew they were not abandoned. They knew their story was, and is, alive and well. I thank them (and those readers who have been checking in) for their collective patience.

So here I am again, feeling the flow of creativity streaming though my fingers, ready to complete the soul stretching story that lies within. Speaking of stories, one day on the mountaintop Leo opened up to Rachel and shared one of his own…

I was only ten years old when we moved to the plateau, but I remember falling in love with it immediately. The space, the summer breeze, the view, it was all incredibly peaceful. Chief Dan George used to say “The beauty of the trees, the softness of the air, the fragrance of the grass speaks to me.” Growing up in the dust covered village I never understood what he meant. But Rachel, darlin, when I walked the property for the first time with my father, the Chief’s words echoed in my ears with great clarity. The plateau spoke to both of us.

We bought a stretch of acreage right at the peak of the mountain, close enough to town to find the supplies we needed, and far enough away to give us the peace my parents were both looking for. The land we purchased was, at first, nothing but blunt rocks, a bunch of random trees, and layers of twisted scrub brush. The man who sold it to us thought we were a bit odd for choosing that location over all the others. But my father had vision, and where others could not see past the wild bushes and acres of weeds he could picture paddocks, and a barn, and beautiful pastures with horses grazing on sweet grass. He saw paradise. He saw our home.

Leo never left that beautiful land that spoke to him at age 10.  He was home, and always would be.  For you see, deep in his soul, Leo did, and always  would,

Believe in forever.



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