In the middle… continued.
Hello on Monday, December 14th, 2015. On a rainy Monday evening when I should be either working overtime or driving home with a ‘has-no-behavioral-boundaries’ Gordon Setter who, with every molecule of his eighty pound body declares his intention that he was born as a lap dog. No matter how much I protest or scold him. (He is slowly winning me over…I am belly-up when it comes to his overeager approach to everything in life – from attacks on the garbage to insistence on perching in the front seat). Yes, I should be on any of those tracks in my normal Monday routine, but tonight I have missed a teleconference meeting and I find myself in a familiar spot. I like these unexpected moments – I, four minutes late in a phone call, am unwired into the larger network necessitated by my attempts at modern business, drinking coffee to pay for my access (if in my own mind), all the while priding myself on getting here at all, wired to the “unwireable” only to realize I have indeed, gone full circle.
In the last weeks during my personal epiphanies of many sorts I discovered I like the middle and I do not wish to just survive as grateful as I am for having accomplished or being blessed at such status.
My life. My. Life.
Seems fitting on so many levels that I am sitting in a coffee shop as I had done years before – a different person but not really, in a December evening which should be snowy or threatening with snow. Instead the blackness of the night seems to cry joyfully at the chance to sparkle lights meant for ice and whiteness to rather dazzle off puddles on pavement. Odd how comforting it is – the weirdness of midwestern December rains and the gratitude and slightly off-kilter humor behind it all. It’s as if instead of traveling to a warmer climate Mother Nature decided to hop the Boeing to come to us.
On such a night as this, when the weather fools, and the dark fools one to believe it is much later than it really is and when I had planned to link-up, I am instead, writing. Just as I had years ago.
I had written, heartbroken and heart-breaking. Lonesome and shocked at my life. I miss writing. In the time since then….Well, I cannot hope to repeat the intensity of that writing. It would be like climbing Mount Everest then wondering why walking through the woods is not the same. Plain simple fact: It’s not the same. Not even a return to that Himalayan icon would ever repeat the experience.
No, I have found that keeping the mountain in ones pocket, patting it every so often and smiling silently to oneself is really the best way to remember….to never forget…..and to keep climbing!
…………
In my life what do I feel passionate about? My business. Particularly one of my buildings. This blog will be my personal insights in my journey as I dream my dream. I might write of past hopes and hurts as I lived them this past year, but I do not live there anymore.
Maybe that tale is the book?
But here, I write the bizarre tale of my experiences with my buildings and my business.
Well, here it goes….No more reaching out the side of the pool to test the temperature of the water… I was never that kind of swimmer.
I always made sure there was water.
Then dove straight in.
Side note: In the time writing I find, on this most lovely of unnerving evenings – like a gentle rollercoaster ride – a certain satisfaction that my smart phone has petered out its charge…
I smile openly and quietly in this tucked away coffee shop looking up to see the most intense young girl, hot chocolate drinking and wearing..
a crown.
Love and Blessings.
Stephanie.
My Matthias Building…
the brick dandelion 