Another day in paradise
I woke up on Sunday morning to a beautiful sunrise in the east and then I turned around to behold the grand arc of a rainbow above me to the west. There’s this lovely Maroon 5 song that plays in my head on mornings like that:
Sunday morning, rain is falling
Steal some covers, share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
It’s a simple song. It looks like it’s three chords in the key of C, but see, that’s the mistake a lot of people make about things. There’s always more to beauty than meets the eye. Or the ear. I think that song is actually written in D Dorian mode, which is the key of D with no sharps or flats. It’s both simple and brilliant.
We spent the day doing absolutely nothing. In the afternoon we huddled in our home, enjoying it as if for the first time, as a storm threw rolling thunder across the sky and rain crashed down in torrents. This is what bittersweet means. We love this place and this town and this valley, and mostly we love all the people that have come into our lives and that have made this place our home for so many years. We feel crazy to leave it, and yet, we are crazy not to. We are excited to experience the unknown. We could stay and be relatively safe and secure but we won't. Not now. Not after what we've been through.
The Universe continues to unfold the pathway to Santa Fe and we live with amazement in our eyes each day. On May 5th Katie wrote about putting our house on the market and how crazy we might be to do it ourselves, but before the week expired, a lovely family contacted us. They are coming here from Moses Lake and our house is exactly what they've been looking for. Our timeline and theirs meshed perfectly. We were worried about getting the appraisal done in time because we heard that appointments were six weeks out, but today there was a cancellation and the appraiser came out and that's done. Just one more example of how the stepping-stones appear. It's like we have a flashlight shining along the way, just far enough ahead so we can take the next step, but not so far that we are overwhelmed.
Our friend who relapsed died suddenly. That was hard, and sad. And I'm still here. I have trouble understanding that.
Shakespeare called death,
"The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?"
I know, I know, literary experts: Hamlet was contemplating suicide here, but still, he has a good point. Is it oft fear that keeps us rooted to a place or a time or a circumstance? What if we cast off these mortal coils just a bit while we are still alive? We want to see a new place, experience new things, meet new people. We are acting on a whim, on intuition, we're making an emotional decision and we have NO IDEA what is in store for us. Our plans are paradoxically concrete and vague.
And yet, there is synchronicity here. The power of meaningful coincidence. We feel supported and loved and incredibly grateful.
Sometimes I laugh at our faux “bravery.” I’m reminded of the Monty Python’s “Career Guidance Counselor” sketch where the meek accountant wants to become a lion tamer, but the guidance counselor eventually suggests that he may want to get into lion taming, “via banking.” And I often think, too, of this guy that got divorced and then retired with about a million dollars in savings and pension benefits, and he moved back home to Cherry Hill, New Jersey, a place he said he’d never go back to. Katie and I threw up our hands in bewilderment. He could go literally anywhere in the world, and he chose New Jersey. Maybe sometimes we just fall back into what feels familiar. So, Santa Fe is not such a stretch. Somewhere between lion taming, banking, and Cherry Hill, I like to think.
We stayed home most of Saturday, too, but late in the day we decided to take a bunch of artifacts to Goodwill and then we stopped at the Green Lantern for dinner and then I coerced Katie into taking me downtown for a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone from Brights. She wouldn't let me get in the car with ice cream, so we took a walk and ended up at Plumb Cellars. Erika and Gary Winston were playing a rumba so I finished my treat and Katie and I danced swing and cha cha and rumba and when we couldn't think of anything else we just held each other and swayed and at one point I looked at Katie's face and she was crying and smiling and giddy and my God, I love that woman fiercely.
And that's what I was thinking about on Sunday morning when I watched the sun rise in the east and the prism reflection of light in the west and smiled to myself and said, "Welcome to another day in paradise."
I love this place and I hate to go. I am sad and joyous. That’s now weird or even a paradox. It’s just sweet, and bitter, at the same time.
Show your love and support for Joe.
Make a donation to CaringBridge to keep Joe’s site up and running.