How did you get here?

–How did you get here?

Usually when I ask someone else this, they have responded with a flatfooted answer:

–By car; didn’t you?

–By walking. I was just around the corner.

–By flying, silly! How else do you get over an ocean?

It’s as if we’re so used to the feeling of not being heard (or wanting to be clever) that we can’t risk going with the deep answer first.

We avoid telling our story too quickly on first meeting. First impressions matter so much, and what if I change my answer later? What if what I think I know about my journey now is not what I’ll know of it later on? What if I’m in an awkward part of the story right this minute?

Luckily, being in the in-between doesn’t stop us from finding a deep connection, if we’re honest–and if anything, it enhances it.

And the day came when the risk

to remain tight in a bud

was more painful than

the risk it took to blossom.

-Anaïs Nin

So, I got here after 30 years of venturing outward from a small, rural town in Southern Appalachia, from a loving and complicated family, through such diverse jobs as chocolatier, Christian missionary, restaurant bookkeeper, and small-town wine shop owner, toward a union with something bigger that I have variously called Love, or God, or the Universe, or Creation, or the Human Family, or Christ, or Logic, or sometimes something I couldn’t have called anything at all. I’ve been looking for a thread, writing about a thread, trying to wear or make or buy a thread to connect it all.

I’ve been lucky or blessed or hard at work to find good people to walk beside. And, as I start off on another grand adventure, I’ve decided that this might just be the place to keep a record of the next couple of chapters for my benefit and maybe for yours.

Good thoughts of love and life always,

M

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