To Mine and Ours

Photo from Graff World

One of the personality traits that I find myself most drawn to, that which many of my good friends and my husband all possess in spades and which I personally own very little, is a strong sense of navigation.  I mean this both literally and figuratively.  The loved ones in my life always seem to know exactly where they are going.  In some cases, I know this to be absolute fact.  In others, it's quite possible that I'm dealing with some seriously savvy game-facers.

In truth, I've always felt a strong sense of where I need to be in the moment; I've understood clearly when a position, relationship, house, or way of life was provisional, and yet, still recognized the value of being present under those very temporal circumstances.  Inevitably, the winds always begin to shift, and I can sense that it is time to shake things up.  It's how I applied to graduate school at the very edge of every application deadline: on an instinct that had been settling me over throughout the course of many months.  It's how I eventually quit a job that had been eating at my insides for years.  After months of convincing myself that I needed an alternate plan, I just allowed myself to walk away.  It's like a line written by Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises: "How did you go bankrupt?"  "Two ways.  Gradually, then suddenly."

I suppose it has inadvertently become a mantra: "gradually, then suddenly."  I think in many ways it suits me fine, as long as I'm able to recognize the gradual shifts before they snowball into major life decisions without warning.  But tonight I'm stargazing a bit.  I'm watching the loved ones in my life pursue their desired course with dedication and sweat and whole-hearted zeal.  And I'm knee-deep in my admiration of each and every one of them.