Bismark Park

Bismark, ND. I’ve never spent any time in North Dakota as an adult, so I decided to spend a night here on my return from Minnesota. I’m enjoying a hot chocolate at a little coffee shop (Terra Nomad) while I reflect on my recent visit with friends and contemplate what I want for my future—and how that has been shaped by my past.

My friend “Joseph” and I had a chance to have some great conversations late into the night during my visit and I’m once again confronted with the feeling of longing for infinite free time to spend with my people.

I’ll occasionally buy a lottery ticket—it is more for the exercise of hope for unrestricted potential. A blank slate for daydream imagination combined with a problem-solving panacea.

Minnesota is beautiful and green. Most of the little towns hit a lot of my dream-home buttons: sparse populations; tight and bustling communities; quality local shops, bakeries, and delis; well-maintained and cared for public spaces; beautiful old architecture; virtues of hard work, respect, honesty, and balance all clear and effortless. If there were mountains and milder summers (with fewer bugs), I’d become a resident tomorrow.

Is it possible to replicate the success of these dream conditions elsewhere? I kind of think it is. When I visited Germany and Slovenia, I got a similar impression (though it was admittedly a brief sample). Both of those visits included mountains, so what’s keeping me from moving there? If money were no object, I might be compelled to test out such a move, but ultimately the truly lacking variable would be my friends and family. At the end of the day, I need my people.

*Does that mean I should try to make my people (i.e. marriage and children)?

**Should I try to transplant my people to the same location?

***Should I find a way to be happy with limited access to my people?

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

It’s pretty easy to get discouraged about the state of the world and the apparent path we’re taking: political division…violence…extreme environmental effects…cynicism…depression…youth in revolt…and no apparent end in sight. We’re blessed to be in a time of unprecedented access to information, yet cursed with convenience without toil. Much of the world struggles to identify fundamental truth in morality or even understand the value of connection to one another. My analytical mind begins to spin with growing momentum with so many troubles without firm solutions and while I’m fully aware that the most productive activity is just to let go and enjoy peace and quiet, I feel like I need to find answers to these troubling questions. That’s my responsibility…isn’t it?

What if it isn’t?

What if my real responsibility is to exercise patience and chip off moments of understanding as I go?

What if that sense of security and protection I once enjoyed as a child without responsibility is still possible—as long as I can recognize where bedrock lies? There’s strength hidden within freedom…when you can choose how much a thing can hurt you…rather, you can choose to feel something stronger than hurt.

Trouble Closing the Door

After not hearing from Emma for a few days, she finally responded that she didn’t feel there was sufficient chemistry between us and she wished me luck for the future. We had had barely three dates in the course of eight months, so there was plenty we didn’t know about each other. She was also moving thousands of miles away and any continued courtship seemed unlikely. Realistically, the fact that she didn’t feel a spark should have been as good a reason as any to call things off.

Unfortunately, my heart didn’t agree.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that my imagination has a tendency to run away with itself, particularly when it comes to romance. I’m prone to “imaginary girlfriends” or proximity infatuations as mental exercises and daydreams. Too often I’ll create an image of a girl in my imagination that requires very little in the way of anecdotal support. These exercises are distractions and don’t survive much longer than the few moments I’m daydreaming.

When it comes to an actual relationship, I do a pretty decent job of checking my romantic brain at the door and actually discovering more about the real woman. I try not to assign any extra significance beyond what she provides and I try to let things evolve naturally. Most of the time, the results are similar to what Emma described and in the vast majority of cases, the lack of “spark” recognition is mutual. In this case, despite my best efforts, I felt myself imagining the future with Emma. I still tried to take things slow so as to avoid getting too far ahead of myself. In retrospect, my applying brakes to keep a slower pace may have resulted in my sapping the romantic “spark” from our interactions, leaving Emma with the impression of a platonic interest. 

If it’s true that my actions created a false impression, does that change anything? Doesn’t the fact that I was able to feel something that Emma was not evidence that even the fledgling relationship was doomed to imbalance? Should I still strive for a relationship of (close to) even pacing and balance? The fact that we were platonically compatible would definitely be a positive sign in a romantic relationship, but being friends does not necessarily translate into being lovers. The last thing that I want is to fall in love with someone who does not love me in return.

It’s possible that this was just another temporary detour as I continue the search for…whatever I’m meant to find. It definitely felt different from the rest.

Coffee Date

I went to visit Emma in Wyoming. She was in the area on a road trip east and we had a chance to reconnect. It got me thinking about the nature of our decisions in life—specifically our motivations for difficult choices. I tend to be pragmatic much of the time, but the real motivations seem to be self-preservation in the form of risk aversion and a measured dose of romance as a means of embracing freedom. Freedom. That is a concept that seems to be stitched into my soul. I find myself valuing freedom above most things…part of my risk aversion is to keep from excluding other possibilities. Do I value freedom because it allows for infinite possibility and hope or do I value possibility and hope because they are expressions of freedom?

Tough Mother

Visited my friend “Trevor” in Kalispell today. Trevor suffered two strokes just before this past Christmas and he is working on his physical therapy and recovery. He’s 35 years old.

When I first met up with Trevor, he was standing on his porch and I couldn’t tell if anything was different. After he started walking down the stairs, the mobility struggles became apparent with his left foot dragging and the stilted cadence of his gait. We went for a hike and he answered a lot of the questions I had on the way. I learned that he had two rare forms of stroke simultaneously that should have left him unable to speak or walk—making the progress he’d already made that much more remarkable. He still struggles with recall (though I didn’t personally witness any gaps) and his kinesthetic awareness for his left limbs. His vision is also impaired, but he has already seen improvement there, prior to any lens correction.

He was angry and frustrated with what he viewed as slow progress, but he also demonstrated his personal fortitude by predicting a full recovery. I mentioned that patience has never been his strong suit (a sentiment to which he claimed resentment, but also grudgingly admitted as accurate).

I felt much better about his condition and prospects after that one visit—he’s strong and determined and he has great support from his family and their local community. I’m looking forward to my next visit and witnessing the new progress he’ll undoubtedly make.