The business of starting over. Everyday. Like 12-steppers. . .maybe?
It's been a year since I've posted anything. Close friends can tell you the round-about journey I've taken, the road I've driven down, backed up, driven backwards, and parked on for a year, longer.
Skipping the details, the kids and I are living in New Jersey. I am managing (for the lack of a more intricate description) an art gallery/framing store. I'm having my first solo show this Friday after almost 2 years without showing any photographs anywhere. I'm nearly through a graduate degree in elementary education. . .a late-night decision I made a year ago because, well, I'm a single parent of three kids - teaching = aligned schedules with my kids and perhaps some viable income, especially up here in the northeast. But do I really want to teach? Did I ever dream of being a teacher? NO! A resounding NO! Sure, after college I thought it would be great to teach. . .college. . .not 3rd graders. And sure, I've home-schooled for a couple of years, but that was a totally lax approach, myself to answer to. But, nevertheless, here I am, with three kids in three different schools, working while they're in school, taking online courses, and, wait for it. . .driving the bus up to Jersey in April.
Yes, through a pyramid of rationalities, I will be flying into Asheville, North Carolina, to retrieve my long, long lost love and drive it to a farm around the corner from me, to re-paint, to complete, to usher the Idea long ago into a new phase, a New Testament.
As tempting as running away again is, and as much as I day-dream about taking my student loan and ditching it all for a long drive west and entertaining a story-book escape story, I have come to honor the journey, the renewal, the glory of keeping in touch with dreams, with ideals, with passions. Though they change (thank God) and morph and mature, the ones that remain must be spoken to.
Is it self-defeating to write in this space as if it's a diary, a journal for a therapist to search over, revealing weakness and confusion? I should be confident in my answer - NO - and I am. I have no idea what this bus will become. This bus as a concept, is far greater than a road-side restaurant; yet, I'm ok with that, too. . .for now.
After visiting my oldest and dearest friend in Honduras this summer, we entertained the idea of having a bus service in Central America. Why not? The ideas go on and on. The reality is simple. The reality is complex. The reality can be relieving or hindering. The process is the real Savior.
Oh yeah, and holding true to that which you believe. Which begins with, Belief.
