The nun was right, we should climb every mountain. Like a horse.

It’s hard to believe I finally launched myself 7 months ago with such propulsion that I didn’t make like one of those early planes and crash just a few feet away. Admit it, there was that possibility.

Instead, I’ve been on a journey of incredible heights and vistas.

I have tried to figure out what allowed me to catch air, to balance weight and speed in such a way that I could reach a cruising altitude where even the turbulence was manageable. Honestly, even with my exhaustive uber-analysis skills, I just don’t know, and I don’t think I will know. This is the part where people start thanking God, or luck, or themselves. But I’ve decided to just maintain a general attitude of thankfulness. Thank you Divinity, thank you luck, thank you me, thank you tree, thank you air, thank you life, thank you Bangkok. Thank you, you.

It’s not that I’m trying to cover my bases. It’s that I think everything plays a role in our lives, and for me, the convergence of good friends, loving support, divine intervention and cosmic order, a caring family, amazing opportunity, pretty awesome kids, and a willing spirit to follow my instincts and take chances all deserves gratitude.

This week some big events have given me more fuel, more energy, to ensure me that I’ll have what I need, when the time comes, to make it back in one piece. Things that seven months ago didn’t seem possible, even two months ago made me cringe, and the attempts to figure out how I would sort them out made me lie down and hug a pillow. What I’ve discovered by tackling these things one step at a time, though, is that the cursed, crazy horse I rode through the mountains of Mexico was right. I fought with that thing for two days as Lillian and I tried to find, ironically, the promised land of Jordan. Seriously, it was called Jordan, and we were lost.

And that horse kept going without getting caught up in all the obstacles around us, without noticing that there were slippery rocks around us that could send us sliding down the side of a steep mountainside, or miles ahead of us with liquid heat waves and no oasis of water in sight. He didn't know we were lost.  He didn’t care. He just went forward, with no reverse throttle. If he had found he had no next step, we were screwed. But somehow, he always found one, and on we went.

Not to give away the ending, but (spoiler alert) we all survived and made it to Jordan and back. And I swear, as I got off and said goodbye and thanks for the near-death-experience stories I get to tell now, he gave me that look that could only be described as,“Oh, ye of little faith in me.” Then he turned and clopped away.

So, what’s happened this week? I’ve crossed three big mountain tops, one step at a time. I finally got my certification to teach in South Carolina, despite red tape snafoos and poo poo headed policies. We finally sold our house in Virginia, despite last minute changes and craziness. And Adam and I have come to peaceful, even caring, terms on our divorce and settlement. I am, of all those things I mentioned above, most thankful to him. Without his willingness to let me go on amicable terms and offer his support for my choices, the fall out would be different. I don’t even want to think about how much different, much less speculate in writing. Suffice it to say, “shudder.” I’ve been honest with you my friends about our problems, but I hope I’ve also maintained that our problems are not because he is a bad person. Because his generosity of heart and spirit, as I told him I needed to leave, are hard to find in this world, and it gets so much worse than this when families separate.

So now that he and I have settled our terms, and he knows all that is happening, I can share with my friends one other nice thing about this week as well. I got to spend a few hours on Valentine’s Day talking with someone I’ve grown very fond of over the last several months. You might notice a change in my status, I was a little unsure about doing that, but it makes sense now to put it out there. Some of you know him, and might be quite surprised that 23 years after I turned down his offer to go to prom together (note to Jeff: don’t wait until last minute to have a brilliant idea), I am crushing on him like I’m 16 again.

We are old friends, finding new reasons to appreciate and like each other. Don’t ask a lot of questions, because there’s not a tremendous amount to tell, as like he puts it,“it’s complicated.” But so are most meaningful things in life.   

I’ve given up trying to figure out what’s going to happen in the coming years, at least, for now. I had a plan for about the last 10- and it was all focused on getting to a great school abroad. I didn’t know what it would entail, exactly, but I knew how to pave the road, buttress my resume, get a master’s degree, and play the game to get me here. Then, come to find, I get just one year. So as I contemplate how that happened, I keep asking myself,as I have in my last blogs, are we all on a journey to a fixed destination, or are we actually all just thinking we’re looking for Jordan but actually, the journey itself is the point? And while I was sitting on that horse, cursing and poking it, tugging on the reigns as it snorted in righteous indignation, which one of us got that point?

Sawatdi bi mai, or HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A few obvious hints dropped by well meaning friends over the past couple of weeks to "update" this blog got me thinking about what I'd write if I actually sat down to lay it all out.  So many things came to mind that I had a sort of 'analysis paralysis' attack, and if you know me well, you know what a disaster that can be.  So I have been putting this blog off for several reasons, not the least of which was to save myself from having to sort through the last couple of months to find a theme, a topic, or even just an idea that I could articulate.But, then I realized that with all the constant change that we've been going through, and the upcoming changes as well, the only consistency that I can identify has been the inconsistency of our "home."  We left a home to make a home here, and are now leaving this home to make a home somewhere else.  In all of this, the kids and I are sometimes caught feeling like we're a guest in our own dwelling.
I love that Chinese expression (at least, a fortune cookie I once had attributed it to the Chinese), that "a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."  The thing is, tho, that expression assumes that a journey is a linear event, with a closed distance and measurable markers.  An example of that kind of journey would be driving along a highway and using the mile markers as your benchmarks.  "I'll stop to pee and gas up in 30 more miles," or "Yes, Cracker Barrel in 15 miles..."  Or even, "HOME in 500 miles!"
But the best, most worthwhile journeys we've all taken can't be reduced to such quantifiable and mapable (if that's not a word, let it be known, from henceforth, 'mapable' is a word) measures.  At 41, I can look back and see where I have extricated myself from places I've been with a single step, but that the journey I then embarked upon was longer, more complex, and covered greater distances each time than I could have imagined.  And usually, at one point or another, I was waylaid, detoured, even completely diverted from where I thought I was headed.  And at no point am I sorry about any of that.
So I thought, well, to be cliche, I could just be all meta-analytical about the changes that 2011 brought, or waxing philosophical about the coming changes of 2012, but instead, I just want to express my complete amazement that even after 41 years of incredible and unexpected journeys, I'm still enough of an asshole to think I can still chart my own course and see the future.  I still think that when I take that single step of what I know is out of something, with a quick consultation of my map of expectations and calculation of the distance to arrival point, I can of course also predict when I can expect to get there, as if I'm driving from DC to Jersey (hollah, Reimers!).
Case in point:  A year ago, I set about making myself known to this school here in Bangkok.  Then a few months later, I ended up taking a helicopter down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon to accept a job offer with the Havasupai Indian Reservation.  That's when I started this blog.  Some people I saw over the last couple of weeks in the states were shocked to hear that all this time I've been in Thailand, not Arizona (clearly, they're not on Facebook).  Because at the last minute, I was rerouted to this school here in Bangkok after all.  Go figure.  Did I learn anything?  Did I embrace the fact that one cannot truly predict our destination when take that first of a thousand (or more) steps?  Nope.
A month ago, my principal came to me with the news that I would not have a contract in this coming year.  As a special, late hire, my contract was only for this year, and continuation was contingent upon budget and enrollment.  Neither the budget nor enrollment for the coming year looked promising to him, so he told me this now so I could begin planning my next step.  My single step of a thousand miles, on a new journey.  A quick check of the map, my budget, and talking with the kids, and our plans have now changed to that of moving to Rock Hill, SC with my sister Jessie.  But where we end up I suppose is where we end up.  How we get there, the route and the obstacles, are yet unknown.  Where I work, where the kids attend school, how I will navigate the divorce and custody with Adam, and so many other things that I can't even wrap my head around right now.  Daunting?  Try, fucking daunting.
I am happy to enjoy the results of years of amibtious stepping, of confused and bewildered stepping, of nervous and cautious stepping, and of bold, courageous and defiant stepping as well.  I know that where I am right now is one step further than I was before and one step away from where I'll be, and I'm trying to embrace finally the idea that until I need to take that single next step, where I am is the result of all my efforts and the springboard for what is to come.

That said, all that cloying feel good sentiment as genuine as it is, I'm still tempted to take Talia's Snufflebunny from her while she's sleeping and curl up with it myself, as the expression "scared shitless" sometimes comes to mind.  Such a simple remedy, but one that yields about as much productivity as laying awake in bed wondering why I haven't figured out what this whole "BEING HERE" thing is and how it works, really.  Because I'd really like to know for sure where we're going to be.  It really would be so nice to see on map where my kids get to go to a decent school and I get a job that will pay the cookie bills, without having to ask Adam for anything but that he'd figure out what being a Dad actually means to his kids.  There'd be little icons that show where perhaps I can get really nice vistas of safety, joy and gratification.  But I know I'm not alone in this.  I know there are friends who want an icon that says their Cancer is gone, or that their loan is approved, or their husband comes home from the war zone.  There are an infinite number of little icons we would add to our maps if we could, but admittedly (every once in awhile) we can't.

So off we all go, at various times from various places, taking our single steps.  I'm just glad that at some point, long ago or recently, or both, our paths crossed.  Because if you've stuck with me through out this whole blog blah blah, then most likely, you're sticking with me through this journey and you are much appreciated.  Who needs Snufflebunny when one has such good friends.  Thanks for asking for this.  I'm so glad our paths have crossed.