Dear Future: Leave me alone…

 

I was recently cruising at 30,000 feet on my way to Traverse City where we hope to eventually start the next phase of our life and I jotted down some of my thoughts as I headed to our new farm house.  Stream of consciousness; no editing.  I learn more that way….

While talking to a neighbor the other day, she asked me if I ever regretted building the house in Fraser and without one second’s hesitation, I told her no.  How many people can live in such a beautiful place just a few miles from a fabulous ski resort?

In a place where moose roam the neighborhood and the summers are full of glorious sunshine and wild flowers.

It’s a place where people look out for each other, due to the sparse population and the difficult terrain and weather.  I’m so grateful for where we live and for the past 13 years in Colorado.

As I rode the airport shuttle up and over the pass answering questions about our magical home from the visitors sharing the van, I had such a pang of sadness.  How do you leave such a place?

Why do you leave such a place?  My fantasy of living in northern Michigan is still just that; a fantasy.  I’m on my way to a home and homestead that I don’t know.  I’ve spent much more time there emotionally than physically, so I guess the next 10 days will be a step toward confirming or moderating that fantasy.

I’ve already mentally moved in and yet, I barely know how to get there or where the property lines are.  What is going on?

I have a tendency to live in the future; whether it’s my restless mind that can’t wait until my 20 minute meditation is up or my visualization of a future that features a new home 1500 miles away.  I have no idea why I do that and I’ve fought mightily not to, but  I suppose there is some comfort in believing I have a future to look forward to.

Some call it ‘wishing your life away’ and maybe that’s why I have found that my memories of the past 20 or 30 years are so opaque.  They almost seem like they are the memories of another person.  Was that really me?

Is it because in the midst of living today, I’m constantly projecting forward?  How do you imprint memories if you aren’t fully ‘there’, living them?

So, here I am flying toward what I envision as my future, yet I’m feeling some pangs of something.  Regret? Sadness?  I don’t live in the past, but it dawns on me that in terms of days, months and years, my past outweighs my future and that imbalance between past and future will only continue to grow.

So, the question is:  do I need to choose my next move carefully or with reckless abandon?

I’m a thinker and a planner and yet I’m flying toward a second home that I spent less than an hour touring before I bought it.  My reptilian mind or my inner compulsive teenager took over for a reason, so there must be a lesson here.

I’ll be keeping my eyes wide open for the next 10 days.