I was standing holding my broken brief case on a crowded subway car in Chicago. A lot of things broke in my life over the past few years so why not the strap on my twenty year old brief case. Luckily Rebekah had a rolling case so I’d slid my stuffed defunct one on top of hers.
Every brand of humanity is jammed into the subway with us. My butt’s literally in the face of the Indian dude listening to his I-pod with his eyes closed. Jim Withers is standing beside me talking and our noses were almost touching. Black kids gyrat to hip-hop, an old man carrying a new rug takes up a lot of space and a group of Asian students are awed by everything.
It’s been a while since I’ve done urban.
It’s always been a constant in my life. Watching people dumpster diving looking for food … Homeless men sleeping on subway grates ... Women pushing grocery carts piled high with their “belongings” ... lines of people outside of soup kitchens … the musty smell of mildewed apartments … aggressive panhandlers … the smell of urine …
I’ve done urban and for the day I was doing it again.
It didn’t take me long to get my bearings straight, to remain focused on everything that was going on around and to keep my guard up. That was normal for so long.
For the past year though, it’s been island living … laid back and casual … clear blue skies … miles of white sand … pelicans … the pungent smell of the marsh (which is the smell of sex in the tropics) … ocean waves … flat seas …lush shades of green … and a sad little holy dock.
I was struck by the contrast as we were making our way from the offices of the BeCause Foundation on West Randolph Street back to O’Hare.
It had been a series of very successful meetings and I suddenly have more opportunities than I did before. I’d had conversations and made presentations with a group of doctors, philanthropists, lawyers, and a homeless Vietnam vet with no legs in a wheelchair (the guy is amazing riding it down an escalator).
Everything about everything had clicked.
The night before the meeting I could hardly sleep. I was excited about the possibilities and the work. The future is coming to me.
Last night I got home at midnight after leaving at six a.m. but was wired. I didn’t go to bed until one. After a few hours of hard sleep, I lay there again, hardly able to sleep because of excitement. The future is coming to me.
Unlike the past, I’m determined to find a better balance this time. Urban and island should be in equal proportions. Give and take should be identical. Ying should match yang.
Now I sit on the beloved back deck talking to Fran’s thousands of green about all of this. It’s early morning and I sit here waiting, full of anticipation, joyous, and content. Goddess has her head under my foot as I write. The wind blows salt air my way.
And I smile.
The future is coming to me.
