Monday, April 15, 2013

Facing me

I keep changing.

David Bowie keeps running through my head. "Every time I thought I got it made, it seemed the taste was not so sweet. So I turned my myself to face me..."

It was about five years ago that I actually turned myself to face me.

When I did it was time for a change.

Let me tell you something. Change is damn hard. That's why so many people hate it.

The first thing I knew was that I didn't want to do what I did for a living any more. I was tired of it and there really wasn't much more I could do there. I told everyone so and not one damn person offered any words of encouragement or support.

It's one of the reasons change is so hard.

Nobody supports it.

But the funniest thing happened.  Though I went along with the crowd and stayed, subconsciously I worked myself out of the place. It took a year-and-a-half but at some level that I wasn't even aware was of, I was orchestrating the change.

When it finally happened, I was where I wanted to be in St. Martin with friends, far away from the shocked people and the press.  I was just as shocked but it was done and there was no going back.

At first, my response was "What the hell have I done?" and "How could other people have done this to me?" but the truth was it was what I'd wanted for a long time.

Running along the beach this morning, the tide was low and calm. Grey clouds hung low in the sky making the morning mute. White seagulls rested on the dark grey sand looking like a cluster of candles. Two little boys played on boogie boards in the surf. I am happy and content.

In the distance I see a friend running my way. He turns and runs beside me and we chat. Somewhere in the panted conversation he says, "You made all the right decisions Micheal. You just didn't know you were making them. Look at you know! You're running the beach on a lovely Monday and then heading home to lovely Sarah."

I laughed and he patted me on the back before we went in separate directions.

Last week I was introduced at the Moorehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta where I was giving a speech. It's always interesting when I'm introduced because it's like hearing your obituary. Life's highlights are reviewed. The audience was impressed.

I'm proud of my past. I've done a lot and think the world's a better place because of it. I really don't have any regrets. It's all worked out the way it's supposed to.

And I'm much better because of it.

I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Staring over at the bag of charcoal on the beloved back deck where I'm working. A happy man is on the bag grilling out. "Ready faster and burns longer."

"Yep," I say out loud. "Just like me."