Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.
I wonder if I have the same strength. I hope for it. But lately I'm not sure.
--I started this post about 9 months ago and just quit. I couldn't plant my apple tree then. I wasn't even sure what MLK meant by saying such a thing. But now I feel like I've planted an orchard. Not too long ago Drew and I were considering a move back to Seattle. After some careful thought we realized it wasn't the right decision.
Our whole adult lives, especially together, we've been classic boho vagabonds. Dabbling in building careers but really with a zest for travel and experience. We've lived in several cities abroad for more than a year at a time, we've lived in several US cities only to move less than two years later. We never stay put. Our credit report is three extra pages longer to simply display our many addresses. Much of our excitement for life has been about the building up to the next big adventure, preparing for what was to come, anticipating, imagining. We only just realized that every city ended up exactly the same after a few months - from Prague to Chandler the baseline of everyday living wasn't much different.
So maybe it was us.
I recently read an amazing piece in the Phoenix New Times about the self-fulfilling prophecy that keeps our fair city from growing into a great cultural metropolis. The piece could be an exact metaphor for our experience. The writer points out that "Happiness is not about where you are but who you are." When I read these words, I was sent back in my seat. Pausing. Reflecting. Not that I hadn't thought this before in some way, but this was the first time it was so plainly stated to me. Each adventure was to be grander than the last, thus the adventure we were about to embark upon could never really be that great. We were fulfilling our own prophecy.
Less than one month ago, exhausted from floating, we made the decision to fall in love with Phoenix despite its imperfection. We chose to build ourselves here and grow some roots. To plant our apple tree, well grapefruit in our case, but you get the point. The strangest things began to happen after this monumental shift in attitude. Random financial windfalls found us, promotions were given, opportunities presented themselves, bounties were delivered; as if they were all waiting in a bucket for us just to open a door and have them spill onto our lives.
As I watch our garden grow full and luscious, I feel home for the first time. It would be easy to find things to be unsure about big and small, but I've got too many trees to plant to think about em.