A week ago today I started a journey. On one level it was simple. Wake up and leave the house before the kids stirred but while the cat yowled. Drive two hours to Syracuse – the border is remarkable simple to breeze through at 7 a.m. Stow the matrix in a snow bank so big I couldn’t open the door, and make my way into the airport.
I flew, air trained, and three subway trained my way into Manhattan. At one point I had to pop above ground, the trains were making me queasy and I needed fresh air. I was also somewhat lost, so was glad I happened to surface at Union Square, into a Friday afternoon filled with sunshine and New York magic. My feelings of nervous anticipation were growing – not all related to the fact I still had miles to go before I could relax. Miles and days, or so it felt.
I was on a dual journey, really. Physically travelling but mentally preparing, queueing up questions, worrying about capturing enough information to be able to transfer and share with work when I got back. Anticipating awesome and fearing awkward (mine). I grabbed Starbucks, and more importantly, an outlet*. I pulled my copy of “What to do When its Your Turn” by Seth Godin out of my bag. I often use it like a magic eight ball, referring to it for quick hits of perspective and wisdom. There I was in lower Manhattan, after taking a couple wrong trains, close to being terribly late – and I opened it to a page that read:
“Not everything has to be okay.
Perhaps it might be better for everything to be moving.
Moving forward with generosity. Moving forward, with a willingness to live with the tension. Moving forward, learning as you go.”
I mean really. This book eerily talks to you when you most need it. Many a time I’ve picked it up looking for a boost or perspective and have been handed that and more. I stowed the book. Grabbed my latte and MetroCard. Continued to tootle my way across and uptown. The weekend turned out to be amazing. I came, I saw, I conquered, and along the way? I gave.
*note to self: get a phone that doesn’t shut off hourly