Life can be so random. During a solo noodle lunch earlier this fall, I got caught engineering something odd, yet eminently practical, out of a bent wire condiment caddy and a Robert Ludlum paperback. My audience, an Über groomed businessman two tables over, was endlessly amused. I went on to tell him about a similar invention of mine involving corrugated plastic. His face went bright red with excitement at the ludicrously low material cost per unit. Plans were made, and I spent the next month perfecting and prototyping my design. Long story short, I found out the fellow’s company had filed for bankruptcy under some extremely shady circumstances – a mere two weeks after our meeting!
This summer’s blog hiatus taught me many things about life (a subject I still know embarrassingly little about), the above fiasco being only one of countless adventures. In our over-documented lives, we have little opportunity to go off the radar and explore our deeper selves without an audience. What with Facebook and cellphones, blogs and Twitter, we risk sacrificing these precious spirit quests in favour of availability, so easily misconstrued as accountability. I come back to you rested, dear readers, and inspired. I have passed the 200 page mark on my most recent novel project, and am pursuing a patent on my corrugated design independently, on my own terms. But more importantly, these few undocumented months have awakened me to certain inexpressible truths about love and the need for honesty when it comes to honouring our deepest selves.
“Are you OK?” my husband asked, when I told him about the bankruptcy.
I sighed. “Yah. But it’s weird, I’m not half as upset as I thought I’d be.”
As he wrapped his strong bear arms around me, and I lost myself in the warmth of his hug, I knew why.