In the Knowing of the Unknown

It’s pretty great to be writing in this blog again; the ritual of journaling and posting takes me back to 2009. (Our honeymoon)  P.s. I am no writer; these posts are my thoughts and likely have many errors ;)

As the trip begins, I feel so many feelings, but a few stand out.  Peace, gratitude and pride.   Peace in our decision with Bren’s career.  Grateful to have the past couple months to reconnect with Bren and be able to start the travels re-connected.  (We lined up a few vacation sets prior to the travels.)  Grateful to spend this time and grow with the kids.  Proud of aligning our truth and honoring that truth.  

There have been many moments in the past few weeks that have brought much peace.  Coming to this career decision was not an easy decision.  There was a lot of unknown and uneasiness.  The past few months have consisted of assessing health, asking the hard questions, the back and forth between peace & anxiety and being down right scared.  My mind was flooded with questions: Would Bren find fulfillment?  Would I be able to support him in the ways he would need?  Would this bring a loss of identity that could lead to depression?  What would our relationship look like in this transition? (We’re not used to having Brendan home)  And surprisingly (especially for my personality) financial fear was the last thing on my list of fears.  We have set the foundation of financial freedom and feel supported in that realm, and yet of course it still crossed my mind.  They were all fears of the unknown.  

So if the fear was in the unknown, what did I know? And did the unknown need to be so scary?  

I know Bren’s health needs to be prioritized.  I know the physical strain I saw when Bren walked through the door after coming home from the station.  I know he was typically sick, that he had a cough going on 2 years and the lack of sleep from the constant mandatories was unsustainable.  I wasn’t sure how he was living; I wasn’t sure of my own health as a single mom most of the time.  I know the kids didn’t get a great version of Bren and I.  Luckily we have incredible support and wonderful role models.  I know we are open individuals and doors have and would continue to open up for us.  I know time and time again we have chosen to trust in love and in each other. I know we teach our children in the choices we make.  I know the unknown is scary and yet I know the scarier path would be to stay put.  To watch Bren’s mental and physical health deteriorate and our family continue to disconnect.  I know we made the right decision.

There was a moment in Mexico this past May as we were sitting and chatting with friends about our experience and priorities and they mentioned the Mexican parable about the fisherman.  We didn’t know that parable.  He went on to share it with us and it very well summed up our thoughts and feelings.

The Mexican Fisherman and the Investment Banker

An American investment banker was taking a much-needed vacation in a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. The boat had several large, fresh fish in it.  The investment banker was impressed by the quality of the fish and asked the Mexican how long it took to catch them.  

The Mexican replied, “Only a little while.”

The banker then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?  The Mexican fisherman replied he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked: “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman replied,

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos: I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The investment banker scoffed:

“I am an Ivy League MBA, and I could help you. You could spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats until eventually, you would have a whole fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to the middleman, you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You could control the product, processing and distribution.”

Then he added: “Of course, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City where you would run your growing enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But señor, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied: “15–20 years.”

“But what then?” asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said,

“That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You could make millions.”

“Millions, señor? Then what?”

To which the investment banker replied:

“Then you would retire. You could move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

Bren and I have it all: Love, family, food, passions and a home.  Why were we chasing what we already had?

The last few months have been some of the most eye opening. This travel and time with our kids feels like a gift.  Currently I am enjoying the flexibility of life (something Bren is very good at and continues to teach me.)  Having boundaries within the flexibility that allows us to seek our passions and bring health to us as individuals and as a family.  We are feeling both scared and at peace as we embark in these life changes of uncharted territory.  We are doing it together. 

I am really feeling myself when I dance these days.  The lens I'm seeing the world through has shifted.  I feel free.  I am putting healthy boundaries in place.  Bren and I lock eyes; amidst a room full of people and our eyes say “We’re doing this.  How did we get so lucky, I love you.” 

Maybe it’s in the knowing of the unknown.