Lake Calhoun--7:00 pm, May 1

On my own, Zen in my ears, focusing on the breath, thoughts of India.

I needed some time to process, so I headed to the lake with my iPod in my jacket pocket. With a San Francisco Zen Center dharma talk in my ears, I think that I really saw the Cities for the first time. The colors of the sky were so crisp, the sunlight on downtown as viewed from the southern side of Lake Calhoun looked so much more vivid and the apple blossoms almost stung my nose with an intensity of their citrus aroma. I was stopped in my tracks—the wind caught their perfume, sweet and citrus, vivid pink. Everything looked so clear for what feels like the first time, really seeing the lake, the skyline, the trees…present, fully in the moment. I’ve lived in the Twin Cities since graduating from Carleton—15 years now—and for the first few years all I wanted to do was find ways to leave. My wife on the other hand kept us here and agitated to stay. Slowly over the years we put down roots—date nights at Barbette, kayaking and swimming our Labrador in the city lakes, the bike trails, breakfasts at Birchwood, Nicollet Pothole ice cream at Sebastian Joe’s, our CSAs, reputations, a house, our routines. It all just sort of snuck up and then it was there—slowly like, well, roots. Now I’m getting ready to leave and feel the pull of familiarity and place and my wife is excited to leave. It’s not that I don’t want to go or have any less excitement about this tremendous opportunity, it just feels more complicated and this surprised me. Perhaps this is what it’s all about—don’t forget to look around at what you have, be mindful of the moment and appreciate the now, be present. Focus on the breath, if you wander, return to the breath…

Back at the lake my mind engaged—elation, terror, pride, longing, realizing how much the Cities are a part of me. Then I’m present again, then terror, breathing, calming…it goes like this the whole way.

I’m so excited, like my life just become a good deal more interesting, doing what I want to do. But in my gut there’s nervousness.

The letter arrives...

The letter arrived today--thin envelope. My immediate reaction was that, just like college admissions years ago, it's a rejection. Here's how it unfolded.

My family had been at the zoo all day celebrating my daughter's fifth birthday--hours of wrangling a gaggle of very active and energetic little girls. After walking in the door, I clipped my dog to his leash and stopped at the post box as we headed down to the park to play a little frisbee. I spotted the thin envelope and felt a little crushed but also a little relieved that at least the wait was over. Curiosity pushed me to open it, maybe an invitation to apply next year, other program options, but as I quickly scanned the opening lines my heart leaped in excitement and disbelief. I rushed through the rest of the letter, yelled to my wife and then ran in the kitchen door. "I got it!" I sputtered out--"I think I got it! I need to take Jack for his walk. Could you read the letter and tell me what you think?" I floated down our street grinning, thoughts racing. I made it back to our house and my wife was waiting, beaming, big hug and a congratulations whispered in my ear. I knew it was real then.