I am returned from my annual pilgrimage to the pacific coast. Those who are facebookers know this, as I posted some pix from my trip there. I did that here last year but now Facebook is the place for that sort of thing.
True confessions time: I have wanted a job on the west coast since seeing it for the first time twenty two years ago. Something about that rugged shore, those less than pacific waves, the striking intensity of the place, spoke to me. But try as I might, the offer never came.
I take that back. At the very beginning of my career, newly married and newly minted, the director of my employment office suggested I look into an assistant minister’s position in Santa Barbara. The presiding preacher needed someone to help out, especially with the large portion of singles in the church. My wife, who was an only child of elder parents on the east coast, said that she could not go that far away. Thus the only way I could have that job would be as a single person so to speak.
I made the right choice.
Realizing that many of your dreams will not come to pass is one of the signs one is moving from middle age to elder. It is a part of real wisdom I think. Every dream is a path we might take, but there is no time to explore them all. Along the majestic Pacific Coast Highway, for example, there are hundreds of places worth stopping and savoring. Having traveled its entire length I know this and that I will never spend enough time at each of those spots. Some will have to go unexplored. That I can understand this intellectually even as I still have the emotions of longing tells me I am not wise quite yet.