Signs on the Side of My Road

I am a woman of cycles. I get a thought or a feeling about something and often, for whatever reason makes sense, I shake it off. Then it comes back, again and again. It takes a while before I listen well enough or the message is loud enough to actually do what the Universe has been trying to tell me. Sometimes I drive by the signs on the side of my road of life without pausing to read what the options are down the side roads. Sometimes the cycles are short and sometimes they are years long. There's at least a dozen examples of this in my life that I could point to where these cycles and messages have played a huge role in how I've made decisions and why.

I'm in a cycle now about something I've been getting messages about for at least 12 years now. Again, in the past month, I can't stop thinking about it again. Remember this post? (Go look and come back. You need it for this story.) Yeah, I didn't really either, until I re-read it last week. I remembered having that whole thing happen, but not the details. (Reason #47 to blog.) I'm working through this again right now, and I've put pieces of what might end up being a plan into place already. I might be really serious this time.

Then, today, I found the handwritten version of what I emailed all my friends and family on January 28, 2001 from Thailand about the culmination of another cycle I'd been in for years as well. (I had pulled out my travel journal to get some notes about Nepal for a student headed there and this fell out this morning.) Here it is in its entirety:

Last July, my good friend Adam and I went out to Block Island, RI for the day. I'd lived there a summer during college and hadn't been back in about 5 years. The second I set foot on the dock I thought "I need to live on an island again - maybe I'll do a year here."

In 1996, my parents took Susan, Stephen and I on a cruise. The minute we landed on St. Thomas, I thought to myself, "I need to live on an island." I told my mother I was moving there after grad school.

I sat with Dr. Susan Komives at the University of Maryland 2 weeks before I graduated and asked if I'd be committing Student Affairs career suicide by taking a year off to move to St. Thomas. Not so much that I was burned out or not interested in S.A., but I kept thinking "I need to live on an island."

Becky and I arrived in Southern Thailand in October and began to visit island after island. Each one, I loved in a different way and I remember saying to Karen & Kelly, my new Vancouver friends, "I have to leave Koh Pha Ngan TODAY or I'm afraid I'll never leave."

I left. I ignored, AGAIN, the big ole sign on the side of my road that said "Stop here. Stay here. Live on an island."

Then I learned to dive. You all know from previous emails how much I have enjoyed learning this new sport and how much I've loved the challenge of it. What's the best place to live on an island and scuba dive? Thailand. Where's the best and cheapest place on the FACE OF THE EARTH to get further diver education? Koh Tao, Thailand. Where can I find a dive shop I already know and am comfy with? Big Blue Diving, Koh Tao.

The last time I looked, the sign on the side of my road said "STOP. STAY. LEARN MORE. BE A DIVEMASTER. HIGHER EDUCATION WILL NOT GO ANYWHERE." Below that sign was a little bitty sign that said (after I got close enough to read it), "Are you crazy?"

Screw that sign. I tore it down. It's gone. The big, noisy sign remains and so will I. I'm staying in Thailand, on Koh Tao, and I'm starting a 4-5 week Divemaster (the first professional level in diving) training. After that, I'll most likely stay here and work for a while (assuming they'll have me). How long? Not sure. 2 months? 3? More? I never know anything. And even when I do - like being SURE I'm going to South America - things change. This message is too loud to ignore.

I'll be back. No worries. They can't possibly pay enough in Thailand to keep me here forever, can they? :) Love & Missing, Karen

That decision was one of the scariest I'd ever made. And it ended up being one of the best. Perhaps THE best decision of my entire life. Imagine me if I'd NOT stayed in Thailand. I can't even do it. Can you?

I don't know yet what my decision will be about Children's Lit. I'm going to an info session (again) in June and I've made some financial move-arounds this week to start more aggressively saving money. I've checked out the lit classes I could take for free at Tufts this fall and next spring as self-imposed pre-reqs. I've done some research into careers (publishing, curriculum development, teaching). I've looked into loan information. I've talked with full-time student friends about how they've swung the finances. If I'm nothing else, I'm thorough.

Lots of people think I'm nuts, I know. I continue to change my pursuits even as I get older. I am seemingly refusing to "settle down" in any way that most people understand that term. I'm not normal. I've known this for a long while. But here's the thing. I still know, with all my being, that I only get one life. One. And I refuse to waste it. I want to do lots of stuff. LOTS. I have so many interests. So many dreams. So many "wouldn't that be amazing" thoughts. Why kill them? I don't care if I ever own a house. I don't care if I ever make lots of money. That gives me a lot of flexibility. I figure that I'll be working until I'm at least 70, so that's 33 more years of work. 33! And up to now, I've worked 13 years. That's only 28% of my projected work-life. So if I've got 72% still to go, I surely could make a change and it wouldn't be insane. And if that change cost some money this time around, so be it. I didn't pay for grad school the first time and mom and dad paid for college (bless them). I've never had a student loan before. There's a first time for everything.

Anyway, as you can see, I'm musing. I'm trying to figure out what this sign on the side of my road says this time. It's not visible yet. But I'm getting there. And this time, I'll surely read the small type too, to see what the caution is. And I'll make a decision. Stay tuned.