Hello everyone!
This week marks the closing of a beautiful chapter. My last 11 months in Austin.
At the end of this week, I’ll be heading to Healdsburg, California for a month, where I’ll be living at Edge Esmeralda.
Beyond that, my plans remain open.
If I were a betting man, I'd say I'll be back in Austin by fall, but I'm embracing whatever presents itself.
A few days ago, I messaged my landlady—for whom I have immense gratitude— that I would no longer be renting the airstream. Thank you Airstream (Jerry) for everything.
We parted with an agreement to stay in touch.
My current job isn't location-dependent, so I'll be taking it with me!
I wanted to share a few notes from my past week as I transition into this next chapter (don't worry, I'll keep writing).
101 Questions Before I Get Engaged
I've often marveled at my friends from Michigan who were in long-term committed relationships.
They spoke of partnership and the idea of marriage as something exciting and incredibly fulfilling.
But it was more than just talk. They invested time in understanding what they truly wanted from marriage.
To them, casual dating held little interest. They were enlivened by the prospect of finding a life partner.
I remember conversations where they shared how they would raise their children and how they communicated with their partners.
They talked about the foundation they built early on by asking pointed questions:
What does being in relationship mean to you?
How many kids do you want?
How do you see us both being involved in each other's families' lives?
And on and on.
I found myself fascinated by our conversations but never thinking that could be me.
Their maturity in relationships wasn't accidental. Since childhood, they had been considering these questions about marriage and family, and they continued this introspection into adulthood.
When I posed these questions to myself, I realized I had barely given them any thought.
Yes, I had always loved imagining what being in a relationship would be like and wondering where in the world my wife might be right now. But that was the extent of it.
Growing up, I believed I wouldn't marry until after 30. By then, I would have already lived a full life and would be ready.
The point being: I had time.
My unconscious belief: Why spend substantial time thinking about marriage and raising a family when I don't plan to get married for another decade?
Eventually, I realized that one of my greatest desires in this life is to be the best father and husband possible.
And ten years isn't nearly enough time to develop that understanding.
Note: I'll never fully get there. :) BUT, I can begin cultivating curiosity about what this might look like, rather than being guided by an unconscious belief that prevented me from even starting.
It makes my heart happy to even write that.
Last week, I spoke with one of my good friends from Michigan who talked about being in relationship with remarkable thoughtfulness.
He didn’t make it sound easy, rather he he made it sound real. A forever journey.
I ended the call with a sense that I needed to start asking myself these questions.
The following day, I visited my friend Danny's house in search of a new book to read.
I can always count on him to have wonderful books on his shelves!
As I browsed, nothing seemed to resonate.
I shared with Danny the conversation I'd had with my friend and my newfound desire to explore questions about marriage and family.
But I wasn't sure which questions to ask.
Returning to the bookshelf, a slim volume in the top right corner caught my eye.
It was no around three centimeters thick and perhaps 100 pages.
I pulled it down and began to laugh.
"I guess I found my book," I said, showing it to Danny.
He burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Its title: “101 Questions to Ask Before You Get Engaged”
Looks like I have my work cut out for me.
Could I Use Your Stove?
I laid my face on the dining table, exhausted.
“I’m going to have to go without food for tonight,” I thought.
Yesterday, I returned to Austin mid-afternoon after a long day of travel.
I had been with my family and am deeply grateful for them. One topic we discussed was regulating our nervous systems.
Holding space for our feelings and grounding ourselves when things go wrong or strong emotions arise.
I thought about this throughout my flight.
Upon arriving, I had a lot of work to catch up on and immediately headed to a coffee shop.
As evening approached, I was ready for dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day.
I got back to my airsteam and was ready to cook.
My fridge and stove are both gas-powered, with two propane tanks at the front that my landlady rotates as they empty, ensuring I'm never without gas.
I turned on the stove and the burner lit.
With each passing second, the flame grew smaller until it vanished completely.
I was out of gas.
Since I cook all my meals, I had no prepared food. Just raw meat, eggs, and vegetables.
I still wanted dinner and needed to find a working stove.
I had spoken with my neighbors across the street a few times before and mustered up the courage to go over.
I knocked on their door. No answer.
Plan B: The neighbor directly next to me, whom I was familiar with.
I approached his front steps and knocked.
Nothing.
Then I tried the woman living in the tiny home behind me.
No response.
I returned to my airstream, discouraged and contemplating a night without food.
I laid my head on the dining table and sighed deeply.
I was aware of my up-regulated nervous system.
I remembered the conversation with my family less than 24 hours earlier. Here I was, struggling to apply exactly what we had discussed.
It was one of those moments when I wished our conversations could remain theoretical rather than requiring practical application.
I took a deep breath and asked, "God, what are you inviting me to do in this moment?"
I had fully accepted that I would be fasting tonight.
Then I closed my eyes and began to meditate.
To my pleasant surprise, my good friend Nick popped into my mind.
Though it was getting late, I called him anyway.
He answered.
“Could I use your stove?” I asked.
He laughed, and fifteen minutes later, I was at his place.
Halfway through dinner that night, I paused to reflect that while this wasn't where I had expected to be, I absolutely loved it.
Thank you for reading another edition of The Fellowship! If something in this edition resonated with you, please share it with others who might find value in it.
Book I Read: Many Lives, Many Masters. I’m grateful it came into my world. A wonderful account about death, rebirth, and our spirit.
Thing I am Stepping Into: Standing my ground.
Peace and Love,
Ben