LET GO OF WHAT'S NO LONGER SERVING YOU...
LET THE ROAD OPEN UP TO YOUR DREAMS...
Driving through each mountain town, I'm evaluating most everything today. The cops on the street, the cafe around the corner. I see how the simple coffee shop is branding itself in a "franchise-able" sort of way. Clearly this is the child of a retired entrepreneur from a big city. The simpler, sustainable way of life always attracts them. They come as mosquitos to a warm body, but much the same as the mosquito, they soon annoy their host. This place is so beautiful, so peaceful. Such a sense of community working together.
Then soon after the first year, dreams of domination take hold. "Why that coffee shop on the corner could be so much better with a consistent brand image." "This town would be so much more efficient if incorporated." If I were mayor, if I were God. Or maybe I'm reading too much into what appears to be a watered-down Starbucks recently opened in the heart of a mountain town. I don't know; my mind always seems intent on occupying itself with internal banter and bullshit.
(Someplace USA)
A neon light beckons in the distance. An "open" sign in the window of what appears from my view to be a normal residential house, just a block off of the beaten path in this one-horse town. With no particular rush and no place to go, I meander inside. As I walk through the screen door I realize that this is indeed a house! In the living room there is a built-out counter being manned by a tall, thin, early-thirties hippy. He has thinning long hair that seems to perfectly match his features and he is adorned in denim, flannel and boots. The chalkboard above him has the day’s delicacies written with multicolored chalks. Flatbreads and salads...interesting, fresh, flatbreads and salads. My request is for one flatbread of whatever floats his boat.
The chosen flatbread is one of mixed wild mushroom with white truffle oil and arugula. It's fantastic. Being that it's just me and the hippy in the house-taurant on this late fall afternoon, we soon fall into conversation.
The hippy tells me the story of an MIT grad who found a career in the computer sciences with a high-profile Boston firm. "I was miserable every day. My only solace was watching the Food Network and cooking. I soon quit my job that I worked all of those MIT hours for and started culinary school."
It seems from his story that soon after graduating he took a job as a pastry chef at a Vail, Colorado, resort property. A year into living in Colorado, he befriended a retiring San Francisco couple with a property in this small mountain town. They made him an offer. In exchange for caring for and rehabbing the property, which they would pay for, he could make a go of a small cafe concept that he had dreamt up. So here he stands in this mountain town, smack dab in the middle of his burgeoning dream. From the taste of the flatbread, I think that he may be on to something.
Amazing what happens when you put yourself out on the road.
The pavement appears before your eyes.
Ultimately as you wind the corners your destination becomes clearer in your sites.
Properly filled up, I bid my new friend farewell and wish him well in his new life.
It is time to head back down the road to nowhere.
When have you leapt without a net toward your dreams?
How did it work out for you?
(Road To Nowhere)
*This has been a selection from, The Journey Home. Authored by @CarlJohn