Nathan was a man of habit. He found himself often eating the same food and wearing the same clothes. He tries to fill his time with the things that are more meaningful. Lately that has meant cooking himself breakfast, meditating, reading, journaling, and talking with other people. Helping some folks with their stuff while reaching out to others for help with his stuff. Nathan has a small group, mostly family, but he keeps them close. Although not geographically close, regular phone calls with grandma are necessary.

The plane began to roll back after about twenty minutes of Nathan being seated. He felt like it was pretty quick in relative terms. He was one of the last people to board. He often wondered if getting on the plane first or last is better. Since he’s gotten a little more flying experience under his belt, he ran an experiment over the years. He would wait in some instances until last call, and there would be no line. This seemed to work. There were a couple instances where there was no longer space for his luggage in the overhead bin. It had to be checked. Boarding first is slightly less stressful for him, but it requires being early. Nathan was rarely on time. It became a battle of the stresses in some instances. Stress to be early to board first, or stress because of the middle to last boarding process with maybe no space for bags.

It wasn’t until this flight that Nathan had a realization. While the plane rolled backwards, he asked himself, what if I just let life come and not stress either way? He thought this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of each approach. He went back and forth over the merits of putting pressure to be quicker, the efficiency, the ability to relax later. And that’s when it clicked in his mind. He was hit with a flash of insight and a flood of memories to support this new hypothesis. The ability to relax later, he repeated in his mind. This was the downfall of it all. The question continuing without answer is why not relax now. He tried to think of an answer, only to realize he was trying to defend his current lifestyle because, for him, the relaxation always came later. He chuckles audibly, laughing at his own duality, noticing the glance from the person sitting next to him. It is a full flight after all. The plane ride will be long. Nathan hopes to find joy in these once-in-a-lifetime moments. He thinks that maybe he can relax now because he is right where he is supposed to be.

Hana cam to this island a couple years ago. She’s really a lovely personality and a lot of fun to be around. She loves to dance randomly and to go out dancing. The girl has a free spirit, and she has a bubbly charm that presents like mature innocence. Her belief in herself was something she had worked on for years.

Hana moved to this island after a nasty breakup. Her ex-boyfriend was verbally abusive, and he made her feel like she wasn’t pretty or enough. He really did a number on her self esteem. Hana cut all contact with him because he was constantly putting her down and trying to bring her back into his hectic life. She opted for a simple life with a job and some friends. This all went well for a couple months. Until her ex showed up at her new job. He made a big scene, yelled and screamed at her and the other staff. he scared the staff, the customers, and her with this look of rage he could get. He left without incident on that day, but she knew something had to change.

Hana often thought back on those days. She thought about the person she used to be. While she sat at home on the island journaling, she replayed that day in her head. She replayed a few days in her head. The move to this island and the decision to stay are not as simple as she ran away from an unsafe situation. It may make for an easy story to tell, but life is rarely that simple, and her mind continued down this road of thinking. What was she doing, what was the goal when she started? These are what she was asking. It had been a couple years. She reminded herself that she didn’t need all of the answers today. She took a moment to breathe. Ahhhh as she released an audible, relaxing sigh.

Hana had a yoga class to teach in the next hour. There wasn’t any rush because the studio was just a couple minutes walk away. She wanted to prepare for this class though, as she always did. Hana has a ritual of going through the class once quickly on the mat, remembering her cues, going over the intention, and feeling through the class. She has found this approach to deepen her own experience and makes her better able to teach. The preparation is her super power, and that’s what she tells herself. Nobody else knows how much work she actually put in, but she knows. She can be proud of herself and carry her head high. That’s a skill Hana picked up along the way. She didn’t start out so confident.

Hana had a flash in her mind that gave her a little excitement and panic. She remembered that Nathan would be in her class that afternoon. They were speaking that morning about the cafe idea. She secretly wondered if she even wanted to do that, but it sounded like a great plan. She figured she could go along with it and back out of involvement if she doesn’t like it. As she thought through it, she was just introducing people. Running the cafe was Nathan’s dream, she thought. She was just helping someone along their journey.

Goodbye turns into see you later, never turns into let’s give it a try, tomorrow turns into yesterday.

Nathan decided for himself this journey would be a silly one. He thought about his nevers and alwayses. He considered all the things he’d done or said to hurt people, slightly comforted by a follow-up thought about all the people he helped. Nathan takes a deep breath in through his nose, with a final sip at the top, holding it for a couple seconds before slowly releasing the breath from his mouth. He repeats this process three times. Each time feels remarkably similar, or exactly the same, as the mini-brownouts he tried to describe once. Maybe this is the feeling when people say breathing exercises feel like drugs.

Nathan’s mind is quieted from the chatter of pondering about the negatives. The breathing exercise is something he picked up from a couple different sources. All the people describing this same method of breathing, all of them with different science or spiritual reasons. That was enough for Nathan to actually give it a try. He had a reluctance to the types of holistic ideas that he once criticized. His preconceived notions and judgments kept him from giving any credit to these types of healing practices.

Nathan spends his days with much time to sit, think, and meditate. He has taken his yoga practice almost too seriously over the past months. Certainly that’s just an overcorrection from Nathan’s trauma. He hasn’t really given it much thought since it all happened. Nathan kind of just got quiet and went to work. He didn’t write long letters. He didn’t cry endlessly. He didn’t sit around the house. He just accepted the fact and kept going with life. It was a remarkable feat. If we asked Nathan how he did it, he might give us a different answer.

His answer might provide a glimpse into the private world where his writing wasn’t revealed, he imagined a million different times each way he could have done something to change what happened, he agonized over every detail, every word, and grieved every lost possible future. This grief didn’t show on the outside. He quietly got the work done. He made the plan. Nathan didn’t announce this plan to the world. He told a few close people about his plan to travel, but there was no social media post. It was not public knowledge. His journey was his to experience. Nathan believed that he could share things that happened, after the fact. No updates about what will happen (unless it’s a booking he thought).

He wasn’t feeling very silly yet. And it became time for a little juggle dance session. A silly dance mixed with a decent juggle, perfect recipe for a smile. That’s just what Nathan needs before this flight. A week away is sounding pretty good about now, and starting with a silly smile is the right way to start.

Nathan doesn’t know yet that this one week side-quest will turn into the main quest. He doesn’t know how juggling and smiling is the first step to his new life. The next steps were unimaginable to him at the time. He was trying to write the end, but it’s never the end. He was only writing the beginning.

The four months wasn’t the plan either. It was from a week to a month after four days. The week didn’t feel long enough. Nathan had to change his voicemail greeting, settle in, and look into different visa options at the end of that month. At the end of that month, he decided he would do his teacher training the following month. He got his yoga teacher certification, then he kept up his daily yoga practice at a local studio. He starting teaching some yoga, but there’s not much money in it at the beginning.

Nathan has now been here for four months, and the cafe idea is now what he’s thinking about. While he sits and stares at the page, the words that other thing stand out to him, and his mind goes to the past. He is transported to the other side of the world, memories of another life, feeling like a lifetime ago. He had a partner, and after making serious commitments, she left. He was left to pick up the pieces of what they’d started. It feels like a miracle in hindsight they didn’t have children, but there was good long period where that felt like a missed opportunity to stay connected. The business, another way to stay connected. A friendship, just another way to stay connected. Nathan realizes that hindsight brings the clarity and presence he wished was present in those moments where he needed it. His realization has come in many forms, and today’s doesn’t bring tears like it did last year.

The memories are stuck with him, but today, instead of torturing himself for mistakes, he reminds himself of the lessons learned. Nathan is quick to speak kind words to himself, you’re were doing your best, good job learning those lessons and getting through that, I’m proud of the progress you’ve made, no stress, no rush, just keep going from here.

Nathan learned through a lot of work how the past can be a tool to shape the future, and the future can be a tool to shape the present. He can’t claim that he understands much of this, but he ponders while sitting and staring at the rest of that page. He writes, I found myself at a crossroads again. The world has asked me to trust someone. I wonder if I am able to trust myself this time. I wonder how I can trust myself. I wonder how this other person will make things better. I wonder how much better life is going to be now. Whoa now, let’s not get so grandiose with life being better. It’s an exciting new plan, and the work sounds like fun today. How will we handle it when the work is not fun anymore? How will we handle our friendship if we stop having fun? Lots of questions, and all I know is that it will all work out because we just keep moving forward and having fun along the way.

As he looked up from the page, he noticed, in what felt like the first time again, the aliveness of the world around him. The people were going somewhere, all seemingly in a hurry. Bicycles, motorbikes, scooters, and cars were hustling through the streets, and no shortage of people walking either. It was as if the streets had their own life, and the people were only a part of how these streets experienced their days. Each individual unique, each moment unique. Nathan let his mind wander for a moment on these thoughts. He looked in the busy street and got lost in the seductive dance of the traffic patterns. He was snapped out of this trance when the waiter came by to ask if he needed anything.

Nathan asked for one more coffee and to pay the bill. He likes to pay the bill and get a final drink so that he’s not rushed to leave, and he can leave without notice when the time comes. It is typical for Nathan to pay the bill long before he is ready to leave. The prepayment gives him a perceived freedom. Probably some childhood traumas contributing, but today isn’t the day for healing the inner child.

The waiter came back with the coffee and the check. Nathan had cash, so he paid and tipped the young man bringing the coffee. Now, he can add sugar to his coffee and sit for another minute to drink it.

Nathan added the single packet of sugar to the coffee. There’s a system, one cup means one sugar, and that is adjusted accordingly. Although a double espresso still only receives one sugar. He made this system up years ago, and it serves his shorthand well, even if he gets strange looks when asking for one sugar, white sugar if possible. If he had more money, Nathan might be described as eccentric. Unfortunately, he’s kinda broke so people might think he’s a little special instead.

Nathan stirred the coffee and looked around again. The rush of the street faded by now. It was a moment, and that moment will stay with him, but the moment is gone. He sees the other tables lining the street. He’s not the only one sitting outside drinking coffee in this town. Nathan has tried to learn the local language but not with a purpose. He only got through the basics. He has justified this with not wanting to muddy the waters with his other language learning. He thinks it’s reasonable. He’s not looking for ways to be able to do it all. This is enough.

He is looking for ways to deepen some of his yoga practice. These thoughts run through his mind as he sips his coffee. He also gives his imagination the permission to dream about the cafe. It will have outdoor seating, like this one, of course. It will have those kind of folding chairs that we can bring inside when it rains, and when we close. The indoor area will consists of about 10 tables for four people each. Then it will have a few booths. People will come and visit and spend time with each other in the main dining area. We will have an open space in the back. It is outdoor, but it is covered and doesn’t get wet when it rains.

The covered space out back is used for small yoga classes. It fits a teacher plus eight student mats. Six students is a little more comfortable, but the classes are usually packed when Hana or Nathan are teaching. There will also be events held in the space. When there is no class, there will be a concert or a game night, trivia night too. The cafe serves very light food. This is mostly sandwiches, and there are a couple items that work well in the microwave. But mostly, the coffee and the drinks are the main drivers of the business. The cafe turns into a bar in the evenings. The bar is packed with people after their yoga class, locals relaxing after work, and tourists looking for a good vibe. The regulars aren’t just one group.

A honking car brings Nathan back to this moment. He had been sipping the coffee and didn’t realize until now that it was empty. His fantasy had taken the whole of his attention. For now, the coffee was done, and he had places to be. His afternoon yoga session was coming up next. There was no rush though. Nathan had more than an hour to show up at this class. He was ready in his current clothes, and his mat was already there. He set himself up for success, he remembered. That was all part of the plan, and he gave himself a little pat on the back, thinking to himself, Thank you for thinking ahead, Nathan, good job.

Nathan left the coffee shop with a little smile and a spring in his step. After all, he grinned even wider, Hana teaches today’s yoga class.

May you be happy.

May you be healthy.

May you be safe(ty third).

May you live a life of ease.

I am remembering the silly dance moment in the kitchen. I am smiling and looking forward to the silly moments to come. It really is fun to be alive and be silly and have confidence that no matter what everything will be okay. I am loved. I have time. I can live any life I choose. I choose this life and this path.

Writing a story from the imagination… Hoping this brings a smile to all those who dream with me…

After several months on this island, he has gotten to know a few people. The trick he always used in a new country was to find a couple local places to become a regular. Once becoming a regular, after about a month, people will start to notice him and open up. He did that same thing here and that’s how he met Hana. Hana is a yoga instructor who has lived on this island for about three years, maybe a little less. She has a bubbly personality and will just talk to everyone. She had the confidence of a much older soul. She knew herself, she knew what she wanted, and what she was talking about. She also knew what she didn’t know and wasn’t afraid to admit not knowing. She made it her business to be nice to everyone she met. This young lady, who presented like a mature woman, has a heart of gold and a rolodex of contacts that shocks the imagination.

Hana was able to help our young Nathan. Nathan showed up on this island with the goal of personal development. Finding himself is too cliche a term for what he was doing. He was creating himself. In objective measure, Nathan was still young, 39 years old. He didn’t feel young anymore. His body ached like a man of thirty years more, and his mind was fractured like that of a wartime veteran. He hadn’t been through war in a traditional sense, not recently at least. But he had been through a different type of war. He had been at war with himself. His mind could not seem to rest, and after trying all the apps and practices and therapists he could find, he decided he needed to live a different life. The quote that rang through Nathan’s head was that to get something he’d never had, he must do something he’d never done.

Nathan had an idea that popped up once before, and it has come back a few times since. The idea was that of a simple life. He thought about how he liked cappuccinos, he liked taking care of his body, he liked meeting new people and having regular people to connect and grow with. He thought about how much he liked to be a regular somewhere. Maybe that’s the name, Regulars Cafe.

Oh man, it could be awesome, he thought to himself and nearly yelled out loud. It can also be something that grows to be bigger than just him. Nathan would have ideas like this, and he would even write them down or get started on something. Then he abandons the idea when something else comes along. This cycle had been plaguing him for a while. He didn’t want to keep moving from one thing to the next. Even if the timeline felt long, 2-5 year increments, the next increment is always just another thing to do. The sticking power through any one of the increments could have yielded results, but he jumped ship because he “changed his mind.” Legitimately, he has changed his mind and realized that he wasn’t willing to do the work necessary to get there. There is space for Nathan to move around. No one is questioning that, except Nathan. Others have said he is living the dream, but he doesn’t know what dream that is. He just wants a simple life with a family. All the glitz and glamor aren’t the real moments of sitting on the couch with the baby. This simple life is fun and silly. It is filled with dancing and laughter. Nathan’s family is a beautiful group of individuals connecting and supporting each other through life.

Nathan had to learn what this meant through a process of trial and error. He didn’t have any role models of what this was like. He was simply trying his best. He recently discovered that fiction novels contain some of the secrets to how people might treat each other, and it can give insight into how people perceive such things. This has been the outside perspective Nathan was looking for, but didn’t know it was hidden in these novels.

Now that Nathan had been reading and doing daily yoga for a few months, his mind and body were clear. He remembered the past experiences, and he remembered his idea of a simple life. What if Regulars Cafe popped up in that empty space in the town center? How do I get this to where I can use it for a cafe and maybe a bit of yoga in the back?

Enter Hana. She had been around the area for a little while. She was calling this home, and she knows everyone. Nathan met Hana a couple months back at a yoga class. He sees her around town several times per week. It just so happens they speak the same language. Nathan has been studying for a few years, and Hana is from there. They recently got to speaking in that language. It became their secret language. It also became a great practice for Nathan to keep up speaking. Through these daily connections, they built a friendship.

That’s why Nathan thought of her first when he thought to open Regulars. The business idea was presented to Hana one afternoon while discussing over a coffee. They were both regulars at this particular cafe, and the staff knew their names and orders. Hana got a cappuccino without dairy though, soy or oat alternative, and Nathan got the dairy version with a little sugar. Nathan drank three or four of them in each sitting. He often debated on learning how to make them at home, but he enjoyed the experience of being there so much that he’d rather spend the extra money. After sipping her coffee, Hana got that smile on her face that crept in when she was thinking about something exciting. She was excited about Regulars Cafe. She loved the name, and she loved the concept. Her mind went into overdrive thinking and listing all the people in town that could help. She knew a builder, she knew the government staff, she knew the neighbors, she knew other cafe owners who would help with supplies, she knew someone that had all the equipment to start a cafe, she knew everyone they needed.

Nathan had saved a little bit of money. Luckily money goes farther on this island. It is a stroke of luck that everything fell into place. It felt almost too easy, but it was 5am wakeups and showing up to get the deliveries and doing the work with the builder, and sweeping the floors in the evenings, it was all that work, that’s what needed to be done with joy. Doing the simple tasks on a daily basis keeps the spirits up for Nathan. The dream was still a dream, but Nathan had traveled the whole path by now. He was 20yrs down the road in his mind. Hana became his wife, they have two kids, boy and girl, they run the cafe, they enjoy every moment of life, and their kids are about to leave the island and go find their place in the world.

They lived a life of joy.

Nathan snaps back to the moment, sipping coffee with Hana. Hana had no idea that he just lived a life with her in his mind. Hana has no idea about what could be. The work to get there is still to be done. Here is the journey, here is what we’ll do along the way, here’s how we will have fun, here’s what I’m doing, do you want to do it with me? That’s Nathan’s general pitch to Hana, on the business idea that is, the kids and family portion can come later. He doesn’t want to scare the girl off on day one. He would want to have the conversation with her about how she might see a future.

The second thread to his thought is not about the life together, but it is about the conversation they will have about their life together. He will listen to how she wants to be loved and cared for. He will listen without defenses or judgment. He will also understand that it is not that he is doing anything wrong. It is just that she prefers it another way. He will listen to what that other way is, and he will do it that way.

Nathan catches himself again, deep in thought, not present. He apologizes to Hana for not listening. His brain runs off in imagination mode sometimes, and he isn’t present when that happens. These daydream moments can be fun, and they must be treated with kindness. His brain works in mysterious ways because he is now laughing about thinking about listening so well while not listening in the moment. That’s a bit of irony that is not lost on Nathan.

Bringing himself back, again, to the conversation with Hana. They start the groundwork on what will become a future they create together.

The future is bright. Everything is possible.

I will say first that there is nothing to be embarrassed about. I do not think any less. I ask for honesty and openness.

I thought honesty showed respect. It might be that for some honesty feels like danger. There is no danger here. You are safe to be honest with me, and that’s the heart of the problem I have been discussing.

I must be careful not to embarrass people. I see how I have done that. I did that. I caused embarrassment.

Dang, was I just raised different or what? How did I get so crazy?

I am writing this one and throwing it out there because I saw how my words caused embarrassment.

This guy says to me that if he called me out for lying, and he and I both knew I was lying, that I would deny it. He did seem to imply that I was lying about something without actually telling me I was lying. He didn’t embarrass me. I would have loved for him to embarrass me.

In close relationships, it is important not to embarrass the other person. Was that why I was blamed for breaking things? Would the little girl who did break it be embarrassed and so she lied (talking about my childhood)? How do I say the thing without causing embarrassment?

There’s a skill to learn. I will just call people out, and they get offended, or perhaps embarrassed. Is there a better way to not embarrass someone?

Compliments and questions, those are the thing. It feels fake to me. Is it fake if it works to get the result? It would be fake if the compliments were not true. It would possibly save the other person the embarrassment.

This is an interesting topic to explore. Have I been embarrassing people?

We talked for hours the first time we met. She was interesting, and she seemed interested in my stories. It did not matter that we both had commitments to other people. She was married, and I was not ready to accept that I was free from my marriage. A friendship grew on that day, and it was such a blessing there was no pressure beyond the friendship.

She reminded me of someone I loved. And, as it turned out, I reminded her of someone from her past.

She told me life was meant to be lived. She shared that her husband did not understand that idea of living life. He wanted to work all the time, take a vacation once a year, and then go back to working. She explained that his goals did not reach much further than that.

As I listened to her, I heard part of myself in the man she described. But I also heard some distinction. Because my actions cut against that strict working ideology. I could sit and talk for hours about life, as we were doing. I could talk about the sunrise and how it makes the birds sing. I could talk about lessons learned in books, about yoga, about training, about the strange way I can keep learning the same lesson until it finally becomes part of me.

These conversations mean something to me. These conversations are part of living life. These are the conversations that allow me to connect with others and truly see another person.

I found it fascinating to listen to her story. She had lived through hard things and did not seem to give herself much credit for surviving them. I gave her credit. I give people credit for the things they carry quietly. I give them credit for living through the things they rarely explain.

The conversation changed when she offered to answer questions about how women think.

I asked a simple question.

“Why don’t women ask for what they want?”

She said women often feel they should not have to ask. And if they are asking, it may already feel too late.

I did not understand that.

So I listened.

I asked more. She kept talking. She was patient enough to stay with me until I could begin to understand. I shared the ways I had done this wrong. I had revelations in that conversation. I may never see her again, but the connection was strong in that moment. We connected on life. We were there, together, talking, not rushing toward anything else, and time passed without either of us noticing. It was easy.

Eventually, I looked at the clock and realized hours had gone by. But I learned something in that time. I also had the chance to practice a lesson I learned from another. Connection can be destroyed by rushing away or appearing upset that the time was spent talking. I’ve done that before. I treated important moments like interruptions. I made someone feel like the clock mattered more than the connection.

I used to be ignorant and blind to the effect this would have. I don’t do that anymore. I didn’t do it that day.

I may never see this insightful lady again. Maybe it was only a conversation on the road. Maybe she arrived at the perfect moment to hand me a lesson I was finally ready to receive. Not everyone who changes me is meant to stay. Some people arrive, open a door, and keep walking.

Some people come into my life for a reason. Some stay only for a season. And then there are the rare ones who feel like the whole lifetime.

That conversation did not give me a lifetime. It gave me a reason to examine my idea of love. It made me question whether loving someone meant protecting them, providing for them, and trying to make them happy from my own assumptions, or whether love required something much harder: listening and observing closely enough to understand what they want, even when they don’t know how to ask for it.

For a long time, I thought love meant I was supposed to protect and provide for the woman beside me. I thought I was supposed to be strong enough, steady enough, capable enough, and useful enough that she would never need to worry.

The woman I will spend my life with does not need me to make her whole. She is already whole. She does not need me to provide for her. She can provide for herself. She does not need me to protect her. She can protect herself. She may still have her worries or insecurities. It is not my job to fix that. It is my job to see her, understand her, and make sure she knows that she matters more than anything else. In essence, I’m out here trying to be an emotional support husband, not a service husband. She doesn’t need me to do it for her.

But I am starting to understand something else: I need someone too.

Not someone to save me. Not someone to fix me. Not someone to carry what is mine to carry. But someone who can stand beside me and hold the softer parts of me I don’t always know how to hold myself.

I used to think that made me weak. The part that makes me laugh upon realizing this: my protecting the woman beside me made her feel like I thought she was weak. How fitting that it all comes full circle, and the thing I didn’t want is what she didn’t want, and for the exact same reason. That’s the idiot part coming back again.

I do not think that anymore.

That old idea of love was built around what I could do for her, and what she could do for me. I neglected the being part of what it means to love. A common phrase I hear is that we are human beings, not human doings. Cliché, yes. Appropriate, still yes. There’s nuance and truth in every cliché. I will try to parse the nuance for my own learning and not dismiss it entirely because I don’t like the phrase. Simply stated: keep the lesson, even if the phrase makes me cringe.

Love is not only about what a person does. She will do great things because that is who she is. I celebrate what she does. And I love who she is. It means loving the woman behind the accomplishments, the challenges, the failures, and the goals. That’s the part I messed up.

Apparently… I messed up a lot.

I looked too much at the doing and not enough at the person underneath.

When I did not see the person clearly, I tried to shortcut the process. I filled in the gaps with what I thought I knew. Men are this way. Women are that way. Masculine means this. Feminine means that. Easy explanations. Easy categories. Easy little jokes. (I’m seeing a pattern of trying to find an easy way. Y’all see that too?)

It made me feel like I was understanding, but I was not listening. I was not doing the hard work. I was looking for a shortcut to the solution instead of doing the slower work of seeing the person in front of me.

Men and women are different. Not better or worse. Different. We think differently. We carry things differently. We ask differently. We hide differently. We protect ourselves differently. But deep down, we are the same. We are human beings who happen to be doing this life thing. It’s our first time on earth.

I used to joke that women were crazy. I thought I was being funny. Some women would laugh and agree, others would get deeply offended. I thought it was just an admission that I did not understand how women think. I understand now that jokes can still reduce people, classify people, and hurt in ways I didn’t intend. A joke can become a shortcut. And we don’t do shortcuts, remember?

People are individuals. Any category, even a funny one, can become a lazy way for me to stop listening.

I want to listen. I care enough to listen. My jokes closed my ears, and they closed the conversation. The joke became the conclusion. It was the easy way. That’s not listening. That’s not trying.

The woman I spoke with encouraged me to keep trying. She told me that women sometimes say things they don’t mean. My man brain wants to find an answer in this about women, but it likely applies to us all. I can certainly apply it to myself. I think what she meant is that people sometimes say the thing that hurts less instead of the thing that is most true. Sometimes the full truth feels too dangerous. Too likely to be judged or belittled. Too exposed. Too scary. Vulnerability is scary.

I am making daily efforts to be the kind of man who invites vulnerability, a man who encourages people to speak despite the fear — a safe space. I am inviting connection through vulnerability, understanding, and safety. When I am vulnerable myself, others are more likely to be vulnerable in my presence. Openness invites openness.

I am starting to understand why someone would stay silent: Fear.

This may be a good time to state the most unnerving realization: I’m not the only one who is afraid. I thought my fear was unique. I thought it was born of my particular wounds, my failures, my defective mind. I was afraid to ask a question because I was afraid to answer the same question. I have faked it. I defended when I should have admitted. I hid instead of being seen. I made my fears look like confidence, logic, wisdom, or strength. I wore a mask.

I think about how I will be judged for my thoughts. I think about what others would say if they knew everything in my head. I think about the feelings I don’t want to explain, the fears I don’t want to admit, the contradictions I don’t want held against me.

I am afraid of what will happen if my thoughts and feelings are known. Other people feel the same, and I cannot judge another person’s courage. It would be me sitting on the sidelines if I were asked to show the same courage. I sit on the sidelines and stay silent in my own life. I am the coward in many situations, and I hide that. I distract, defend, obfuscate, or make excuses in an effort not to be seen in that moment.

The other person has no more control over the existence of fear than I do. This is a human condition. The degree or reason may be different, but I am no different and they are no different in this respect. I have this fear too. When I second-guess and question myself, the other person is likely doing the same thing. We build walls, we defend, we attack, we lie. And I thought it was just me.

I was blind not to recognize that my fear was not so different from theirs.

People are people.

We want to be seen. We want to be appreciated. We want to be known without being punished or judged for what we share. My head judges me enough, and getting it from someone else only presses those buttons even more than I was already pressing them myself. The learning here is to treat others with this same gentle kindness.

I return to the same tension: men and women are different. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, but don’t we share the same Sun?

There may be differences between men and women. Maybe women often want to be praised for who they are, and men often want to be praised for what they do. Maybe that is biology. Maybe it is culture. Maybe it is conditioning. Maybe it is all of it mixed together.

But even that is too simple. Women also want to be appreciated for what they do. Men also want to be loved for who they are. None of this is black and white. It is a spectrum that shifts from person to person and moment to moment.

So maybe the answer is simpler than I want to make it: See people for who they are and what they do, without judgment.

See the doing. See the person. Love the person. Celebrate both.

That is where I failed before. I praised effort, usefulness, accomplishment, action, service, and strength. But I did not always stop long enough to praise the person beneath all of it. Batman messed me up here. Bruce Wayne was told that it’s not who he is underneath, it’s what he does that defines him. There is truth in that, but not the whole truth. This idea followed me further than I realized.

I thought I was trying to understand women. Maybe I was learning to understand myself. Maybe I was learning how humans protect themselves. What I was really learning was how to recognize the human being across from me. The more honestly I looked, the more I saw that things I thought belonged to her alone, or to me alone, belonged to us both.

Fear of judgment. Desire to be seen. Wanting to be appreciated. Wanting to be loved for who I am, not only for what I do. The masculine and feminine are not wholly distinct. They live in all of us, mixed in different measures, showing up differently depending on the moment (a very intelligent woman taught me this). Real connection begins when I stop treating the other person like a mystery to be solved and start recognizing the parts of them that are also parts of me.

The woman I will spend my life with is not a mystery to solve. She is a person whose depths I will discover slowly, with wonder and care, until the deeper parts of us begin to recognize each other and grow together. She doesn’t need to become someone else to be loved by me. She doesn’t need to earn my love by doing. She doesn’t need to perform her worth. She doesn’t need to prove anything. She is kind, brave, caring, intelligent, beautiful, and good.

I recognize those things because they exist in me too. Game recognize game. No proof necessary.

When she does great things, I remember that her greatness did not begin with the thing she did. It began with who she is. Who she is includes the road that made her. The struggles she survived. The fears she carried. The difficult choices she made when no one was watching. The ways she kept going when life did not make it easy. What she does matters, but what she survived to become may tell me even more.

I took my sweet time to learn the lesson of seeing the person. I learned this the hard way, the painfully slow way. I fought against the concept. I think I fought it because I was afraid to see such things in myself. I was afraid to look at how I survived, and that refusal to see myself became a refusal to see the magnificent person in front of me. My stubbornness and fear made it take even longer. I am late, yes. I took my sweet time, yes. But hey, it’s my time, it’s my journey, it’s pretty sweet, and better late than never.

This is where I am now.

But where I am now is not only the clean lesson. It is not growth and understanding if I stop here. It becomes another mask. I am not done. There are still the shadowy parts of myself I don’t want to look at. The tendencies to protect the fantasy. The thoughts that still hope. The parts that are afraid to tell the truth because the truth might finally make the loss real.

If this journey is to be honest, I cannot stop at the lesson that makes me look wise. I must keep going into the shadow and shine light on the thoughts that make me uncomfortable. I am afraid, yes. Let’s keep going and get to the other side.

There is fear underneath this, and I do not like looking at it. I do not like saying it, which is why I have to say it. I have to admit the fears to face them.

I am afraid to admit that I may have been writing to a ghost.

Not because she is dead, but because the version of us I have been writing about may not exist anymore. The future I imagined may not unfold. But I saw something real in her, and I recognized her soul from the moment we met. I question my vision, and perhaps I loved what I wanted to see, what I hoped, what I believed was underneath the fear. Maybe I was right, or maybe I was wrong. Maybe both are true. I don’t know. I know she is a great person. I do not question that.

I will stay curious rather than turn my fear into a verdict. Was the relationship actually safe, or did my fear of not being enough make it appear unsafe? I am afraid that choosing safety means I am abandoning my love, my dreams, and myself.

It is difficult to say that the woman who gets the benefit of these lessons may not be the woman I lost. I am afraid to say that I may not be holding out for her anymore. I have moved on. And I have not moved on. Writing these words scares me because it makes them true in a way I cannot take back.

There is another fear underneath that one.

Something in me has changed through this writing. I am no longer afraid that I would not be enough. I am afraid love would not be enough. It would need something more. Not perfection. Not just an apology. But ownership, healing, and responsibility. I am also afraid to address the hard questions, and the answers may not be enough. For a time, I thought I would not be strong enough to slow down if she returned. I was afraid I would rush back in because I loved her, because I missed her, because I wanted the dream to be real. I am a dreamer after all.

I’m beginning to see that love without a standard is not love. It feels more like fear. It could be a fear of abandonment. More likely, it’s me trying to keep the dream alive by pretending the dream would not require both of us to grow.

That hurts to admit.

I do not want to stand above her. I won’t dismiss or belittle her. I won’t turn my growth into a weapon. I won’t try to win. I want her to win.

I also cannot pretend love means lowering the standard until the relationship can survive. That is not love. That is fear wearing romance as a costume. That makes both of us smaller so the dream can survive. Perhaps that version of the dream was never meant to survive.

There is the possibility that the woman I love with all my being was only for a season, there for a reason, but not for a lifetime.

She’s coming back, right?

Probably not, my friend.

But wait, she’s my best friend!

Sorry, buddy, she’s not anymore. Love would let her go.

I hate that.

I don’t need answers. I don’t need encouragement. I don’t need to talk more. I need a hug.

At the start, I wanted my growth to be the proof. I wanted this book to be proof. Proof that I listened. I changed. I am worth a second chance. I finally became the man she hoped I could be. I’m sure she became the woman I knew existed within her. But growth cannot be used that way.

Growth stops being growth the moment I turn it into evidence. It becomes performance. It becomes another argument. Another attempt at winning. Another desperate attempt to be chosen.

Conditional growth is not growth.

There is no such thing as becoming a better person for nothing. Growth is not wasted just because the person I wanted to show it to may never see it, may never care, may never come back. I still have to become the man I can look at in the mirror. I still have to be true to myself. I still have to take the next step in my own life, not because there is a reward waiting on the other side, but because the step is mine to take.

The truth is, I don’t know what I am doing.

I am building theories out of pain, regret, hurt, conversations, books, yoga, meditation, memory, love, hope, happiness, and whatever courage I can find in that moment. Some of the theories may be incomplete or completely wrong. They may just be the latest version of a lesson I will have to learn again in another form. I’m kinda waiting for the lesson to come back again, seems to be a recurring motif.

But this is where I am now. I am not writing from the mountaintop.

I am writing from the climb.

From this point on the climb, I can see a little more clearly where I’m going and what comes next.

Whoever my wife is, she will get the benefit of these lessons. I am doing this for me, I am doing it for her, and I am doing it for our children. I also want a daughter one day. Maybe I get two daughters. Maybe a son. Maybe I end up in a house full of women, and God help me, I better learn how to treat them all with the highest level of respect and dignity. This is the right path for me.

I don’t want the woman I love to change. Please don’t change. Please be who you are. I only hope that I can provide a sense of safety for you to be you. I will encourage her to grow more fully into the woman she is becoming every day.

I did not change through these lessons. I grew. I did not grow so I could provide better or protect better. I grew so the woman I love could be more fully herself beside me. I lacked understanding before, and where understanding is missing, love can unintentionally become pressure. It can make someone feel like shrinking is safer than being fully seen. I do not want that. I want my love to make room. I want her to feel safe enough to grow, not small enough to survive.

I will keep growing. I will encourage her growth too. My aim is to support the growth, not fear it. She will make her own decisions and live her own life. My love should not make her feel smaller. My presence should not make her feel limited. My truth should not feel like criticism disguised as honesty.

I will speak truth. But I will speak it with care. With love. With patience. With kindness.

I know she is on her journey.

I am happy just to be on the same road, walking with her, holding her hand, stopping to make love in that beautiful grassy field, making damn sure she has that special smile on her face before we continue, and walking the rest of the way, for a lifetime, together.

We make each other better through our love and support.

Life is hard.

And just like coffee without sugar, life without a good woman can be bitter.

She does not have to ask.

I know how to make her day a little sweeter.

I left the beginning the same because it fits. But this is a different story. This one is something else.

________________________________

“Hey, sweetheart! I can’t wait until I see your beautiful face again! I look forward to holding you in my arms.”

“Babe! Why can’t you just say you miss me?!”

“Okay, okay, I do miss you, but you know how I feel about that. haha. I miss you so much!”

“Good! Because I miss you too. When are you landing in Zurich?”

“I get there the day after tomorrow at 11:50a. My plane lands and then I have to get my luggage. Then I’m heading straight to the apartment. I know you’ll be in class until the afternoon.”

“Yeah, the training for the day ends around 4p.”

“Do you need anything? Can I have something ready for you when you get home from training?”

“No, just you, clothing optional…”

“Haha! Yes, ma’am! I will give you a massage when you get here because I know the training is tough on the body.”

“Oooh! I’m excited now! I can’t wait til you get here.”

“Me neither, sweetheart! I hate being away from you weeks at a time. Eventually, we will be able to live in the same country for longer than a few weeks at a time.”

“Yeah, the visa is taking forever. I feel bad that you have to travel all the time.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about that. I appreciate how you think about me, but I want to assure you that I do this because I love you and want you. It is not an issue. Please don’t worry about it.”

“I know, but I still think about you traveling all the time to see me.”

“I brag about traveling to see the woman I love. I am living the dream! With my dream lady, my best friend. I love you!”

“I love you too, babe! You are my favorite!”

“You’re my favorite, sweetheart! We are doing what we want and coming together to share this life. I am so lucky to have you and call you my own.”

“You’re the best!”

“We’re the best!”

_________________________________

There are all sorts of happy endings.

I am missing my assistant Anna. That could have been how to make this work. Toning down the big grand dream and just working to build our grand life together. I don’t know why we didn’t do that. I remember a conversation where I didn’t want to put additional work on her because of the work she already had. I couldn’t bring myself to take her business away. I couldn’t bring myself to take my half of that business away either. I believe in its potential. I still do. But I would have given it all up for her. I would have had a moment of loss and grief and stress, for sure. Together we could have decided this was better for both of us. We could have made that decision together if we could have talked without fear. I was afraid it would upset her, she may have been afraid to upset me. That fear of each other is no good for our relationship. Not good for any relationship when telling the truth is something to be scared of.

We could have worked together, spent time together, and we could have had common things. She could have gotten to talk to people instead of being alone. I could have had her instead of struggling alone. We both could have benefited. She could make money, and we both could have been able to build something together. We could have strategized on how to grow that business. She could have her practice going also, and she could have had flexibility to attend classes and trainings as she saw fit. We could have been working together on one thing and both supporting us. It could have been the dream team. But the big dream got in the way of the dream team.

That sucks man. I miss my assistant. I miss my partner. I miss my best friend. Every damn day I am full of regret at how this was a failure of my own making. I don’t want a new wife. I want a new plan. I want a new life. I want a new future. I want our kids. Our beautiful kids. I want them to love like their mother loves. I want them to be kind like their mother is kind. I want them to speak the truth no matter the consequences like their father (but maybe a little less blunt at times lol). I want them to refuse to tell themselves “no” like their father (but with a little more of their mother’s groundedness lol). I want them to have the best qualities of both of us. I want them to feel safe and secure in themselves and in the love they have from their family. I want them to speak two languages, a mother tongue and a father tongue lol.

___________________________

So, here’s the story of our day:

“Hey sweetheart, did you see anything from James? I’ve been waiting on his email, and I may have missed it because you know how I am.”

“No, I’ve been looking too. If I see it, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, these folks are driving me nuts some days. I’m glad I’ve got you to keep me sane.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel it sometimes too, and I’m just taking their phone calls. I can only imagine what it’s like having to talk to them about their problems. I’ve got your back, babe!”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I love you for that. I appreciate you for understanding. I also want to talk about hiring someone. We’ve been talking about it, and now that the work is picking up, it might be time.”

“Oh! I remember we talked about that, and I think it’s a good idea that you get some help doing the work. There’s way too much for one person.”

“I wish it could be you. I really like how we come together and make things happen. I am worried about bringing on someone new and having to pay them and train them. You know I tried with that lady, and you saw how that worked out.”

“Oh man, that lady was terrible! She was supposed to have 20 years experience, right?”

“Yeah, she does have a lot of years, but it doesn’t seem like she had a lot of practice in that time. haha“

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! What if we go to that foot massage place tonight after we’re done for the day? You took us there when we got here, and I know it would relax you.”

“Sweetheart, I love you. You’re my favorite. What if we go right now and just skip out on the rest of the day?”

“Really? Are you sure? I know you said you have a lot of work to do.”

“You’re right. I did say that. And I do have a lot of work. But, and answer me honestly, do you want to get a foot massage? Would it help you relax a bit?”

“Well… I mean, if there’s a lot of work, then work comes first.”

“You’re right sweetheart, and now you sound like me. haha But, I am asking about you, because you come first. Work will be here tomorrow.”

“I really could use a massage. That sounds wonderful!”

“Alright, as the boss, I say we are closed for the day! My lady needs a foot massage! Let’s go!”

And with a wink, he kissed his beautiful wife (like he missed her), and they locked the door and headed for foot massages.

___________________________

I so wish this dream would come true. I have a part of me that believes. Then another part remembers what she said she wants… I have to listen to my beautiful wife, always. Because she comes first.

Although, what about the kids?! Who do I save in a fire? I save the kids, right? Because she can take care of herself, right? Oh, I don’t want to think about that. That’s a tough topic. I don’t want to plan for scenarios that aren’t happening. But this one might be worth planning for. It could happen. And I want to keep us all safe. She also wants us all to be safe. I am voting we have that difficult conversation to make a plan in case of emergency.

Just like we should have had the conversation to make a plan in case of this emergency. Not just making our own plans to keep ourselves safe. We needed a plan to keep us both safe, to keep us together. It takes open, honest, and safe communication for that to take place. If I write something or say something that doesn’t make sense or could be taken in a wrong way, please call me out, gently. I hope one day there is enough safety between us that, if something needs to be said, you can tell me, and there are no blockages or barriers or baggage to unpack. If that day ever comes, I will not defend. I will seek to understand, validate, and get curious. I will also provide the context so you know that I didn’t mean any harm. I will seek to understand the impact so I can know to treat you better. Through this mutual work, we will both get better. The triggers will slowly fade, and the triggering actions will become less. This takes a mutual trust that is built through communication and time. I am preparing every day for this opportunity, if it should ever present itself.

None of this is meant to say that my fantasy can replace what actually happened. It can’t. This is only to say that fantasy shows me what I missed. I missed our dream life together. Mostly because I couldn’t keep it together, and I valued the important things too late.

We got a little hard learning from all this. Trial and error. Fail and try again. Fuck it up, listen and learn to not fuck it up next time, if there is a next time. And remember, I’m not dead, there will be a next time (in some form). There are all sorts of happy endings.

I am not diminishing her. I said what I felt needed to be said. Now, I am not surrendering. I am releasing her.

She is a strong, beautiful, capable woman. She will succeed no matter what. I am hurt by her choice, and that may remain for some time. I am not trying to control. I am letting go.

I respect you, and myself, enough to stop trying to hold on when you have chosen to leave. Your choice is yours to make. It hurts me, and I might disagree. But I promised to always encourage you to ask for what you want. You have asked. I will step back and let you do what you want to do.

I’m not watching. I’m not chasing. I’m not begging. I am letting you go. I am setting you free. I am letting myself be free. I forgive all, and I take the lessons forward with me, incorporating what you have taught me. I hold a beautiful memory of you. I love you. I miss you. It’s never too late. But I know, it’s not now.

You’ll always be Mrs. Bubbles, my beautiful, bubbly first wife.

I have love and gratitude for our time together. My loved ones will know a better man because of you, and they will thank you. My children will know a better father because of you, and they will thank you. I thank you.

You are the hero. I know it. I believe it. I love you for it. I love you for being you. Keep being you.

I will always encourage you to be unreasonable and to ask for what you want.

Att prata svenska med dig och våra barn.

I vow to love you honestly as your teammate and partner.

You’re my favorite.

I choose you, now and forever.

In the first two parts, I tried to convince myself that what happened was enough to make me forget how much I love you and how much you mean to me. I tried to convince myself you were something bad. I let other voices help me simplify you into something you’re not. I tried real hard to not like you anymore. I tried to be angry. I tried to rewrite my memory of you.

I’m not simplifying you today. I remember these vows I made to you. I remember how much we laughed. I remember how we dreamed. I remember how much I love you. I remember how I looked into your eyes and saw an endless universe. I remember your touch. I remember your kisses. I remember how you would bring me back to earth and temper me. I remember how you are the most wonderful woman I have met. I remember how you complement me. I remember how you fit into my arms. I remember how your amazing smile lights up the world. I remember how you are my favorite. I remember how light and easy you were, never a burden. I remember you as my beautiful wife. I remember us.