Wondering why I have been so unsatisfied with my “good life” became a daily activity for the past many months. Something about the constraints of my job (love the work, hate the job) but even more, the limits of the community where I am working, have locked me in a block of ice, so to speak, a place where my deepest creativity has been stifled, even villianized. I didn’t think to ask: where are the Jews, the blacks, the ethnic flavors? where are the artists, the poets? where are the old hippies? where is the STD clinic, the musicians, the drug addicts? where are the lesbians for Christ sake? I acted out the part of a loner, needing no one. I love my little cabin on the mountain, but a cabin on the mountain is just a cabin on the mountain, really. A permanent retreat, really.
Eventually I accepted that I should simply take responsibility for my own bliss/happiness/whatever. And after that, a series of events fell into my lap and have catapulted me into a new job/new city/new story. I don’t actually know how these things happen, but I know that they do happen.
What happened is … I have been offered job as manager of the palliative care program at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle. I have accepted the offer, and plan to move to Seattle in September. The job will be challenging and the idea of living in Seattle is totally exciting. I’ve always wanted to try bicoastiality.
Of course, I can’t tell you how the story will unfold. Yet.