Writing and then reading that entry of the bliss I want is, perhaps, the entire reason why the stars aligned so that I would be here, now, when I had come to the breaking point with my job. It somehow puts everything in a more complete perspective. Maybe this is the final frontier of making the Secret work for me. Putting down on paper not just a list of qualities I want in a mate, but an account of what my life is right now in my future which on some foreign plane is a current reality – it all snapped my spinning life back into focus. This is what I truly want. This is what the Secret is ultimately about for me – so that I can attract my perfect mate when I see that picture my pen described – so clear and strong in my head – my job just pales in significance, fades in comparison to the vividness of my true dream. Maybe my job doesn’t have to take over my life. Maybe it is just the residue of my past and doesn’t have to even really exist for me now. I see now with renewed clarity what my priorities are – and they begin with my perfect mate. I can see now what it means to live in the future you’re attracting. I’m already there. My job suddenly seems awfully brief. It will not – cannot – last long. It is – I see now – in its last dying gasps. And maybe finally I see the key to being able to live out that quote which I felt signified my life right now but seemed at the same time out of my reach to live out:
And what is it
to work with love?
It is to build
a house with affection,
Even as if your beloved
were to dwell there.
- Gibran
Maybe I can return to work the day after tomorrow, not with dread or misery or the agony of unmet desire for another life, but with the peace of a more complete perspective. Maybe I can go back and face conferences and reading groups and planning templates and observations and behavior, and hold around me like a cloak this peace. Perhaps as long as I keep reading that account of my life as it will be, as if it is already here, I can remember that this job, these circumstances, are – as the Psalm says – “to be cut down like the grass and wither as the green herb.” I’m not here anymore; I am there, in the future I so fervently desire and believe in again. I had begun losing hope; it had started to flicker like a bulb about to go out, but this place. Today, this afternoon, I thought about how it was all going to be over soon, but then my next thought was that there was still a whole day left. And that there was a reason this vacation was four days long and not three or two. That there was more still to be thought and grasped. I felt there was still more for me to discover here. The hours I had left had a purpose, and sure enough, here I sit, with mere hours before we wake up and leave for home, beginning the long journey back to the life I left on “pause,” and all the hours that came before in this lovely remote place have in truth been subtly, quietly pushing to a particular conclusion. This then is the purpose for this whole trip, different than I’d thought it but so much more potent than I could have expected. Here, then, is the key to survival, to working with love at something I hate. And the God I am so often angry at shows me again that he does see me and has not forgotten his promise.
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