mission statement

Good to see I keep writing about the same stuff over and over again.

Fear and love, the world's two great opposites. Tempting to say *one* of the world's great opposites, but this dichotomy is perhaps our greatest motivator as a species. One or the other seems to always been pushing our course.

It's handy to learn opposites and how they interact... like learning that water puts out fire. Then when a blaze is consuming your thoughts, you know some options for putting it out.

Earlier today, I mentioned to a friend the fears that been distracting and paralyzing me lately, specifically related to this book The Wine Roads of Texas. I'm certainly afraid of failing. Afraid not to have enough money. Afraid my approach to research projects in school isn't going to work here. Afraid of being revealed as a farce. Afraid my writing is just silly, pedestrian dribble.

"Have you written a mission statement, declaration of purpose, an argument in defense of your love?"

Good question, kiddo. No, I haven't. I've been much too busy throwing logs on the fire of this fear to bother looking for any water to quell it.

I have 10 minutes before work. What can be done with that time?

Why am I doing this? What is my love rushing towards?

1) I am here because I love people. I love talking to them, learning their stories, basking in their glow as they share their passions. This project generously provides those opportunities as I talk to winery owners and wine makers about what they do and why.

2) I love travel and I really enjoy it at the speed of a car trip on back roads. And, even as I long to leave this continent again, I feel extremely honored to be doing such travel in my home.

3) I want to write beyond this blog and its self-centered yammering. This project gives me the chance to write about others and to enjoy the process of describing them.

4) This project gives me the opportunity to write, period. I am tearing up with emotion as I state this because it is so scary and left-field: I love writing. I just really relish the process and even love how much I hate every frustratingly self-conscious hiccup and hand-ringing roadblock. I love that I hate what I write but I have to do it anyway, and that I don't even know why any of this is the case.

5) I love the people this project is enabling me to meet and the new rush of energy in my life, even though I'm not sure I'm ready. Even though I'm sure I'm not ready.

6) I love organizing research projects and the way one idea leads to 20 others. I even really like making spreadsheets and to-do lists and using them for a brief second before drifting off into daydream land again. Then returning to them and thanking my past-self for being wise enough to create them in the first place.

7) I am here because I love doing slightly stupid things, like taking a 1993 Mazda Protege on a really long trip, while living out of it on a shoestring. I think the whole thing is kind of funny and enjoy praying to the gods for any shred of luck they can spare.

8) I love that I am staring my own sense of potential in the face and begging it to forgive me and take me under its wing, to be gentle with me. I love how scary that is and how much I look forward to looking back on this fearful encounter as a memory.

So, mission statement:
I am here for my love of people, for my love of writing and of travel; here to test myself and not to judge on whether there is success or failure, but rather if I stick with this daring, lofty thing long enough to see one way or the other. I am here for the moment, but also out of curiosity for the hindsight that will follow in a year or so. And I'm here because doing slightly stupid things is entertaining in the long-run, even if just to myself.

Still scared, but no longer paralyzed.