I left my heart in San Francisco…or was it NY…no, definitely Portland.
Perhaps the mystery lies within a crevice of the soul that has yet to be fully uncovered and explained in the midst of my constant journeying. Perhaps, the answers are before the mystery.
There are fewer things that I love to do when I go home then have a drink, a cigar, and seeing my friends. More specifically the mysterious light that shines from their eyes amidst new ambitions and the lowest of lows.
In a short weekend trip, these are four things that can happen very easily, and it reminds me of the simplicity of the life I enjoy when I reside in the 503. Yet, there is a wall to be breached every time I’m home, and I was walked in the Pearl District just a few nights ago, listening to a random street band perform on a stage that seemed to fit their personalities to perfection, that wall was breached.
It got me thinking what I’m really doing in my life - who I am, where I’m going, what I’ve done, and the adventures yet left to climb.
There are two separate worlds in my life - and there is very little that ever crosses intothe other. In one universe, I live in Los Angeles - I sit around a table with people who hang out with Keith Urban and the Red Hot Chili Peppers after a long day on set, I order coffee with Chris Pine, and I wander around Disneyland when I’m bored. And if it’s a really good day, I read at the beach. It’s a dream…and yet, it leaves me dying a little bit more each day, because I know it’s just a small stop in a long life that I hope to enjoy, no matter how long, because God gives it and takes it away. I want to make it last for Him and His glory. I want to do majestic things for the Kingdom. I want to save lives, because when I had none to give, He saved mine.
Then in my other world, I wander around Portland like a character from a Nicholas Sparks book…a tad bit confused, heartbroken, pathetic, and heroically daring at the same time. I sit around a camp fire and retell as well as listen to stories about the prime of my friend group’s lives when we were The Buck Crew. Before school, distance, women, men, and life decisions slowly but surely called us to grow up. I enjoy a cup of Stumptown Coffee with my mom as another cool Oregon breeze blows through the vacant and clean city streets of Portland.
It’s a vast comparison of the slow and romantic versus the fast pace and what seems hopeless. Yet I wonder why God has me in either. But there must be a reason I ask.
I have a tendency to look back and cherish, and a bad habit of looking forward and spitting out the taste in my life. On those (sometimes too often) seasons of life where I ride the arrogant horse into my future, I think I have it all. And then I come home. And then I don’t get that call back. Then I don’t get hired. Then I get kicked off a team with my friends. Then I make some terrible mistakes. Then I get reminded of grace. Then I come back to this spot.
If you’ve made it this far, this will probably remind you of my old blogs, where I was more confused and passionate. Perhaps it’s a good thing, perhaps it’s a terrible thing. All I know is that I love today. I love this trip home. I love where God has placed me, and I can’t wait to for the (hopefully) global adventures that lie ahead.
Degree or not.
Single or not.
Full of friends, or riding like the Lone Ranger, solo into the sunset.
Rich or poor.
Needless or needy.
It’s going to be a beautiful picture that will be finished when I’m XX years old.
I thought I left my heart in SF where my bachelor and city life could fly to new heights.
Before it was NY.
And it will probably be Portland this time, only for a completely different reason.
So where is that sunset…and pass the Stumptown and Rum please.
