To Juliet on Our Twelfth Anniversary

And…here…we…are! Dodici anni. I begin where I must. You are the light that illuminates my world.

Over the last year, your sacrifices kept us on course when our dream seemed derailed, like so many others in 2020. I suppose I have more to be grateful for than at any point in my lifetime. Not only did you save our necks last year, but you also continued to help save the most vulnerable and fragile of our species, our precious children. The American birthrate has plummeted, and children are needed for our nation to continue to thrive. You are a parent’s angel of hope, and my admiration for you has swelled throughout our relationship. It is now at a point where I realize that I have indeed married far above my station in life. Selflessness assumes an understanding of a larger context. The birthrate is indicative of a nation’s self-confidence and belief in tomorrow; human selflessness is an exceptional indicator of hope.

I thought, for many years, that I was the hopeful one among us. As it turns out, I am far more fragile than I had imagined. At times during all of this madness of pandemic and work stoppage, I thought we might be doomed to a tragic financial fate. The lost sleep and missing appetite were put at rest by you and your willingness to take on an even greater load. Your dedication to others and to the cause of keeping them alive indicates your firm grasp of context. Because of your example, I began to emerge from my funk and began to chase the harmony I believed had eluded us. And I hope you will agree that I have indeed started to capitalize on these opportunities to improve. I think of Churchill and paraphrase him here, if our relationship should last for a hundred years, this, we could say, was our finest hour. I can hope with all of my romantic and manic dreams that this was our most challenging year. And, if not, perhaps we could be spared the craggy rocks of doom for a few more before we find ourselves listing once again. I want so much for us to climb from the shelter of our nightly rituals and allow for the healing of human interaction to wake us from this isolated slumber. 

So, now we go (or will have gone) on our first flight since February 2020. I am sure we are no longer the same weary wanderers that we had become before the world halting. We are quasi-enlightened seekers of experiences but using greater discretion and far fewer bags of money to have them. I know that I am grateful you are still here, and I am still so in love with you. I could never have guessed that anything could hold my interest and continue to show me new layers of life and continue to deepen our union after so many years. Now, I cannot imagine anything more permanent in our human experience than our love for one another. 

So here we are, at twelve years, we have reached that pivotal dozen. But what about the birthrate? Somehow it continues to enter into our daily talks, and our empty spaces resonate with what feels like longing. Is it just me? Should our dance card be more inclusive? I suppose that dance will keep maneuvering, as it tends to do. And I guess the following letter might (although unlikely) shed further light on the subject. I love you, Juliet!

Here we come, world!

May the dance continue and the dance floors be numerous

To Juliet on Our Tenth Anniversary

This one has taken me a while to imagine and even longer to write. I suppose we will always struggle with verbal communication as our relationship grows more profound into the unspoken and the need for words diminishes. It became clear to me while we were driving from Brownwood back to DFW a couple of weeks ago that we have indeed lived some adventures over the years. I had always believed that living an adventurous life would slow the course of time, or at least the perception that time is moving. In some ways it has. Our many travels have revealed parts of the planet that we could not have understood without traveling there and have shown us parts of ourselves that were not yet visible without the experience of travel. However, I cannot help but feel the weight of age, even at a reasonably young age, and the knowledge that we have been married for ten years.

Perhaps my greatest joy in reflecting on these 3650 days is that I long for more. And unlike at the beginning where the longing was for travel, experiences and personal success, the desire now is simply for time with you. I think many couples become accustomed to time apart from their spouses. They have girls' and boys' weekends. They travel for work often. They split tasks to manage their kids. I can certainly grasp the appeal in those particular types of marriages. But we are not in those categories. I do not intend to disparage other people's needs and choices here, but voluntary time apart is merely unappealing and unfulfilling for me. You are the muse to my madness. Your smile widens each night as the days fall away through the course of our meals and our bottles of wine. The time we have together is where ideas are born, plans are hatched, and our connection is deepened.

I realize these letters over the years are pretty one-sided. There are probably people out there that believe that I am a needy asshole and that you might benefit from some "alone time." We both know that the door is always open and that the life we have here is indeed a choice. At the same time, I do my best to ask you where your feelings are and what needs should be addressed regularly. It always seems to come back to sleep and alone together time to get you fully recharged. For me, it is, and likely always will be, being on the adventure of marriage with you. We do not have kids. We have wrestled with that since the beginning ten years ago. And we have likely at least a few more years to decide what course of action to take in that arena. For now, no pets, no property, and no obligations but love and trust in the paths we are choosing.

Ten years for us - Our 19th trip to Italy together happens in a couple of weeks. Perhaps our Italian life is our child or at least our pet. We have visited 31 countries together since 2007, and that list will likely grow again this year. We have so many possibilities on the horizon, and yet they are imbued with an edge of uncertainty. This likely more how I like it than how you would prefer it. At the same time though, every time we shut the engines down awhile we both become intolerably grumpy. I don't want to be grumpy. But perhaps we will get better. Maybe the dream is to reach the next space in life. We have had these life chapters, and they are better than fiction. The story can bog down at times, but there is always resolution, poetry, intrigue, and climax. Is there a better way to write a novel?

In conclusion, since this is now bordering on long-form prose, the ten years since we married have been the most pivotal and enlightening days of my life. I hold out hope that we will continue this journey. I dream each night that I will keep waking up with you and that our lives will only become more precious with joy while becoming more open and charitable as well. Thank you for marrying me ten years ago. Thank you for agreeing to do it over again hundreds of times since that warm day in Austin, Texas. I love you more than the sum of every part of everything I have loved before or since I met you.

Yours always,

Michael

Why I Travel - Update

"Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain." Today, Juliet and I embark on one of our most ambitious journeys to date. We fly to Europe tonight for 20 days, and most of those days we will be doing things we have never done before. Sure, we have been overseas enough times to classify us as veterans, savvy, or some other descriptor our friends and colleagues assign us. However, this will be our first adventure sailing in Greece and a trek in The Dolomites. My posthumous tutor Joseph Campbell taught me that quote I began this piece with, and the lesson, in my opinion, can only be achieved by exploration.  One must indeed "find" a place where there's joy. Joy does not simply come to exist. And at the same time, it is not merely the place that manifests joy, but one's existence in that space, at that period.

The transitory nature of joy is precisely the hook. Finding a place where it exists is no easy task. For there are few spaces in my history that have provided joy and have managed to do so more than once. Italy, I love the place. I go all the time. In the past few years, I have seen a marked decline of joy I have been able to bank internally from these trips. No fault of the country, it is me who has fallen into a travel rut. I have invested far too much time and energy into learning the language and culture of Italy to abandon our regular visits. So, this time, we are doing our first multi-day hike in The Dolomites. There is a chance it will be a new well of joy. There is a chance it will rain misery upon our hiking parade. Choosing to do new things is risky. I am not suggesting risky as in perilous, but rather, as in ROI. Losing the investment of time, money, and the vulnerability that comes with trying new things are all possibilities. However, if one does not risk, one does not seem to have the reward.

I am not penning this post to solicit sympathy. I am aware that my life is unique and outwardly must appear like an inexhaustible well of adventure. The truth is, I spend far more time at a desk than one might imagine I do. I also deal with copious amounts of creative rejection and indifference on the part of photo editors and clients. I certainly signed up for all of it, but it does not make the experience any easier. So, when I take the initiative to do something new, I am wagering the known return of a familiar experience for the possibility of something far greater in the unknown. It is this gamble that opens the door for a possible JC experience. Campbell had his time reading in the woods. This period was seminal to his development into the thinker he became. I crave my own Woodstock. I seek my own time to read, write, create, and process the experiences which I believe will foster a forced evolution of myself.

I am not sailing in Greece because I have some list that suggests my android life will not be complete without a personal Homerian Odyssey. I am sailing because my friend asked me to. As a person who spends upwards of 20 hours a day either alone or sleeping, the chance to be in the community of other travelers is of high value. I am hiking in Alto Adige because I like hiking, and also because Nassim Nicholas Taleb and I share an opinion on the misery of exercising in a gym. Walking in nature allows me to process nature.

Exercising in a gym only allows me to distil that which is laid out before me. I am not trying to win you over or judge any fitness aficionados here; I just hate gyms. Life in The Bay Area is a treadmill. I do not need to give any more of my time to the conveyor belt.

Now, my reasons for choosing this itinerary may seem ill-conceived.
I am flying on five planes, riding three ferries, and driving one rental car in the course of these 20 days. However, the drug of joy and its allure is nothing for which to scoff. Without the possibility of joy, I would not even get out of bed in the morning. I am not able to solemnly plod about dutifully to a cause created by others. Life is the cause and living it to the very best of my aptitude and initiative serves me and those that know me.

I am the best of myself when on the adventure. I am closer to that place inside where there is joy when I see something with fresh eyes. There is no return to "normalcy" for me because discovery is my normal. My imagery, my sense of beauty, and my devotion to my wife are all hinged upon the continued pursuit of the small spaces where the pain is assuaged and incinerated. The dreams that I may fulfill in these sacred spots and minuscule moments is inversely proportionate to the times I exist in pure joy.

As a kid, I would often sit in my dark closet with one speaker from my little SEARS stereo joining me in the abyss. In there I would envision my path to exploration. I knew once I broke free from the surly bonds of my hometown that I would likely never seek this mundane chapter of my existence again. Now, five years on here in the Bay Area and the wanderlust is getting the better of me. It is time to set the sails and strap on the trekking boots. If you are looking for me in the coming days, I will be carving a path through the darkest part of the forest.

Our little home in the Dolomites. It only went downhill from here :-)

For Juliet, On our Eighth Anniversary

Dear Juliet,

I never really thought much about the vow "In Sickness and Health" till 2017. I certainly have now. For the first time in our lives together we had to cancel travel for illness, my illness. I contracted pneumonia in January and was convalescent for all of February and half of March.I felt like a burden to you, and to myself for those six long weeks. I began to believe that I was going to remain sick, and my hopelessness began to even creep over the stability of you and me. I began to wonder if you could endure another day, another surprise doctor visit, or another night of my fever. I began to ponder my mortality, my career choices, and whether or not I was going to become invalid. I am still battling with residual effects of illness and the paranoia that it could return. I still freak out every time I cough or have a body ache. However, I have discovered that the S&H vow is one you plan to keep.

While I was in a fog of life, you worked as hard as you ever have. You kept the lights on, the food stocked and nursed me from near and far. You showed me a side of you that was so much tougher than what I had already witnessed, and although you have always been strong, this was a part of your makeup that I did not know. I am typically the guy who keeps the truck on the road and the train on the trestle. I simply could not do it for most of this year. It had to be you. It was not the easiest thing for you, and you are tired, ready to see something new. I hope this is happening. As you read this, we are likely awaiting a flight from London to Rome. The familiar FCO airport awaits, and a new Italy road trip will begin. We celebrate today with a grand tasting of pizza from one of the greatest pizza makers in Italy (which means best in the world). But this is not what this day is about, not this year.

This day, April 30, 2017, we will celebrate vows that seem almost cliche but are distinctly poignant. It is no accident that we are here at year eight. We talk to one another, assess, coach, and postulate about what we have seen, what we want to see, and who we want to become. We are not bound by age, demographics, race, religion, or place of origin when determining our goals for life.  The universe did not weave us from the same cloth as many, and we have long known this. We fit few accepted norms of behavior, and we place few (if any) limits upon ourselves for the choices we are free to make. However, all of this could come to a grinding halt if our health fails us. This illness is now part of our collective experience. We saw the Housewrighter travel and discovery engine come to a very abrupt stop. However, you know what this did for me?

This malady made me love you more than I knew I was capable of loving anything. It gave me the realization that while I took that vow eight years ago, I now know that it is real. Yes, I know I "should have known" it was true then, but let's face it, I am human, and I haven't exactly had the best luck in relationships (till I met you). I mean, if you can love me through the shitshow of early 2017, let's keep this caravan moving. We have no idea what kind of time either of us has on this earth. We don't, and that is the card we are all dealt. What we can do, and what we choose to do, is never let a day go by that we do not seek to better ourselves, ennoble our love, and tell each other I love you, and that we are not going anywhere, in sickness and health.

I heard a classic song the other day, and I sang it out loud in my car as I drove down to my photo class. I belted it out vociferously and pictured your beautiful face and sweet demeanor as I crooned. "My love, just thinking about you baby just blows my mind....all the time."

Happy Anniversary Juliet!

I love you.

Michael