We live in a small town, very very small. No stop lights, few paved roads, a market, a gas station, a hardware store and a dollar general. There's a few restaurants, and a couple of marinas. I can walk everywhere if I desire, and we are surrounded by woods, a river, the swamp and the gulf. The water is brackish, the accents are deep south and the miles are long and boring to the closest city. We aren't always happy, but here we are, and we're sticking around here for another year while we re-arrange this life of ours. As we build our 2016 calendar, restructuring our business plan, all while we've been changing our approach to health, life, work, our relationship, friendships, we're here, we're in the present. And I KNOW y'all get how hard it can be to live in the present. To spend your time daydreaming about what could be, or what was, or what needs to be.
Doug and I have experienced so much success in the last 5 years, and so much failure, and so much in between. We have filled huge orders, handcrafted thousands upon thousands of wood veneer sunglasses, something we created from nothing. Something that has changed and evolved over the years. We've made so many amazing friendships through this community, partnered with some incredible brands, and have never felt so lucky to have had our hard work pay off. We've also had some epic fuck-ups, and that's part of it too.
Doug is taking a quick nap before going back into the shop, we've been pulling 18 hour work days that just seem to blend together lately. I've got a new pot of coffee brewing (coffee from my awesome exchange partner, Anna) and took a break from packing up orders to finish my mood board for the artist we're working with for our rebrand. But really, I'm doing that thing I do, overthinking everything.
So, in our small town, they recently put a quarter machine in at the market, one of those arcade games from the 90s, where you drop quarters onto a shelf and they push the other quarters over the edge and into your pockets. But it never pays off. There's a roll of cash in there, some twenties that just float across the surface and no matter how many quarters you drop into the sea of change, you will never win. Whatever you do win, just goes back into the slot - plop, plop, plop. I run into the market for some avocados or a green juice (not the awesome cold-pressed kind, but after months of begging them to have SOMETHING they got Bolthouse Farms juice in!) I try to get in and out of the market as quickly as I can, I get most of our groceries in town where there are organic and healthier options and things aren't so small town expensive, but I walk past that damn quarter machine. Usually someone is pressed against it, their elbows leaning on the glass, and I think, how easy would it be to drop a quarter in the slot and win big. How sweet to daydream about paying all my bills on time doing something I don't believe in, instant comfort, sudden success. You can waste hours, days, months, years just dropping quarter after quarter into work that doesn't always move you, that doesn't light your fire, friendships that don't create value and love in your life, projects that don't fit your life plan.
But that isn't healthy, and sure, it's fun to play the game, until your pockets are empty and you don't have any more emotional quarters to drop, and you maybe wish you would have dropped those quarters into a glass jar next to your bed instead of into the black hole of wishes and maybes and somedays. I've learned a lot of lessons over the last few years, both emotionally and financially and professionally. I've lost a lot of quarters. But as we shift into this new era, where I value my value, I keep my coins a lot closer to my heart. I want to be inspired by the projects I work on and moved to tears and laughter by the company I keep. I am not looking for the next best thing, I am HERE. I am present. I am excited about everyday. Even the hard days. Especially the days where I have to work harder, grip my worry stones until my knuckles turn white, want to roll over and watch the stars move above me. Especially those days.
Happily yours, Beca