I feel like an explorer. You know the kind, you read about them in middle school history class. Coming to the New World in big ships full of stuff, wearing too much armor, groping blindly at everything unfamiliar, trying desperately to map their journey knowing they might not ever go back. At once it's an arrogant exercise - to assume anything needs discovering, because there were plenty of people already here. But I have to imagine that for some at least, it was more than a booty call on behalf of her majesty. To look out over a land so different from the one you left that it changes the person you are - I can't believe that some didn't discover themselves in the process.
And now I stand on this ridge looking over all that is, knowing there's infinite possibility in every direction. I've tried to make this journey before, but I wasn't ready. This time I've shed the armor, left most of the baggage on the pier.
What do you do when you have no map at all?
Somehow quite unexpectedly I found my guide to this land, though he is as unfamiliar in this territory as am I.
How do you tell someone this? That you know enough that you're willing to take the risk in what you don't know? That it won't always be easy, but that you'd rather find out how hard things could be with this person than with any other? And once you know this, what happens next? Do you plot the path or do grope through the bush?
When you've supped at St. Augustine, what do you do next?
Know the direction you want to go, then go.
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