Boundaries

It’s interesting how the world works. We start with limitless potential and possibility. Over time, our decisions create the context of our lives, including boundaries and restrictions. Our possibilities are bounded by those boundaries and restrictions. And there’s nothing wrong with boundaries and restrictions; they are necessary components of our lives. Without them, we might never know any sense of security.

What happens, though, is that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that we’ve created a context that includes boundaries and restrictions; we think that the context we’ve made is all that there is. We are blinded by the choices we’ve made.

Then something happens and we make new decisions—sometimes just one new decision—that obliterate those boundaries we’ve stopped noticing and we find ourselves faced once again with limitless potential and possibility.

That’s what happened to me this year. I had made choices—good choices, choices I was happy with—and over time those choices and the choices that derived from them and the choices that came after that created a (really, pretty great) world, but one past the end of which I couldn’t see.

Then something happened that exploded that world, and suddenly I was faced with limitless potential and possibility.

And it was scary.

It was scary, but it was also exciting. It was exhilarating. It was like taking off a pair of too-tight shoes at the end of the day; I’d stopped noticing how tight they were until my feet were free.

If I wasn’t going to stay where I was, I could go anywhere. Anywhere! The whole world opened up before me!

It was awesome.

Then I began making decisions. It isn’t possible to go “anywhere”—one has to choose a single place. I considered many places—North Carolina, Idaho, Washington, Utah, Hungary, the Middle East—but my heart was inexorably drawn to Hawai‘i, and once I decided that was where I intended to be, my scope narrowed.

I’ve had to stay flexible, of course—since it’s impossible to be fully self-sufficient, my decisions have been predicated on circumstances as well as my own desires and intentions—but each decision has defined a new context and begun creating a new world. Just Tuesday I decided to accept an employment offer, which more sharply defines the new boundaries of my new world.

I will teach 8th grade English/Language Arts at Lahaina Intermediate School in Lahaiana on Maui.

This decision dictates:

• who I’ll meet
• where I look for a home (Lahaina, Kā‘anapali, Wailuka, Kihei)
• how much I pay for a home
• where I get a post office box
• what it will cost to insure my motorcycle
• what activities I’ll be able to engage in
• how I approach my job
• what I do outside my job
• how often I go to church and where

so many aspects of temporal existence. Some things are possible, but without changing this decision, other things are not.

That’s okay. That’s the consequence of free will; every decision opens up some possibilities and closes off others.

It’s a new world, different than the one I am leaving, but both are largely of my making, and while I’m going to miss much of my old life, I’m excited to discover what unexpected opportunities and challenges this new world has for me.

I’ve Been Wrong About “wrong” Before

I had two phone interviews this week—one Tuesday and the other Wednesday—and I’ve already heard back from both schools. One elected to hire someone else, and the other offered me a position. The one that offered me a position would like me to respond by Wednesday. Good news! I won’t be unemployed when I move to Hawai`i!

I’m probably going to wait until pretty close to Wednesday to respond—while the odds don’t look great, it’s possible that another school or two will be interested in what I have to offer and I do have some (minor) qualms about the position offered—but barring the unforeseen I now know where I'm going.

It’s exciting! More exciting than I was really looking for, in fact...

You see, all my plans so far have been predicated on the hope that I’d find a position on O‘ahu. It’s the most developed island with the largest population, so (I reasoned) it was the place most likely to have the most opportunities. It made sense to me, at any rate.

I have other reasons for hoping that something on O‘ahu would come through. There’s a good-sized church family there, which would provide great support. And it’s the island my brother has to live on when he moves to Hawai‘i (in the next half year or so). We’ve been plotting to room together, and since we both do many of the same things and have many of the same interests—scuba diving, hiking, swimming, stand-up paddleboarding, kayaking, etc.—being on the same island would give each of us a ready partner for the active life we both love.

But I have an offer.

It’s the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject...and unless something better (a lot better) comes along in the next four days, I’m going to accept it with enthusiasm and love the heck out of it, welcoming the challenges it bears with it.

Maybe it’s for the best; maybe it’s for my best. Maui may be the “wrong” island, but it is beautiful and wonderful—it’s got forests and beaches and a really great outdoors overall. 8th grade may be the “wrong” grade level, but there are marvelous opportunities to make a real difference in the lives of 8th graders. And English may be the “wrong” subject, but I do love it, and I’ve known all along that it was unlikely I’d find a position teaching the “right” one. And (more to the point) if I go there I wouldn’t have much of a support network at all.

Maybe that’s what I need. I’ve said before that among the virtues of this adventure are the risks I have to take. Maybe O‘ahu is too easy. Maybe what I really need is to go "all in" and face the world alone.

It isn’t as if I’ll be completely alone, after all; There are a few church members on Maui, and I’ll have coworkers who I hope will become friends. And family and friends are always available via social network, email, and phone. But maybe the real adventure is going into a place where I have very few connections—too few to weave a safety net—and find my path; find myself.

Maybe the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject are just what I need. I’m open to the possibility...

I’ve been wrong about “wrong” before.