The wild blue yonder

I have learned, time and time again, that the best way to move forward in life is to allow yourself to take a long pause before you decide on your next move ahead. Ensuring your decision is not based on some reaction from emotion or ego, but one that is clear and grounded. The most important thing to keep in mind while you are deep in this figuring phase, though, is to have some patience (so hard for me) and trust that the road you are on will eventually lead you to the clarity you seek. This process will most likely (and annoyingly) take some time, so try to get comfortable in the discomfort of the unknown. Try to embrace that shit. Honor the process and be a non-judgmental witness to your past (impossible!). And remember, no matter how many struggles or defeats you've had (many), no matter what you liked or didn't like or what you wished you would have changed or didn't do. Seek out those habitual patterns that don't serve you anymore and let them go. Gather up the lessons you've learned, leave your old drama behind, clean up the muck, get out of your own way so you can openly receive your answer. This answer may surprise and challenge you (the best). It may also be the last thing you thought you wanted to do. I mean, seriously, never imagined doing. Ok, you ready to hear our next adventure. Good. I am finally ready to tell you.

For months, as many of you know, we have been figuring out where we want to move after our six-year dwelling in the wine country developing Noci Sonoma. Truthfully, this conversation began over a year ago, before we had decided to put our property on the market. However, it wasn't until our initial stay at home orders at the beginning of this pandemic that my husband and I were finally able to embrace the fact that the property (and business) we had fervently been developing and deeply devoted to was now not what we wanted to continue to do with our lives anymore. The struggle was too real for too long, and we couldn't continue on the hamster wheel any longer in one of the country's most expensive places to live. Not to mention the catastrophic fires that hit the area each year, making it seem impossible for us to survive as a business. But it wasn't until we imagined how many years we would be continuing to fight these battles to make ends meet and how our young children would become teenagers by the time we did that we were finally able to make our decision. Because, for us, being with our kids and having adventures with them while they are still young is very important to us. 

I know I have mentioned this before, but if you could move anywhere in the world, where would you live? Maybe you are perfectly happy with where you are now (lucky you!), but if you aren't, where would you be? Not because of a job or family or friends or just settling back to a place because of familiarity. But where would you want to live to quench your happiness? You would figure everything else out later (money, job, living, etc). Let me put it another way - if you were told you only had a year left to live, would you do anything different? Would you move somewhere else in the world? Not to get dramatic, but it's a great question to ask yourself time and again. That's what we did, and we got our answer - we would move without question.

Where we wanted to move to was the next challenge. We started obsessively searching and researching different parts of the county. We made a small list of places that might be a good fit for us, and then when we were able, we went on a road trip in our RV to check some of them out. We had fun exploring each place, don’t get me wrong, showing the kids the sights, exposing them to the country (so many Trump flags and guns). But, as we drove around, looking at houses along the way, we realized we didn't want to have the same experience we have had in our lives thus far. We didn't want to repeat what we have done. Not now, anyway. We want to have a new adventure. And one that will ultimately lead us to find the place in the world where we truly want to live. And, though each city had positive and negative aspects to them, if we are honest with ourselves (which we are), our dream has been to live outside of America. Raise our kids in a multicultural, multiracial, and international community. Ever since my husband and I met ten years ago, we spoke about this. We weren't sure exactly where, but we have always dreamed of traveling to find our true place. But then life happens - you get preoccupied with things, careers, jobs, friends, children are born, time goes on warp speed (after you turn 40), and you get comfortable in your routines. Until, one day, a pandemic strikes, and it slaps you in the face with the wise adage - "if not now, when."

For the past few years, my husband has had a deep-obsessive desire to sail the seas searching for our next home while showing the kids the world. That conversation was quickly put to bed for me as I am not a salty dog (neither is he, for that matter). More to the point, I have never been an ocean person. And I have never ever had a desire to float on top of it in a boat. I get seasick by just looking at the damn waves. Let's say I was not open to the idea at all. But then, when we arrived in Florida, we saw a ton of boats that he has been doing a ton of research on, and I saw how excited my kids were with the possibility to set sail. I kept thinking about how COVID restrictions have affected them and how they are stuck in front of their screens for school, at home, and without play dates or meeting new friends. And how much fun this would be for them and, not to mention, a once and a lifetime life-changing experience for us to do as a family. Sailing, fishing, snorkeling, and surviving (!) out in the sea. The new cultures and food, and people we would explore together. The challenges we would face together. (AH!) So, I got over my selfish ass for a minute, walked around the boat, seasick from even being docked, and kept asking myself if I could do this. Could I actually live on a boat? Now, if you've been following me for a while, you are privy to the fact that we haven't lived in an actual house for over two years. Our dwellings have been an airstream, an RV, and staying in short-term rentals along the way. I joked with my husband that he has been getting me used to living in small moveable homes to prepare me for this moment. Cause these boats, I might add, have much bigger kitchens and rooms than both of the moveable houses we have been living in! Sneaky bitch.

So, I took a long deep conscious breath, turned to my family, and said, Ok. Let's do this. I am in. They looked up at me in utter disbelief, and then they flipped the F out with excitement. And that, as they say, was that. Our property finally closed escrow, we put down a down payment on the boat we loved, and we are due to set sail in a few months. In the mean time, we are organizing, provisioning, researching, and learning all we can before our new home arrives. Then, we will all learn on our actual boat with the owner of the company to get our certification license and grow some salty balls. How long this journey will last or where our final destination will be, we aren't sure yet. But that's the thrilling part for us. Cause, as we all know, it's the journey in life, not the destination. I am nervous, don't get me wrong, but my excitement and the excitement my children (and husband) have been infectious and have allowed me to get out of my way (kinda). I'm still crazy-ass paranoid about shit (doubtful that will ever go away); but thrilled on our new adventure. Our new home, a boat! We might be doing videos all the time, documenting the experience, or not at all. I'm not quite sure yet. I am simmering with another project that would take most of my extra time to focus on. Cause, in reflection, what I have loved about filming all my Instagram videos is the performance element that I have been missing in my life since I have stepped away from the stage. And that desire to go back to it has only grown, whispering to me in the dark of night, echoing in my ears - bitch, if not now, when.

I put together some highlights of this quarantine time. Thankfully I didn't lose my sense of humor. The final video of this compilation, I later learned, was a work of parody and not an actual letter written by Fitzgerald (instead of by Nick Farriella). I still loved it though, even after I learned this. It also seems most fitting to end it with this one as it is a complete reflection of the world we are all living in and, hopefully, through. To quote, "And yet, amongst the cracked cloudline of an evening's cast, I focus on a single strain of light, calling me forth to believe in a better morrow."

Cheers to the light at the end of the tunnel.