No Vision Safari

S:  I am here in College Station for the Texas A&M graduation ceremony; I just watched my cousin walk across the stage.  I feel like I was here before, in a previous vision when I realized I needed to move from Montana to Texas shortly after I graduated from UM myself.  At that time, the vision was so dim and dark, and I wanted to feel secure for the future to come.  I feared not being ready, of all rational fears.

A:  Why would I want to move from the most beautiful place on Earth to the least?  What could possibly be in Texas for me?  Houston, of all godforsaken places?  These are the thoughts I had while I was building the new library for the Montana Natural History Center, my first job out of college, and a book from Stephen Leatherwood arrived in the donation pile.  In Montana.  A book on dolphins, of all things.

F:  For those of you who don’t know Stephen, like my cousin who just earned her degree, you need only know that he was my near-father, he was a marine biologist, and he was hilarious.  He also got his Masters here in marine biology.  In College Station, of all places.

A:  I would remain happily in Montana for several years, but always with the feeling that maybe this would be the way I should go.  I just couldn’t see it, but I knew I had to be ready.  Here steeps the new traditions I have made since I’ve moved.  Here, College Station, Houston, Texas, is where I learned to be ready.  To hold these moments sacred, of all traditions new and old.

R:  What my cousin and I do have in common, other than a fascination with pens and journaling, is our dear late grandmother, who also adored Stephen.  The very day she passed is the day Rice University contacted me.  I couldn’t have dreamt, in a million years, that these opportunities would come to me by moving to Texas.  To be a consultant, of all things.

I:  Perhaps my hindsight is more clear than my vision today, and that’s the reason I’m here now.

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