You'll know when you're in the right place

There's a beautiful thing that happens sometimes when you let it.

I’m a big believer in sense of place — how it feels to be somewhere.

When I have time to write, particularly if I am alone, I am notorious (perhaps only with myself) for driving from place to place and stepping inside to see if being there feels right.

If it doesn’t, I’ll move on to the next place. (Hopefully this doesn’t take so long that I don’t get to spend any time actually writing. At a certain point, I do have to settle on a place sometimes that at least doesn’t feel wrong).

Earlier this week, I had a couple hours that I knew I needed to devote to a different writing project. It had been weighing on me for weeks, and I knew all I really needed was 90 minutes of quiet outside the house to get it done.

Knowing that I had this time, I began pre-imagining (one of my specialties) what might be the ideal environment.

I was craving quiet. Usually I would go to a coffee shop or on occasion a brewery, but I didn’t want anything to drink. My body was telling me it was too late for caffeine, and alcohol didn’t sound good, either.

About 30 minutes before I left, as I helped get dinner for our kids, I thought to myself “you’re making this too hard.” But I was still wrestling with where to go as I started to pull out of the driveway.

My phone started to vibrate when I was in reverse. I paused to check it.

It was the 6 p.m. alarm.

My wife signed us up to be research participants in a relationship study, which was interesting during the Zoom question and answer portion.

Then I learned that we each also had to complete surveys five times a day for the next week — 35 times total, with the same questions each time, at three-hour intervals.

I grumbled. But I took two minutes to do the survey. And my phone was already out.

Where am I going? I remembered a nearby library where our daughters had done a crafting class over the holidays. There was a great little nook there that I had spotted, one that would be perfect for writing, but I hadn’t been back since then.

Would they be open?

There were only extended hours for one night a week. But it was this night. They would be closing right when I needed to head home.

Now at this point, one might be thinking: You had two hours to go anywhere in a city with tons of options, and you were excited about … a library?

I know. If I was visited by my former late 20s self, he would have shaken his head and called me names.

But I got there, and I knew. This was the right place.

You’ll know when you’re in the right place.

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That was the theme of the week. I just didn’t know it until I put it all together.

The previous day I had lunch with my friend Tom, who was in town from Toronto. Over sushi, he recounted a recent amazing experience in Chile.

The origin of the trip only makes sense to Tom and to a select few people who know him. Basically, he was supposed to go to Turkey but the trip fell through at the last minute.

His friend Andres had previously invited anyone who wanted to come to Chile to head on down while he was there. So instead of doing what most of us might have done — lamented a missed trip — Tom got in touch with Andres and asked if the offer stood.

A few days later, he was off to Chile instead of Turkey. Of course. Why not?

While there, Tom spent several days with Andres and his mother, Mireya. Andres was still mourning the death of his father and the family was grieving, but the mix of the three of them turned into a powerful dynamic.

There were stories of political turmoil in the family. Tom learned about secret messages wrapped up inside dolls — the ones in the picture accompanying this post.

One day they drove three hours each way to a world-class vineyard and restaurant, the first time they’d been back since the week Andres’ father passed away. Of all the tables in Fuegos de Apalta, they were seated at the same spot.

It was cathartic and amazing.

And all along, Tom couldn’t help thinking: He was never supposed to be in Turkey. He was always supposed to be in Chile.

You’ll know when you’re in the right place.

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It’s a feeling more than anything. But sometimes you’ll get signs. You might be somewhere you’ve been a thousand times. It might be brand new.

You’ll meet new people that lead you to new experiences — something my wife and I had happen several years ago, before kids, when an initial party we attended seemingly led to endless other parties over many months, all of which seemed loosely but importantly connected.

You’ll run into an old friend. You’ll see something you’ve never seen. Or maybe you’ll just be able to filter out external noise and feel truly present.

When it happens, I typically will lean over and tell my wife, “It feels like we’re supposed to be here.”

I love that feeling.

I love it even more than finally being done with those surveys.

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As I noted a month ago, I plan to take some time in this space at the end of every month for some reflection and to look ahead.

• My February pledge was to donate 50% of any new paid subscription money to the Multiple Sclerosis Society. Thanks to everyone who signed up and who read my essay on 10 years with MS. There are still a few days left in the month, but the donation is well over $100 as of now.

• Any new paid subscribers in March will be supporting ThinkSelf, a local non-profit serving Deaf, DeafBlind, DeafDisabled and Hard of Hearing individuals. My wife has been a board member there for several years, and they have great programming. March is her birthday month, so what better time to support them.

• March is also my oldest daughter’s birthday month (and in fact she and my wife share the same birthday). In honor of her soon turning 10, I’m working on a very fun list of my 10 favorite kids’ movies from the last decade (since that’s pretty much all I watch these days, and some of them are actually really good!).

• I completed a short story, but I’m still tinkering with it. Also I’m not sure it’s entirely a short story. Instead I’m describing it as, “A first-person essay written by a fictional character in the future.” I might publish that soon, but it will have to be on a day that I love it instead of hate it.

• That story description is one of several things I just looked back on from the notes app on my phone. I’ve tried keeping a notebook, as Drew Magary says he dutifully uses. I even bought two special notebooks several months ago, thinking that was the key to writing. Instead, I just keep jotting things down on my phone. In between grocery lists and ideas for how we can finally get the kids to bed on time, I'll find strange musings like this: “The ‘maximum water level’ sign is wet.” Or: “Data is the opposite of superstition, but the two often perform the same role: Trying to gain control over something uncontrollable or unpredictable.” Also: “Time ghost.” I hope my future self knows what to do with them. Maybe they’ll turn up here again someday?

• One of my favorite days of the year is two weeks from now. The clocks spring forward an hour, we get back the late sunlight we lost, and evening trips to the playground commence.

Here’s to the feeling of possibility and finding special spaces. It might take you a while, but you’ll know when you’re in the right place.