Who said this would be easy????

As you might imagine, the phrase,“I’m moving to the Virgin Islands!” comes up often these days.

“Great! Piece of cake!” is not, however, the usual response. In fact, this is the one response I haven’t heard.  Is moving to the Caribbean easy?  Not so much.  Wonderful?  Yes.  Exciting?  Absolutely!   And, along with all of the wonderful excitement is a surprising amount of… pain.

I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t drawn a line between the word columns in my head associating ‘paradise’ with ‘pain.’  Joy, happiness, abundance, unspoiled beauty….these are the words that first came to mind.  I even anticipated ‘challenging’ and ‘discomfort’ (i.e. “you’re going to feel a slight pinch.”); however, when conceiving Project Paradise, ‘pain’ wasn’t one of the contingencies.

But I’m not IN paradise yet.  As it, and my husband, patiently wait for me to join them, I’m still in the process of getting from here to there.  And what feels like a dull ache has been with me since I put the first pair of pumps in the box labeled “Donate.”

Some days, the process seems endless.  Since we’re selling, donating, or gifting at least 95% of our earthly belongings, it’s not the actual packing that’s difficult; it’s the sifting.  Consider that when you self-fund a 3000+ mile relocation, and more than half of those miles are open ocean, you end up taking very little with you and letting go of everything else.  And deciding what 5% to keep is a lot like sifting through a mountain of sand, one grain at a time. (“Like grains of sand through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives,” says a deep voice in my head.)

Put another way, it’s a bit like having your life flash before your eyes, only in really, really s..l..o..w, agonizing motion.  At the end of each day, I feel like I’ve attended a funeral…emotionally drained, with a lightness of being that comes with finality and closure.

Before I continue, I can hear some of you groaning, “Is she really complaining about moving to the Caribbean?  Giving up a pair of shoes? Are you kidding me right now?”  (And the rest of you are smiling and laughing because schadenfreude delights you. You’re welcome.)

Believe me, I get how absurd it sounds.  But don’t give up on me yet, because if the whole idea of ‘paradise’ turns out to be a crock, and I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life, don’t you want to know? At least so you can save yourself and trade it in for a better dream?

I’ll admit to griping a bit.  At the same time, I’m doing it with a sense of gratitude (there should be a word for this).   And I’m willing to bet that griping is exactly what you would be doing if you were in my shoes.  And that is part of the point, wouldn’t you agree?  A chance for you to walk through the experience and figure out where reality matches the dream, and where it doesn’t?

So, true, this part of the journey isn’t easy. We all know it as a ‘transition,’ and, if we’re very fortunate, we are blessed with many.  And we all know that loss often goes hand-in-hand with transitions, which is why we rarely consciously sign up for them.  Instead, we usually come barreling up on them at 100 miles per hour with our eye on the prize.  Soon, we realize we will have to empty our hands of something we hold dear before we are able to pick up something new.

While this particular leg of the journey is turning out to be miles longer than it looked on the map, it is the road I chose.  So even on the day I was pummeled by the gut-grabbing news that our beloved cat’s health is probably too fragile to make the journey with us, I was able to re-center myself in a place of gratitude and acceptance for “what is.”

“Is it all worth it?” someone recently asked.

“Absolutely!”  I wouldn’t have it any other way.



Ever thought about moving to paradise?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to leave it all behind, move to a tropical island, and live your dream?  Well, we have, too.  Now my husband and I are in the middle of relocating to the Caribbean. You know…. turquoise water, white sand beaches, palm trees, perpetual summer…..yes, there!

You may be thinking, “Who really does that?”  Of course, everyone is in love with the idea….but it’s nearly a violation of a sacred trust to actually do it.

Sure, like most of you, we’re aware that their are plenty of reasons for leaving well enough alone.  We were happy, living in a beautiful city along the front range of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. Good jobs, majestic mountains, four seasons, 300+ days of sunshine, good friends and family. Life was good!

Admittedly, our decision may not have been rational… it’s something other… a decision informed by things like dreams, intuition, instinct, and “callings.”

So, if you’re also in love with the idea of moving to paradise, or you’re one of those special people who believes in dreams coming true, then you’re in the right place to explore the possibility without all the mess and fuss.

I’ll save you the trouble of quitting your job and having your friends and family question your sanity. I’ve already left my job (with all of the mixed emotions you might imagine) and defended my mental health, and Project Paradise is full speed ahead.

Please, stick around!  I invite you to join me on the journey. I’ll do all the heavy lifting, and you can try it on, risk-free, and find out if the reality is anything like you imagine it.   I can’t promise that it will be, but I can promise you a true life story unfolding in real-time… a candid recounting of my experience leaving a conventional American life to explore the possibilities on a tropical island and ‘living the dream’ with the love of my life!

Come on, let’s order up a round of rum punch and have some island fun!


Mended Spirits

Perhaps, like mine,

your spirit has been mended

in the broken places.

You know . . .

those wounds we sustain

from traveling halfway around

the Circle of Life.

For some of us, life begins

in the middle. . .

as a firestorm of loss and change,

and the deepest despair we’ve ever known.

And through it all we are kept aloft

like a feather caught by a breeze . . .

with nothing beneath us but the breath of angels.

We learn that scorched earth

is as much a beginning as it is an ending,

intended not to punish but to cleanse;

and that love and life are eternal.

Revealed are our seeds of Truth,

rooted in the fertile soil

of Wisdom and Gratitude.

And it is there that we grow and thrive

in the unfiltered brilliance of infinite possibility.

And so, this is the way our spirits are strengthened . . .

at first by the breaking; and at last by the mending.


Dance of Compassion

I know life hasn’t been gentle with you lately . . .

I just want to help you remember

that many of life’s extraordinary blessings

come to us masquerading

as our most profound challenges.

For, how else are we to discover

the full depth and measure of ourselves?

How else are we to fully appreciate

that which matters most?

How else to experience

the fullness of our humanity?

And, to fully understand compassion?

Our ultimate comfort is not to be found in gaining control of life.

Rather, we are triumphant when we find ways to accept life

with a grateful heart. A heart that transcends our fears

with the eternal wisdom that, no matter what happens,

we are always whole and complete.

So, my friend, I simply wish to remind you that you are loved.

Allow yourself to rest in the knowledge

that you are all that you need to be,

have all you need to have,

and know all you need to know

to manage the fullness that is life’s perfection.

And then, even when it shows up

no matter its costume,

you have only to thank if for coming,

and then to invite it to dance.


Do you have the time?

Something happened today that perfectly illustrates why I believe we need more breathing room in our densely-packed, over-scheduled lives.

An old friend’s father died. Suddenly.  This was not a scheduled event.  It wasn’t penciled-in  on anyone’s calendar in advance.

It is, however, an event of importance.  Certainly it was to my old friend and his family.  And to me, as well.  My friend is important to me.  My value of caring and comfort are important to me.  My value of service to others is important to me.  My value that “matters of the soul matter” is important to me.

I did the only thing I knew to do.  I borrowed time.  Correction –  I flat out stole it.  I have no intention of returning it to the place from where it was taken.  No interest will accumulate.

And let’s be clear. There is no one to blame here. There is no regret. We do what we must do about the things that matter most because to NOT do so leaves us feeling less than whole.

A little less sleep.  One less poem is written.  A little less time with family may be spent. A meal may be skipped. A decision may be made to go without Almond Milk until the weekend.  Somehow, you just fit it in.

I don’t know how to be more spiritually “efficient.”   Caring about and for others takes time.  Being of service to others takes time.  It’s often messy and inefficient because human souls are just like that sometimes.

What are we to do when something  important comes along  and we have no idle resources available to apply to it?

How do you make time to show you care?


Happy New Year!

Wow, did you get a glimpse of it?  Like a shooting star, the past year seemed to bolt across the canvas of our lives as if it were only an instant, yet the distances we traveled were significant.

Marty spent a lot of time as a “road warrior,” continuing to enjoy and grow while leading Sungard Availability Services’ quality assurance initiatives. He reports the dubious honor of earning his way into the highest echelon of frequent flyer status on two major airlines. We’re always thankful when he returns home safely, and if it happens that he returns on schedule, and with his baggage, that is all icing on the cake!  He continued to provide for us as Bridget nurtured her holistic real estate practice in the midst of uncertainty, and the opportunities that come along with it.

Summer means Adventure!! so we embarked on “An Expedition of Southwestern Colorado.”  We took off on the 4th of July to explore some of the bounty this great state has to offer.  First stop: Glenwood Caverns, where we went deep under ground and inside Iron Mountain, crawling on our bellies and contorting our bodies to fit ourselves through some of the most unlikely passages leading from one naturally formed cavern to the next.  Marty was afraid they’d have to grease him up to get him through some of the holes we went through!

While Marty never did get stuck Winnie the Pooh-style, it was an exciting and amazing experience none the less. Entering into and crawling through an awesome natural phenomenon that is relatively untouched and undisturbed was truly thrilling. To see a variety of unusual organisms that live without any sunlight was life-affirming. To feel the darkest darkness that has ever closed over you is sublime.  To feel the lump of fear rising in your chest before catching somewhere in your throat as you realize that you are sitting alone under tons and tons of solid rock in a small dark chamber that millions of years ago was filled with acidic water and no exit is visible to you . . .  and you have now gone farther down the rabbit hole than you ever imagined . . .  is terrifying.  Letting go of that fear and allowing joy to take its place is exhilarating!

Such intense physical exertion had to be followed up with a long soak in the hot springs pool that made Glenwood Springs famous.  Feeling rejuvenated the next day, we enjoyed a beautiful drive down toward Gunnison to the rim of the Black Canyon where we stood in awe of Nature and Time, and could neither see nor hear any evidence of another human being.

Back in the car and on to Montrose, down through Ouray and into Durango.  All in all, it had to be the most magnificently scenic drive either of us has ever taken.  There are no pictures or words that can do justice to the majesty that is so abundant here.

At the end of the day, we rolled into Durango where the next day was spent riding the old steam engine train up to Silverton and back.  Marty found he didn’t much care for the rocking motion of the train.  Now, he doesn’t mind being thrown around every which way in an airplane, but give him the safe, comforting back-and-forth motion of the train, and he starts to get a little pale!

The next day, we left Durango and soon were climbing around in the ancient cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde to walk in the footholds of the Ancestral Puebloans.  That night was spent in peaceful Pagosa Springs and the next day was a full day driving home.  Whirlwind, beautiful, fun, and memorable!

The following week we were back in Indiana for the annual Foltz family reunion, always a highlight of our summer, and always much too brief.  It was bittersweet without Granny Foltz, who we laid to rest in the spring.  God wanted that piece of heaven back.  We truly miss her.

Bridget was so happy to get some bonus time with Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Monty when they stopped overnight on their way to Colorado Springs after having taken in the Frontier Days Rodeo in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  Marty, unfortunately, was racking up those miles and missed the whole thing.

Marty began winding down the summer with the annual hike up one of Colorado’s fourteeners with friends who heroically made it to Denver from Chicago a day or two later than planned. This year it was Quandary Peak, elevation 14,265’, making it the 13th highest in Colorado.

Just before Labor Day we enjoyed some time together in Las Vegas while Marty attended a leadership conference.  Bridget found that lounging near a gorgeous pool for hours in intense, dry heat, bright sun, and quiet solitude was the ideal creative environment.

Two weeks later we were back in Nevada making our annual pilgrimage to The Reno Air Races, where aviation enthusiasts with spine and character congregate to celebrate speed, power, daring, and love of Country.  We’re sorry for all the Sallies who just couldn’t put on their long pants in time to be able to join us.  Better luck next year?

Thanksgiving brought us again to Indiana.  It is astounding what an inch or two of snow can do to a highway stretched flat across the Kansas prairie.  Bridget had her eyes screwed shut. Marty’s were wide open.  Luckily, Marty was the one behind the wheel.

Somewhere along the line we have been adopted by one, and then later, a second feral cat. The first we eventually named Roger after a character in a Comcast commercial.  The second cat immediately became known as Bob due to his . . . we prefer to use the term “inadvertently abbreviated” rather than “severed” . . . tail.  He found his way to our house during a barbeque we were hosting, and hasn’t been off of our property since.  He’s a little worse for wear: his long gray fur is a little rough and matted, his “meow” sounds like he’s been smoking two packs a day for the last 50 years, and yet he has a gentle charm that makes you want to keep feeding him day after day.

As seasons tend to do this far north, fall eventually fell into winter.  The rhythm of life changed, and the living arrangements had to as well when temperatures dropped below freezing.  Bridget crafted two cozy cat houses, each made out of a polystyrene foam container used to ship meat, duct tape, and a heretofore unopened roll of Con-Tact® paper that may possibly pre-date Marty.  Once filled with shredded newspaper and placed under the eaves in the protection of the courtyard, order and warmth were restored.  Bridget & Marty still sleep indoors.

The year in short:  We laughed out loud, learned something new about the world and each other, played with our food, served in the Civil Air Patrol, stared down fear at least once, shed tears of both joy and sorrow, were blessed with two visits with Jeff & Ilona, loved with our whole hearts, lost a water heater off the back of the truck on the way home from the store and had to go right back and buy another one, discovered new answers to old questions and asked new questions of old answers, celebrated 4 years of marriage, entertained new ideas and different points of view, made new friends, didn’t always do the best job at staying in touch with old ones but we keep trying to do better, believed in the possible and impossible, and danced to the rhythm of life as best we could with our hearts open wide.

And, here we are at the time of year when we all hopefully slow down and reflect on where we’ve been and, more importantly, where we’re headed.  May this find you safe and well!  We’ll keep you close in our prayers, and hold our vision of all of the good and wonder that is possible for all of us in the coming year!  Happy New Year!!!!