When I try to trace the events in my life that have brought me here it’s like untangling Christmas lights. Just when I think I’ve found the kink, reached the twisted end or beginning, there’s another loop, another tangle, and a new knot.
My formative years ended when my parents decided to leave Indiana and move us to Knoxville, Tennessee. I went to a small school in Anderson where my classmates were like family to me. I couldn’t imagine my life without my closest friends. My heart ached, I was miserable and I despised my parents’ decision.
Knoxville welcomed me, my anger faded, and I made new friends. I found new opportunities, and explored a new city: the Sun Sphere, Norris Lake, Litton’s Restaurant, and the Smokey Mountains. I sold ads for the Knoxville News-Sentinel and wrote for the college newspaper. Income came for me dressed as a security guard, a cabinet deliveryman, and as a typesetter for a commercial printer. I saved practically all that I earned so I could afford to go to Columbia College Chicago and study writing.
So I left Knoxville for Chicago. I fell in love immediately: a fresh water ocean two blocks east, Harry Carey and the Chicago Cubs two blocks west, and the Red Line El betwixt the two. School was intense, wonderful, and creative. After three semesters I was invited to teach a few college classes in exchange for tuition. My teaching at Columbia College opened doors into adult education, consulting, and writing.
I had great friends and was in love with life. Chicago was good and exciting, but not everything was good and exciting. Summation: marriage, baby, divorce. Things that were to be simple suddenly became damn serious and damn complicated. So I begrudgingly left Chicago for Indianapolis. I vowed that it’d be a short stay in the Circle City and I’d return to Chicago just as soon as I got things worked out.
Things don’t always work out.
Thirteen years ago I’m riding the upper crest of adult education and technology. Opportunity keeps knocking and I keep answering: it’s consulting, training, writing. It’s conference, tradeshow, publishers. The money river is flowing and I believed that it was never going dry. And all this cash helps keep my young mind off the divorce, off the old college courses, and off the misery of upheaval, lost ambition, and the onset of depression. Time may heal all wounds, but cash is like a morphine drip.
I’ve had some great experiences, created memories, and accomplished life-altering goals here in Indiana. And I’ve connected to incredible friends; these are people I love, respect, and admire. I’ve been fortunate to make friends from all sorts of backgrounds, careers, and interests. I didn’t grow up with these people, but we found common ground.
While happiness is good, not all of life is happy. When I talk about being happy I’m really talking about joy. I asked myself. “Joe, what makes you joyful? How can you get more joy in your life?” So I experimented with what I thought was joy, with things I thought would make me happy. What I learned from my experiments is that it’s easy to mistake pleasure for joy. Joy and pleasure may be distant cousins, but they are not brothers.
I’ve read that joy is simply a decision, but if this is true, can’t I decide to just be happy all the time? How do I make that decision? Can’t I decide to be happy in Indiana just as I could decide to be happy in Hawaii? Or Brussels? Or Papua New Guinea for that matter?
Joy is an emotion, just as anger, or sadness, or excitement are emotions. You can make a decision to experience any emotion you like. Want to be angry? Be angry. Want to be happy? Be happy. But emotions are more than just decisions. Here’s something obvious: conditions greatly influence the emotions you feel. Lose your car keys when you’re already running late and I bet you’ll have a tough time deciding to be joyful.
It’s reasonable to believe that if circumstances affect our emotions we can change circumstances in order to change emotions. External conditions have a direct influence on internal conditions. But does this work the other way around? Can I change emotions in order to change circumstances? I think so, that’s the fundamentals of positive thinking. I do believe in positive thinking, but I put more faith in positive doing.
So I’m positively leaving Indiana.
I am thankful for what I’ve experienced and what Indiana has brought me. When I look on all the good in my life, my family, my friends, my health, and opportunity, I realize that I am fortunate. I realize, however, that I want and need more in my life than what Indiana has to offer. I want to experience life beyond this state, this culture, and the familiar. I am not being judgmental of what my peers and neighbors value; I respect that their beliefs, their interests, and their goals are different than mine. There’s an aggregate of reasons why I have made this decision, this choice. The fundamental reason, however, is that I want to explore more in my life. My return to Indiana was not planned and I’ve lived with a sense that I moved here because I had to, not because I wanted to. For many years I lived with a sense of guilt of why I was here: desperation, a broken heart, discarded dreams, and despair. Just as the Indiana winter seems to linger so too did my clouds, my chill, my gloom.
But now the clouds are parting, I can see sunshine, and I feel good. I have an opportunity to leave, to move on, and I’m taking it. In June I’ll be leaving Indiana for Sarasota, Florida. With the warm gulf breeze, the swaying palms, and the year-long sunshine I feel good. I can think clearly. My writing snaps. I have energy, peace, and motivation. This is one of those instances when what I want is also what I need.
As wonderful as sunshine is, I do think about my financial well-being. It’s no secret that the economy is sickly. Companies have sliced training from their budgets like you’d cut fat from a pot roast. Consider the mass amounts of layoffs and it’s easy to understand why training has been scrapped. With fewer people working there are fewer people to attend my seminars. And with fewer employees organizations cannot send massive groups through classes - someone has to be in the office to get the work done.
Financially, the past year has been the worst year for me as a trainer since I started. Add to this that the bulk of my business is not in Indiana. In fact, I made more income in Belgium last year than here in Indiana. Indiana has never been a training destination with Chicago and Cincinnati so close. My training has been in New York, Tampa, Chicago, and Columbus, Ohio. Sure, I’ve taught many classes in Indianapolis, just not enough to sustain my business.
Yes, I see myself continuing to teach project management, but my focus will tighten on writing opportunities. I feel a longing to write beyond books on project management. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the opportunities to write on project management, I love it. Having said that, know that I have a few manuscripts that I’m working to sell. Basically, when I write, I feel good. I am a writer so I might as well write in the year-round sunshine and near sugar-white beaches.
Sarasota offers those experiences I want in my life. I want to learn, really learn, how to sail. I’ve sailed on Lake Michigan and I miss the lapping waves, wind on my face, and the flap of tightening sail. I’ve harbored a secret: I want to live, eventually, on a sailboat even if just for a few months. This may happen in a year or maybe two, but it’ll happen I’m certain.
For the past decade I have lived on a busy suburban corner where every person in my neighborhood gets to drive by my house every single day. Step outside my front door and I can promise that within a minute you’ll hear the cars without mufflers, the growl of the Harley, or the thunk-thunk-thunk of some kid’s bass. Sometimes you can get all three at once - it’s the trifecta of aggravating noise. And if I want to go anywhere I have to drive.
I have learned that I have the noise and traffic of the city without any of the conveniences. From my experience in Indiana I’ve learned that I don’t like to drive. In Sarasota I’ll be living downtown near restaurants, the library, the art scene, and the harbor. I will be a walk or a bike ride away from anything. I’m sure it won’t be perfect, but I think it’ll be better.
While I am eager to move on I know what I’ll miss the most. It’s the same thing I missed all those years ago when we moved in high school: my friends. I value the friendships I’ve made over the past decade and it pains me to think of the distance between us. For my friends there’s an open invitation to Florida anytime you’d like to come. I consider you the best part of Indiana and the worst part of leaving.
I’m trying to be logical about this decision, but I accept that there’s more than logic at play here. My heart tells me this is a good thing. My heart tells me it’s time to go. My heart tells me I need this. When I consider how long it’s been since my heart trumped any logic I know this is real.
Goodbye, Indiana. Thanks for memories, the friends I’ve made, and the time to heal. Thanks for the hot, sticky summers, the orange and gold of autumn, the cold, white winters, and the sudden burst of spring. Thanks for a safe place to live, and good neighbors, and good people. Thank you for the distance between then and now and the preparation for today and tomorrow. Thank you for letting me come and go.
