Dear Marcus,

It’s been a bumpy ride. Six years ago two days from now we were passed out drunk and naked, hugging a toilet seat, having just broken up with the first and only person we’ve ever thought we were going to marry. It wasn’t pretty. And boy were we wrong about him. (Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.) Anyway, it was touch and go there for a while. We didn’t know where we were going to live, how we were going to pay the rent, or how we were going to heal That Which Was Broken. We were so confused. Thankfully, only one week before all of this occurred we had our first therapy session and met our guardian angel. (Who knew angels could wear Kesha T-shirts and curse like sailors?) Which just goes to show you that Maria in The Sound of Music was right. When the lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.

Granted, there were some rough days, some hole-in-our chest moments when nothing made sense. Now we know this was simply The Mystery, The Necessary Mystery. Said another way, it was The Healing. Which is, of course, crooked as a dog’s hind leg, anything but fun, and, well, just plain gross at times. For us it meant a lot of time in therapy, completely rewiring the way we thought, getting some damn boundaries, and changing or saying goodbye to oh-so-many relationships. Also, and I’m sorry about this, it meant a lot of empty pockets.

I’ll explain.

Despite the fact that you’d done a lot of internal work three-and-a-half years ago, the powers that be weren’t quite satisfied. As it turns out, they demand the best. In other words, they want the best for us. So they did what they often do when someone they care about isn’t living up to their full potential. They make them absolutely miserable. In your case this misery pushed you to close your dance studio, sell most of your earthly possessions, and move from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fayetteville, Arkansas, with the intention of moving to Austin, Texas, where many people (who haven’t checked your Facebook page in over three years) still think you are. Even though you never went. Indeed, that was your plan. But not you-know-who’s plan, which is why it didn’t work out. (He always gets his way.) This is why it was a good thing you didn’t have more money than you did. Because–let’s face it–if you’d had the money you would have gone “come hell or high water” and missed out on The Opportunity.

Because you’re so damn stubborn.

Also, don’t worry. Stubbornness is a good thing. Because life isn’t for sissies. It just means that you don’t always have the most patience. Like someone recently told you, “You’re happy to give God the reigns, but if he hasn’t done anything with them in ten minutes you take them back.”

(Correct.)

Getting back to your move to Fayetteville, that obviously didn’t work out either, and I know that few adult men would be thrilled about moving back in with their parents. Which you had to do. But again, this was by design. As you’ve told a number of people these last three years, it’s given you a chance to mend, heal, and grow relationships you couldn’t have otherwise. It’s given you a chance to be understanding. And to be understood. And whereas it’s tempting to think you’ve somehow missed out on life because you haven’t spent the last three years making a shitpot full of money or “being like everybody else,” the things you’ve busied yourself about are the things that really matter and make life WORTH living. The things that matter to your soul and the things that make you fully human.

So never regret getting to know me.

Please.

It’s worth every minute.

I promise.

Speaking of the last few years and specifically what you’ve done with and through this blog, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I realize it hasn’t set the world, or even the internet, on fire, but it has set us on fire. Again, this is what matters. For us, this has been the royal road, the way, The Path. The Path out of suffering. The Path back home. Sure, you didn’t have any idea what you were getting yourself into when you sat down three years ago tomorrow and wrote your first post, but I did. Additionally, through both your best days and your most challenging days, your–what’s the phrase you use?–that-makes-my-ass-want-buttermilk kind of days, I’ve been cheering you on and nudging you forward. Darling, don’t give up. Don’t you dare give up. I’m waiting for you.

I know this hasn’t been easy. I also know that you’re not quite sure where to go from here. There’s a part of you that wants to hang on to this project that’s been so good for us. And still there’s another part that’s so effing ready to let go, so excited to see what’s next that you can hardly wait to hit Publish and move on. Allow all your feelings, but lean into this second part. Get excited. You’ve worked your ass off here, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Congratulations! Celebrate. Your life’s not over, it’s only just beginning. What’s more, although I know you often think and believe that you try, try, try and get nowhere, all your hard work has actually paid off. It continues to pay off. You read all those damn books about healing, and now you’re one of those people those books talk about. Yes, we know things aren’t perfect, but you’re headed in the right direction. So keep going. And just know that you’re already a success story.

You know those magical days when you wake up and you can see it, feel it, almost taste it? Those days when you absolutely know that you’re exactly where you need to be, learning and doing what you need to be learning and doing? Those days when you know nothing is an accident, that the people who are in your life, all those wonderful friends, teachers, and mentors, were sent to you for a reason? That you were sent to each other for a reason? Those days when you can feel in your bones that nothing is random? Well, keep thinking these things, keep believing these things. You’ll doubt at times, of course, since that’s what the mind does here on planet earth. But know that I never do. My faith in you and The Way of It is rock solid.

My faith in us is rock solid.

So keep your chin up.

You know that Joseph Campbell fella you’re so madly in love with? He said, “Schopenhauer said that when you go through life, this character appears, that character appears, and it all seems accidental at the time it is happening. Then when you get on in your sixties or seventies and look back, your life looks like a well-planned novel with a coherent theme. Things have happened, you realize, in an appropriate way. Incidents that seemed to be accidental, pure chance, turn out to be major elements in the structuring of this novel. Schopenhauer says, ‘Who wrote the novel? You did.'” I couldn’t agree more. Things have happened in an appropriate way. But it’s not that you wrote the novel, it’s that I did. We did. So from here on out, just know that you have a partner in all this.

No one is alone, and that includes you.

Going forward, I’m not discouraging you from planning. I know you like to do that. And yet, as you’ve come to see time and time again, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. What’s more, sometimes what you think are the worst things turn out to be the best things. Because they put us on the path back to ourselves. Really, this is the only path there is. The only game in town, it’s the pearl of great value, the true buried treasure, the kingdom of heaven. So it’s worth all the time, pain, and heartache and whatever you have to give up in order to find it. It’s worth all The Hard Work, all the icky emotions and past experiences you have to dig through and sort out, and all the judgment you have to endure from others and yourself. Because when it’s all said and done, what profits a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul?

All this to say, Marcus, please stay open to what’s coming down the pike. Please stay open to, and expect, miracles. They happen. And are kind of God’s thing. Also, please remember the he/she/it is rather fond of you. Just like I’m rather fond of you. I mean, good lord, you’re a knockout, you’re smart as whip and have a killer personality and sense of humor (although I know your family may disagree, but, in the words of your father, they have to live with you), and you have a good rear end to boot. What’s not to love? Said another way, what more do you want?

(Some cash would be nice.)

Relax, already. It’s coming. We’re in the middle of a recession.

But seriously, you’ve been given everything you need to succeed. And whereas this has always been the case, now that you’ve walked the royal road, you know it. Deep down. What’s more, now that you’ve come to know yourself, things are going to get easier. The next half of your life is going to look so much different than the first half. So much better. Not that you’ll never face another challenge again–you certainly will–but you’ll handle things better. With more grace. There will be a steadiness about you that you didn’t have before, a confidence, an internal anchor. A part of you that knows that, come what may, I have what it takes and am going to be all right. And just know that if the world ever gets to be too much, you can always reach out and find me. You can sit down at this keyboard ANY TIME YOU’D LIKE, and we can fix whatever it is together. Or just call my name, and I’ll come running.

That is if I don’t call you first. Which, honestly, I probably will. Because, Marcus Anderson Coker, I’m not done with you yet. Plus, I’ve always called you first, since it’s kind of my job to pursue you. You see, Darling, I just can’t stand to be without you. Without us. We are, after all, better together than we are apart. Surely by now you agree.

With all my love,

Your heart (your sweet heart)