I actually have no idea how we got back to the start. Some folks might say that we never got off the journey and that would be true and false in the pretense of a big 'ole fork, I suppose. I get that selling the house and packing up our then one-&-three-year-olds for destination exotica must have seemed like a pretty gosh-darn Globally Groovy lifestyle. And well, I probably thought so myself at the time. But the Hope did eventually set in. As it does, I think when the babies come: I hope they are okay, I hope they stop crying, I hope I get some sleep tonight, I hope I get my yoga in today, I hope her fever doesn't get higher, I hope he'll eat his green beans, I hope I can take a bath in peace. Etcetera. So with a Fair Trade business and the last name Hope, what chance did we have but to wither in hope? I know, I know. I know. It's not exactly what you think of when you hear hope, but me and hope, we've had quite an interesting relationship over the past 9 Chiang Mai years. And I really have no idea what prompted me one day to want to kick the shit out of hope. But I did. You see, one can't simply hold onto hope. Hope is something you clutch to, sometimes desperately. Hope kept food in the fridge. Really, it did. But it was a bit confining for me. And now to get all Buddha on you--Hope is always in the future. And Global Groove is now. It's a different vibration altogether. I have plenty of hope, just not enough Global Groove.
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