The Andalusian sun was slowly making its descent behind the the rocky slope of the Sacromonte, illuminating the façade of the Alhambra across the valley.
There were so many reasons I had come to Spain: to master the Spanish language, to study flamenco guitar with an gitano (a Spanish gypsy), to immerse myself in the culture of Andalusia, to taste the wine and the cheese and the jamón de pata negra…
But secretly, I had romanticized Andalusia. I had imagined it a sort of paradise; a warm and sunny land where the people were friendly and boisterous and the women were beautiful and passionate.
Although Andalusia was no paradise (it offered its share of hardships), most of what I’d dreamed was true.
The climate was warm and sunny, particularly on this day in late May. I found myself sweating as I sat on the patio in the early evening while meditating on the beauty of the Alhambra and the city below.
The people were, indeed, friendly and boisterous. Often, I’d be sitting alone outdoors on the terraza of some restaurant or bar enjoying a meal or a Spanish beer and a complementary tapa, and a neighboring couple would invite me to join them.
And yes, the women… many of them, anyway… were extraordinarily beautiful. Long, dark hair. Big, expressive eyes. Slender and firm from walking miles every day to get around the city. And well-proportioned. 😉
My parents were there with me on the patio. They had flown from Iowa to visit me in Spain. And it was on this evening that I broke the news to my parents.
“Mom… Dad… I’ve met a beautiful Spanish girl. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple months. I don’t know if it’s going to go anywhere. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But… I’m not going back to the United States. I’m going to stay here in Spain and see where life takes me.”
My parents, although noticeably sad, a little taken aback, and doing their best not to show how worried they felt, were supportive as ever. “Well, Dave, I know you’ll be just fine. You’re smart and capable. And you’ll be just fine.”
What I didn’t tell my parents was that I was terrified. I had no idea where I was going to live. I had no idea how I was going to earn a living. (I would technically be an illegal immigrant. So, legally I wouldn’t even be allowed to work.) And I would have no health insurance. What if I got sick or injured?
There was so much to figure out. So many obstacles. So much uncertainty. So much to overcome. And, unlike my parents, I wasn’t so sure I would “be just fine.”
In your mind and in your heart are dreams and aspirations. But the path of your personal adventure toward those destinations is marked by your fears and weaknesses. Follow those fears and weaknesses. Move toward them and through them. Let them be your guide. As you do, you’ll begin to realize that those dreams and aspirations are not what really matters. What really matters… what is really meaningful is the adventure itself. What really matters is moving toward and through and overcoming those fears and weaknesses. What really matters is the person you are becoming.