Fork in the Road, Anyone? (Part 1)

Intentions, Decisions, Adulting and the Art of Not Bolting!
​
The scary truth is the cards called me out today. Hard. I am circling more than one life-altering decision — the kind I’ve been dodging like a teenager dodges doing dishes — until today.

It’s the Full Buck Moon, July 2025, and as usual, I pulled seven oracle cards, like I do every full and new moon. Seven’s a nice number — Past, Present, Hidden, Obstacle, Helper, Action, Outcome — simple, not too woo-woo, just enough mystery to keep me entertained. Today? The deck wasn’t playing.

Three of the seven were cards I’d never drawn before, and they came in swinging. Orphaned — oh, cool, thanks, Universe, let’s talk abandonment! How I’ve felt about family lately, not all, but enough to make me consider moving to a yurt. Cue the soundtrack to the Fantasy Family Funeral Tour, rolling into town again Monday with another “celebration of life” social event to smile through.  Then came Chaos and Conflict — my two least favorite hobbies, thank you very much. And the cherry on top? Fork in the Road — basically a giant cosmic finger pointing at me going, “Decide, missy. We’re not doing this maybe/maybe-not dance forever.” And here’s the kicker: no wrong decision. Just make one.

Later, reading The Seat of the Soul with Maia, the chapter on intention smacked me right in the third eye. Gary Zukav writes: “Every experience, and every change in your experience, reflects an intention. An intention is not only a desire. It is the use of your will. If you do not like the relationship you have with your husband or with your wife, for example, and you would like it to be different, that desire alone will not change your relationship. If you truly desire to change your relationship, that change begins with the intention to change it. How it will change depends upon the intention that you set. If you intend that your relationship become harmonious and loving, that intention will open you to new perceptions. It will reorient you toward harmony and love so that you can see clearly from that perspective what is necessary to change your relationship, and if that is achievable. If you intend to end your relationship, that ending begins with the intention to end it. If you have conflicting intentions, you will be torn, because both dynamics will be set in motion and oppose each other.”

Insanity. Chaos. Conflict. Crossed intentions. Sound familiar?

So here I am, 18 years, 6 months, 10 days, 15 hours, 54 minutes, and 25 seconds — roughly — into a relationship that’s a record for both of us. We agreed early on that marriage wasn’t necessary or desirable. Then, in September 2022, I proposed. He said yes. We announced it. No date, no plans, no ceremony. I thought maybe January 1, 2027, for our 20th anniversary, but let’s be honest: the enthusiasm has dwindled to almost nothing.

We’re both introverts. Okay, fine — anti-social weirdos. The idea of planning a wedding makes us both want to fake our own deaths. His dad, who I wanted to marry us, is gone. His mom, who would have thrown herself into the party planning, is now deep in Alzheimer’s. And me? I’m here, holding a proposal with no plan, and a heart full of huh? Meanwhile, his nephew just got engaged, which shoves my stalled-out situation back into the spotlight like an unwanted karaoke solo. The cards weren’t wrong: it’s time to get clear.

Here’s the part that makes me squirm: there’s a tiny (but loud and independent) voice in me — always an itch for a Plan B. The Peace Corps, a mountain retreat, or a lifelong subscription to wild places and spiritual breakthroughs — preferably without a single grumpy human in sight. Ha! Good luck with that. Live with him, or live without him? Go all in, or slip out the side door to a life of my own? I feel the pull of both. No picket fences, no babies. Just the rest of my life, every day, starting now.

As I write this, I realize the cards didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. They just put it in black and white, in tiny illustrated rectangles, laid out across my table. They called out my lack of commitment — not just to my relationship, but to my writing, my self-care, my own mental and physical well-being. And here’s the truth: I have the tools. I have the meditation practice. I have the damn Ben Franklin list (yes, listed in Section 8 of the Field Guide, in case I need to reread my own book). I have the ability to pause, reflect, get curious, and — shocker — make a decision.

I don’t have the answer tonight. But I know this: I want to choose love — not just as a default, but as an intention. I want to choose life — not as a duty, but as a blessing. And I want to choose myself, first, always, so I have something whole to bring to the table. So, yeah — I’ll meditate. I’ll make my lists. I’ll write it out, even when it’s messy. And then I’ll choose some clear, perfectly imperfect intentions. Maybe not once and for all, but at least for this month. Stay tuned. 

An image of the actual Full Buck Moon. Thanks Chris!

---