Meet Montana: Fuck Your Story, Here’s Reality

Story 1

Me: “Life is a story waiting to be written.” 

Montana: “F$ck your stories. Here’s reality.”

That proverbial conversation took place right around week 4 of what’s now been a 16 month journey in Montana.

I got four weeks of life according to my vision and plans. And then, just as the clock struck week 4, it all crumbled. 

The business partnership I had lined up before moving out here? They ghosted me. Told me in person, in email, and over lunch that this was a go, only to disappear without explanation.

The guy I was seeing upon arriving here? I mean, would you keep seeing someone who casually referenced John Gotti as a model for handling an “unruly” wife? Me either.

So there I was, four weeks in, and the stories of hope and excitement that had been the light at the end of tunnel for me through a massive cross-country move to a place where I knew no one had come to their natural end. The initiation process had begun.

I was story-less. And ripe for the forging Montana would carry out within me over the next fifteen months, without my realizing it at the time.

Fast forward to present day, and I’m pleased to say that I’ve been initiated. I’m in. It’s official.

Not because I received a certificate of completion from a local, or conquered a feat of the land like the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.

No, I’m initiated because of a shift that occurred within me on New Year’s Day.

Insight came barreling through in a lens-shifting moment, shortly after I finally 'Montana’d' a man from my past who has a habit of reappearing. I’ll explain more about that later.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

To understand where I am now, we have to go back to the beginning, to the glorious River’s Edge park in Columbia Falls where Finn and I had made our daily place for walks.

One Sunday evening, I was meeting a new guy, another transplant, and I was looking forward to hearing about his experience here. I admired his non-judgmental way of seeing Montanans, especially as I was still reeling from professional ghosting and Gotti guy.

As he explained the complicated but complimentary nature of Montana, he said:

“Montanans will watch you struggle and struggle. And only when it becomes clear that you’re going to drown will they rescue you.”

He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t being cruel. He was stating a fact.

And just like that, I knew remaining verdictless here would not be comfortable.

You see, my favorite kind of mind is the beginner’s mind. The one that sees potential and possibility before vision narrows and solidifies. It’s in this mind that neutrality reigns, where observation and reverence remain accessible.

But I was already forming opinions about this place. I had “proof” and reasons to conclude 4 weeks in that Montana sucks. 

But I knew better.

That would have been nothing more than a personal boo-hoo conclusion based on a few early collisions with generational Montanans.

And, as with any good story - one where the protagonist actually comes through an ordeal into an eventual elixir state - you have to be willing to withhold premature conclusion. 

You’ve got to stay in the lived story - even if it isn’t pleasant -  long enough to reach the end state of insight where neutrality and better - appreciation - become your truth, not just an intellectual concept.

So, I strapped in. 

The stories that follow are from the fifteen months I was being initiated by Montana. Forged by her nature. Stripped of everything but reality. For reasons that now make beautiful, harmonious sense.

Montana is a place like no other I’ve encountered. I can’t wait to tell you about it.

In addition to the creative parameters I’ve given myself for each post, including a factual element about something unique to Montana, I’ve also created a glossary of terms I’ll reference throughout this series. I’ll link to it as needed. Consider it a language map for Meet Montana.

And with that, I’ll close here.  See you in the next story.

“F$ck Your Story. Here’s Reality.”

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