As you start traveling down that road of life, remember this:
There are never enough comfort stops. The places you’re going to are never on the map. And once you get that map out, you won’t be able to refold it no matter how smart you are. So forget the map, roll down the windows, and whenever you can, pull over and have a picnic with a pig.
And if you can help it, never fly as cargo.
~ Kermit the Frog (Jim Henson)
We’re moving New Year’s Day. Yep, a holiday. Home’s been up for me a while. But this move, not expected this way. Not with so many unknowns in our lives, with so many intentions that need time and space to put in place. Not during the holiday season when an extremely tight rental market gets tighter. With the door banging our backsides as we leave. I was scared at first, got angry. This house full of charm and natural light built 1910 is rotting from neglect on the outside as we’ve cleaned, cared for and maintained her. I’d lost the delight of the porch to dark damp and peeling paint from leaks breached in the ceiling and sidewalls, unattended for many months despite dozens of emails, texts, contractors solicited and met, reports and updates written to the landlord, the other half of the roof draped under a tarp. There should be good faith, I thought. In the midst, I could see myself focused on what I didn’t want, knew I had to shift, focus on what I do want. Remember I manifest miracles. I wanted another story.
So, once again, I described my ideal home. This time mindful as I wrote each line item. Seeing it, feeling it, rolling it around inside. Omitting items like size. A feeling of spaciousness written instead. I wanted my mind’s borders to roll back, soften. Physical space is important to me. I’m sensitive to it. And I wanted essentials. I started following fleeting thoughts, looked in places I’d once rejected. One dawn I walked to the bay with Gratitude on my lips and a radical (for us) idea emerged. The simple act of saying yes, why not without asking how brought the shift I sought. What I desire in home. Peace living in my intentions for the coming months. Beauty that feeds me. A kitchen that’s easy, that I love, because it’s where I launch my day with a glass of water, looking at the sky’s light. After my dawn walk, where I begin my Doing of the day as I steep a small pot of fine tea, add a tad of honey, creme to slightly light. A place I feel abundant, cared for, not stressed or distracted. Space inside and time to write, create in quietude. Dream, envision, be bold with offers. A place I take back my life. No longer fly cargo.
So, tho it may look conventional from the outside to be moving to a small, immaculate townhome after living nearly my entire adult life in historic neighborhoods, for this live and let live unconventional gal it is not. I can gaze upon water steps out my door (a long strip of a tiny manmade lake). I’m in the center of where I live life in St. Pete, where traffic’s easy. And tho it requires 3 minutes (timed) in the car, I’m close to the bay for morning walks. I surprised my husband with the choice. Essentials, I told him. Writers write.
What’s Home mean to you?
Never be so focused on what you’re looking for
that you overlook the thing you actually find.
~ Ann Patchett
Another small journey. Getting to Wise.
A Writers Life
Once bright days on the porch.
A favorite: How the heart opens wide when the mind does.
A secret: To someone from North Carolina, most Florida lakes are ponds.