brave new home

I’ve been bogged down in boxes lately.  Trying to pack up a life that has been explosively, deliciously, wonderfully jam-packed full of living.  Even in so short a time.  Trying to make sense of the decision we’ve made to move.  Knowing, for lots of reasons, it was the right decision.  Trying to move forward.  When all I want to do is look back.  And cry.  Buyer’s remorse?  Perhaps.  Whatever it is, it stinks.  All I can think of is how perfect our little house is.  How it has been home to us from the very start.  How it sheltered us through the good, the bad, the ugly and the bald.  We got married here.  Welcomed Nina home here.  Dealt with cancer here.  Planned and celebrated Jo’s bat mitzvah here.  It is all we’ve known as a family.  I know I felt this way when I left my tiny condo to move here.  That was home and shelter to me and Joita and Nik (our beloved German Shepherd).  Joita and I lived there, made friends there, grew watermelon in the back yard and Jo started school in that neighborhood school.  Joita had her first surgeries and recuperated there, learning to walk taller, straighter, more confidently.  Nikuda died there.  George entered our family there.  I couldn’t believe we were leaving it.  Even though it was to grow our family and add more love.

So what is it?  Why is change so hard for me?  Why, despite proof in experiences that have been overwhelmingly positive, do I still fear so much?  What is it that I so dread?  What is so scary about this unknown even after so many other unknowns have turned out well and offered much richness?  Is it human nature to look back at “the good old days” and see them edged in gold through rose-colored glasses any time the future looks even remotely uncertain?  And even though this has been the perfect house, the perfect home, why can I not bring those things that have made it wonderful into creating home elsewhere?  I’m sure we can.  Right?  But what do I do with these anxious feelings?  What do I do with the sadness of leaving our beloved home?  Pema would say, “just notice the feelings.  just feel them.  honor them.”

tulip

for a new home                                                                                                                                           May this house shelter your life.  When you come in home here, may all the weight of the world fall from your shoulders.  May your heart be tranquil here, blessed by peace the world cannot give.  May this home be a lucky place, where the graces your life desires always find the pathway to your door.  May nothing destructive ever cross your threshold.  May this be a safe place full of understanding and acceptance, where you can be as you are, without the need of any mask of pretense or image.  May this home be a place of discovery, where the possibilities that sleep in the clay of your soul can emerge to deepen and refine your vision for all that is yet to come to birth.  May it be a house of courage, where healing and growth are loved, where dignity and forgiveness prevail; a home where patience of spirit is prized, and the sight of the destination is never lost.  Though the journey be difficult and slow.  May there be great delight around this hearth.  May it be a house of welcome for the broken and diminished.  May you have eyes to see that no visitor arrives without a gift and no guest leaves without a blessing.

I love John O’Donohue.  As my anxiety and sadness come in these next few weeks (and perhaps even months), I will do as Pema would suggest.  I will notice and acknowledge and feel my feelings.  And then I will do as John O’Donohue would suggest.  I will bless my new home.

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About halitentwo

i am. god is. we are. as soon as i write something about me i change, am different, evolving. i am trans. i am a parent. i am a partner. i am a human. i am attempting to live a well-lived life in the spaces in between, beyond definition, fluid, dynamic, omnifarious and always changing. hopefully growing.
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