We are moving.
I haven’t talked about it much to anyone by family and close friends because people always ask the question, “Are you sure you want to move?” My answer is always the same, “Not really, but we are moving just the same.”
We are moving in with my father in law, to help him and help keep him in the best health possible. It was a family decision that we have been discussing for over a year, but two months ago it changed from a discussion to a plan and from a plan into action – action that has involved an awful lot of paint, spackle and cardboard boxes.
Two months of Joe and I having unexpected health problems (mine are all grounding and first chakra related), two months of trips to Goodwill and the dump, two months of unending visits to the hardware store, two months of plumbing problems and toilets that won’t flush, mowers that don’t mow, and two months of trying to envision what our new home will look like at the end of all this work.
Oh, and two months of me trying to let go of my home of fourteen years. The place where I built a successful business and we founded a non-profit, the place I planned and planted gardens – some that thrived and some that failed, the place I fell in love with my Husband, the place I never expected to stay more than five years in but crept into my soul.
The place where I feel safe.
Over my kitchen door, the one I go in and out of dozens of times a day, is written, “You are safe.” I always have been safe in this house, and it’s not that I haven’t gotten bad news of had problems here, but I have always been safe, even from myself.
I spent a lot of energy making myself feel safe here, for months I would walk nightly circles around the property with blessed water, incense, prayers and energy. I talked to the local faeries and elementals, connected with the spirits of the land and gave this ground all the love I had my heart – sometimes that didn’t feel like very much, but it was all I had to give.
This land gave me back beauty, security, food and my lovely dog Dart – who came to me on a dark and stormy summer night. My time on this land helped me find the person I thought I had lost under anger, disappointment, loss and loneliness. I relearned how to love here and how to offer acceptance, I learned lessons on nonjudgement and forgiveness and grounding and gratitude and I keep learning them over and over – each time I get closer to understanding what those words really mean.
I spent hours mowing and digging, giving my mind the space it needed to ruminate and meander. Space I rarely give myself with some project to work on – this land and this house was my project.
Terry Pratchett wrote (more or less) that people tell the land what it is and the land makes them who they are, I called this land home.