Archives for the month of: January, 2016

In the distracting stillness of my solitude,
I remember all that I really want and
it is enough.


Another rainy morning, after another good night of sleep. Another good cup of coffee, watching another dawn unfold contentedly. Another day of moving? Not so much, no; although some amount of moving in remains to be done, the moving out is completed, except for cleaning and vacuuming.

This move has been about self-sufficiency, simplicity, and minimizing emotional and cognitive disruption. I am finding it has been wildly unimaginably successful, rather as if every calorie additional personal effort expended has been directly invested in my continued contentment and comfort. I guess it has. It was a good choice to make, for me. I have lost count of the verbs involved. πŸ™‚

I have found opportunities to balance the needed effort and commitment to the task at hand with day to day good self care, and remained fairly mindful of basics like adequate rest and healthy well timed calories. I even worked things out to minimize time spent in the limbo between places, and mostly avoided angsty weird moments of peculiar loneliness or feelings of displacement. I am feeling accomplished and comfortable, even knowing the first [bigger] rent check is due tomorrow.



Incremental change over time…and I am here, versus somewhere very different in life.  Today is a good day to appreciate progress, and change.

As if I had also planned the weather, I managed to get my moving done without ever being out in the rain. The storms and showers swept past, not quite continuously but definitely frequently these past four days, and somehow, and without any particular effort, every load of household goods was loaded up, then unloaded yet again in actual sunshine. From indoors, again and again I have watched the rain come down while I packed or unpacked another load, making a mindful focused effort to move in just as much as I am moving out.  Again today, showers passed by while I had breakfast with a friend. (There was no way to move the aquarium without help, breakfast turned the experience into straight up fun hang out time.)

After the aquarium was moved, the only thing left was the patio garden, and although it felt daunting to tackle one more thing, the move wasn’t going to finish itself…and it turned out to be only a half hour more work to get the roses and herbs down the hill, and crowded near the front door. My idea to use a garden cart to haul everything around back directly to the new patio didn’t account for the many-days-rain-soaked lawn across which the cart was intent on cutting furrows rather than rolling over it; each pot will be cleaned carefully, soil allowed to drain and dry out a bit, then be carried through the apartment. Over my brand new carpet. Still, with care it won’t be a mess. I can take my time with it, now. I live here.

The fish survived the move. Nothing got broken. I feel as safe and at home here as I did in the one I moved from. The dishwasher is quieter.

I see a crane fly into the marsh on the other side of the meadow outside my window. I am home.


Definitely enough.

I am encouraged by the progress made thus far on moving. My planning has proven to be well-thought out and true to my abilities, limits, and resources. The anxiety eased considerably once the moving crew handling my heavy stuff had come and gone, without using any more than the two hour minimum I had committed to. Far less expensive than last time, and nothing broken or damaged! They even reassembled my bed, saving me considerable effort that would have hit me at the end of a long day.

I enjoyed my coffees here at home, yesterday, and made dinner in my kitchen here, eating it while watching South Park from my hard drive. I slept in my own bed, easily and deeply; a very different experience than those first restless uncomfortable nights at my wee safe haven. It’s hard to be certain what is making this easier… It is, though. So far no tears or tantrums, just muscles working, and contentment. πŸ™‚


A new view from my patio window welcomes me home.

There’s more to be done…

Moving is a process that is pretty much entirely all about changes. Sometimes moving is is also associated with a lot of ‘forced choices’; things decided upon in the moment that are either imposed by someone else’s decision-making, or by details in the circumstances that seem to limit the available options. (I say ‘seem to’ because sometimes I find myself making a choice based on it being ‘the only thing I can do’, which while it does immediately ensure that my perspective is that there is ‘no choice’, in reality ‘no choice’ is a rare condition.)

Last night I slept deeply and well in the old apartment, even crashing quite early, utterly exhausted. I woke earlier than my usual waking time, and although I was contentedly committed to returning to sleep for as long as I needed to rest, the attempt was wasted. I was awake. My thought, when I crashed out last night, was that I would wake later – probably after 7:00 am (the hour at which the community ‘quiet hours’ end). The intention was to immediately finish loading up the van and drive it down the hill, unload it, then have my morning coffee. I woke at 4:00 am, much too early to futz around with moving things, and a noisy truck. People were definitely still sleeping. (Yes, that matters to me; Consideration is Β one of my Big 5 relationship values – are not my neighbors also sharing a relationship with me? That of neighbor?) I decided to dress, and take the frozen food down to the new apartment, and have my coffee while I watch the dawn slowly unfold over the park, from the new view.

The darkness before dawn is dotted with bright  lights.

The darkness before dawn is dotted with bright lights.

What a lovely morning, and what an excellent bit of decision-making! I returned to the old apartment some time later – after coffee number two, and 7:00 am. The rainy morning has prolonged the early morning gray misty skies, and dim lighting that might put my footing at risk. I choose a healthy breakfast, a few minutes at the keyboard, and no rush; I am up so much earlier than I planned that I am still entirely ‘on plan’ for the moving bits without rushing at all.

The choices I am making with regard to handling the move in this peculiarly slow deliberate way is also resulting in feeling more immediately moved in at the place. This morning felt right;Β I had my morning coffee ‘at home’ – and that was there, at the new place, sitting on the love seat in the living room, watching the sky lighten beyond the treeline on the other side of the park. Meditation. Yoga. A shower. I make no promises to myself about how this is going; it is enough to experience it.

A metaphor for change: the mantle shelf covered with treasured things that will not remain in this location. Sometimes the choices and changes are momentary.

A metaphor for impermanence: the mantle shelf covered with treasured things, safer on the shelf than on the floor, they will not be here long.

Isn’t that still what this is all about? Choices…changes… enough? πŸ™‚