Saturday, January 22, 2011


It’s strange how things happen… and all by themselves, regardless of what we plan or intend or pray or ask for, what we think we choose or want or are ready for…

It’s been months of turmoil about my house and the idea/necessity/questions about moving—again. (If you’re tuned in regularly, you’ve already read it.) It’s been a long, circuitous, depressing, completely confusing, sometimes agonizing, oftentimes overwhelming process that started last July. There’s been some pretty loud moaning and pity-partying, more big rounds of uncertainty, unknown, discouragement, holding on, wondering. Then suddenly, early this past week, I realized, in about the amount of time it takes to draw a breath in and let it out, that I am ready to move on. It was not a decision, it came not through rigorous mental gymnastics or toe-tapping or sweating or laboring, it was just there, like a big ball of light, a clearing in the forest; something had shifted, letting go had happened, acceptance arrived, along with and a readiness to leave this chapter behind and get on with life.

Sometimes, looking back with the ever-clear twenty/twenty hindsight, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. Truly, I don’t just say that. I mean, I do know the things that ran through my mind, the rationale, the thoughts of adventure, the urgency of getting my “new life” started. (Whatever in the world that means…) But could I really have been that out of touch with what I need and want on a primary and fundamental level? Or, has it been this experience that has highlighted and brought more clearly to the surface those things? Is there some invisible, mysterious “purpose”? Lessons to be gleaned? Was it a mistake, a wrong turn, a failure even?

Then I remember when I was learning astrology and I was studying Uranus. One thing that stands out clearly in my mind all these years later was reading how Uranus is the energy of the risk taker. And that to be fully alive, we must incorporate the taking of risks into our lives; the hopping—or crawling—out on a limb, the bolting—or creeping— toward our edge; stir it up, challenge ourselves, get the old adrenalin flowing. And it doesn’t matter the outcome. In fact, the outcome—the idea or notion of success or failure—isn’t even part of the discussion. It’s the act itself that counts. If you put yourself out there, sometimes it will work out, sometimes it won’t. It’s pretty basic, really, the law of averages. The fundamental thing is to act.

So I put myself out there… and I’m bringing myself back in. And through some sort of fortune, I’m no longer berating myself with questions that have no answers. It happened. I moved away. I even bought a house. I found I don’t like it there. In fact, I grew very depressed there. I’m moving back. Where, I don’t know. More questions that as of yet anyway have no answers. And somehow, maybe it’s the anti-depressants, maybe I’m just in a better place, maybe it’s part of what’s been integrated as a result of this experience, whatever, none of it seems to be a problem. Not even the money I’m going to lose by selling the house. A small price to pay, when you really think about it, for a return of peace of mind.

I went up for a night last week with my sister and began the process of getting the house ready to put on the market. I started packing boxes, making phone calls, canceling utilities. I met with my realtor/now-good-friend. It’s one part bittersweet, about a hundred parts eagerness and excitement. And now, because apparently the time is right, I have lots of energy for it. We got what we needed to get done early and decided to spend the day in Yosemite “on the way home” (not really, but close enough… well, not really, but…). It was so beautiful, with snow like a soft white blanket covering the valley, the falls thick and lush, trees both green and bare, reflecting in the lazy Merced, the afternoon sun golden on the huge granite walls. We saw two coyotes in two days… (hmm… going to have to look up coyote medicine). I am going to miss being so close to what, in my opinion and limited travel, has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. But I'll be back closer to the ocean and the bay, to so many more and varied places, people, classes, opportunities, landscapes. I'll be living in my own space close to family and friends once again.

Can't wait.

As if she needs an introduction:  Beautiful Half Dome

The Merced from Sentinel Bridge

Self Portrait at Cascade Falls

1 comment:

  1. you have a beautiful blog, I love your header image. I admire and respect you for having the strength to pass through what you've been experiencing. Mine was a horrible experience after just 16 years of marriage so I can only suspect that your pain and trials are at least double that. From the little I've read I get a sense that your strength has persevered and infinite joy is just around the bend. You most certainly take gorgeous photographs. have a great weekend, and thanks for visiting my blog!


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