Saturday, May 5, 2012

Letting go, Moving on . . .

This is our last weekend in Arkansas, and as we pack up our life into dozens of brown corrugated cardboard boxes, what we need, what we don't need and what we are attached to becomes abundantly clear.  And then there is that other layer:  what will fit?  What will fit into the truck, what will fit into our life, what will there be room for as we load our existence into a dimension of change and transformation?

Years ago, a lifetime ago, when I was moving away from Texas for the first time, a dear friend told me that the move would take on a life of it's own.  It would become it's own entity with it's own agenda.  Those words rang true then and they are ever so true now.  The Move is choosing so much for us and we face decisions with every box we assemble, pack and stack.  It is leaving me with the question that I ask with trepidation,

"What will our life be like, when we unpack it?"

We just sold a table that I built, with my own heart and hands, for the dreamhome we left a few years ago.  I had valued it as any artist would:  time, effort, materials, market and depreciation.  In the end, this table that had held the roots of our beginning existence together, this table that tied us to the magick of the hearth from which we arose as a couple and a family, was valued for much, much less than my head and heart wanted.  And as I let it go, I felt those cords loosening, pulling, ripping away.

In a sense, we are starting over, and our ties to the past, while ever so indulgent, are slipping.  Those ties have given me such a sense of purpose and I worry, wringing my hands with nervousness, over what purpose will take it's place.

But as we let go of more than we thought we would, we uncover what is truly the foundation of our existence:  not things, or the past, or what connects us from one room to the next, but our ability to choose to be together and keep moving into whatever comes next.