Loving, Letting Go, Leaving and finding Home - Part 1

“He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy. 

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.”

         ~ William Blake

I have been writing, editing, re-writing, discarding and returning to this post for a couple of months now. It is part of my process to begin writing in a stream of consciousness method, and then to sort, organize, evaluate, read, re-read, absorb, hear my words from another perspective, re-arrange, add new ideas, become overwhelmed, lose interest, start new projects, and return, eventually, to finish. Over the months, I have realized that at this time this subject is much too large for my understanding to be recorded as my Truth. Thus, it is what it is in this moment.

Since age seventeen I have traveled through life carrying with me the above quote, visible daily to absorb as a mantra throughout the day. It is a truth I aspire to live by. Yet, it is a challenge. I love intensely and passionately and I have formed deep connections with many places and many people and in many forms throughout my life. It is not easy to let go of what we love so deeply. And yet, over the years, I have also found that I can walk on and leave much behind. Truly? What does that mean? I am learning to understand. Slowly, I understand the loving, letting go and leaving as a practice and an expression of non-attachment. As a result, my trust and faith in Love and the Creative deepens and I continue to return to a place I call Home.

I have been in a major transition in the realms of children, relationship, career, finance, health and home for over two years. Change is often uncomfortable and disorienting, yet, I am still here on the planet and relatively calm and at peace, knowing that acceptance, vision and determination are key. I am placing one foot in front of the other and moving forward on my journey, but perhaps too often, I look behind, questioning my route. Why? Is Fear nipping at my heels?

The abbreviated history: My youngest children, twins, age 20, graduated from high school in 2009 and left the nest soon after, home life slowed down and became very quiet, very, very quiet. The day after their graduation, I ended an intimate relationship which I had believed would develop into a life long partnership. Although the separation was a healthy decision for me, my heart was injured and is still recovering. Months prior to my sons’ graduation, I hung my first solo art show, which would also be my last for an indefinite amount of time as I made a commitment to enroll in a program to study Tuina, a branch of Chinese medicine, with the martial arts and medicine association that I have been involved with for more than six years. In order to focus on my studies, I temporarily left my art making, other interests and employment opportunities to immerse myself in studying energetic body work. At the time, I did not realize the magnitude of my decision, I just knew I had to do it. The commitment led me deeper into debt, closer to a dream and farther away from the humble abode, land and community I once called home.

The converging pivotal climax of my transition began after my graduation in the Spring of 2010, and the completion of a 5 month internship in July. During the yang intensity of the summer, in the Chinese year of the Tiger, I decided to drive to Tucson, Arizona for our association’s national medicine and martial arts conference and from there, travel for nearly two months exploring my inner landscape of desire and dreams in the inspiring beauty of southern Utah, the Olympic Peninsula, and the coast and valley of Northern California. I returned to Virginia from California in three and a half days. Sitting and driving for that long set me up for a hip blowout and I seemingly injured myself while doing what brings me the most joy - dancing. It has been over a year now and I have danced only once to speak of and my healing has taken many ups and downs and painful twists and turns and continues to be one of the biggest challenges of my life.

My journey to the Pacific Northwest was more than a vacation, it was my way of testing the waters before taking the plunge. Yet, when I returned home, I was still on the edge of the cliff, wondering if I could leap from the precipice and leave home and all that I loved in Floyd to take the risk to pursue further Tuina education and training with my gong fu family in Portland, Oregon and to begin a regular practice of dance with the Gabrielle Roth’s 5Rhythms Dance tribe in Olympia, Washington just 2 hours away. 

The following March, a crisis directed me to my fate and I decided, without a shadow of doubt to move as soon as I completed my year of teaching at Blue Mountain School. Soon after the decision, my house was rented to a wonderful young woman and her two children, my teaching position was filled by a passionate young artist who had just begun to pursue her interest in teaching art to children and my family was understanding and supportive of my decision.

On June 20th two days after a beautiful wedding celebration, attended by many of my most beloved friends and family, I left my one stoplight hometown in the mountains of Floyd County, Southwest Virginia, population 15,000, and set out on the open road to the city of Portland, Oregon, population 584,000, 2,733 miles away from what has been familiar, comfortable and supportive for the last 15 years.

Floyd had been home. When I moved to Floyd in 1996, I never dreamed of leaving. I intended to create a home and I did. I moved to Floyd because I wanted to raise my children in an environment where they could run wild through hundreds of acres of open pasture and pine and hardwood Forest with the deer, turkey, fox, bear and bobcat. Swim freely in the River with fish, otter, osprey and the Great Blue Heron. I wanted them to have an opportunity to form a deep connection with Nature, to sleep under a blanket of stars while listening to owls hoot and bull frogs bellow. I wanted them to know their neighbors as family and to gather together at community potlucks to sing and dance and play music around a blazing fire. They received this and much more and I am grateful. 

I have lived in paradise, why would I want to leave? What could possibly be stronger than my love for this land and its communal inhabitants that I call home? 

When I announced to friends that I was moving, the responses I received varied. Many people commented on how exciting my plans were, “you must be excited!” Actually, I was not excited. My decision came quickly even though I had been sitting in consideration of a move for years. 

I was grieving. 

I was letting go of my physical connection with loved ones in Floyd. I was leaving my home of 15 years. I was leaving the community of support in Floyd. However, I was moving towards something, towards unrealized dreams that could only be touched if there was a proximity to the source and a commitment to the manifestation of a long held vision of life purpose. My need for expansion was clearly evident. When the decision was made, I knew with clarity that it was time to walk on, to let go and leave what I have loved so deeply.

During the previous summer when I was exploring the Pacific Northwest, I was very comfortable traveling by myself, arriving in a new place, finding my way in, through and out. I visited with old college friends, friends that I had met only once before, and I made new friends along the way. I enjoyed the company of mySelf as I traversed through Texas and Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, California, and through nowhere Nevada onward to the east coast. Returning.

Home.

Where is Home? The location was now ambiguous. I was leaving the familiar, entering the unknown. I really did not have set ideas about how I would be living. There would be many options and locations presented. I did know that I enjoyed my time in solitude and I hoped for a calm and peaceful environment in which to live. While traveling on the road, I was content in my tent alone, all one, sleeping under the stars, embraced by darkness, awoken by bird songs. Often, silence was a familiar and welcomed companion. I was deeply satisfied walking alone through scenic wilderness, along the shorelines with sea stacks jutting out of the cold Pacific waters and volcanic activity deep underground. I journaled. I painted. I photographed. I walked. I sat. I soaked it all in. I and I.

Upon arrival in Portland the following summer after testing the waters the summer before, I lived for two months in the home of a kind and gracious friend who had been the sage girl in my wedding in 1987. Although I felt a tad invasive, I was very grateful to be given this safe and supportive home to create the rough draft for the new life I was creating. I spent long days wondering and wandering through the city, searching for jobs, “interviewing” potential room mates, debating urban close-in, or out with the trees and hills.The exploration was a constant movement towards Home, and I didn’t know it until I arrived. When I arrived, it was clear.

I had diverse living environments to choose from. I kept my options open, creating a viable reason why a particular situation would be beneficial. I would investigate and invariably, it didn’t feel right. I usually make decisions based on my feelings and logic appears occasionally but does not receive much weight in my considerations, though I started believing that I needed to make a decision and just live with it. I had given myself two months which was also the amount of time my hosts had offered me a place to stay while I found my own way. During my full-time process, I acknowledged that I really needed to be surrounded by trees. I needed to feel safe. I needed quiet. I needed to live with people who shared my love for family and other core values. I wanted to be close to my work. I wanted a place to do my art and an extra room for guests and to practice massage. I wanted a place that accepted dogs so my son could visit with my grand pups. I needed something affordable. Wow, that was a lot to be asking for, yet, it was what I needed and wanted. I didn’t want to “settle for less”. I held the vision and then one night, I received a reply from one of my craigslist inquiries, “You sound awesome!”

Two days later, I met my future house mate, and the creator of a home that would become a new home for me. I found the house to be spacious and surrounded by trees on one acre within the city and very quiet. It came completely furnished and offered plenty of storage for my “extra stuff’ and a spare room for guests and a place to practice massage. The 1920‘s dairy house had been completely renovated in craftsman style with an artistic vision and attention to details. I found it to be aesthetically pleasing and filled with art. The energy moved freely within the house and it promoted a calmness which would support my healing and growth. I knew that this was the house and this was someone I could live with joyfully. We talked for several hours and shared on many of the core values that I was looking for in a house mate, particularly the love and appreciation of family. Immediately, without hesitation, I made the choice, and said, “ I want to live here. I will thrive in this place.” Once I made the decision and was accepted, everything began to fall into place. A part-time nanny job appeared at about the same time along with potential full time work in a child care center. As the childcare center job dropped into my past, a second nanny job, complimentary to the first appeared one mile from home. I accepted my work as a nanny and after my full two month stay in my temporary dwelling, I began to create the continuation of my life.

Home, a place deep inside that is in alignment and resonates with the Heart. A place of support, comfort, familiarity and fulfilled needs. Home is my Center from which I find expansion possible.