“We withdraw not to disappear, but to find another ground from which to see; a solid ground from which to step, and from which to speak again, in a different way, a clear, rested, embodied voice we begin to remember again as our own.”
- David Whyte
The first morning the dog and sit in the window seat and watch the day come alive. He focuses on the deer making their way up the neighbor’s hill while i watch a lone rower on the lake. I can’t help but dream and wonder what that must feel like and realize it no longer seems out of reach, but almost a possibility. Even among the overflow of moving boxes I feel lighter and more alive than I have felt in such a long time. Peace and joy flow without effort.
The dog and I take our first walk; he spots of few friends barking their greetings from windows and I meet a few neighbors. Last night’s rain has left its sparkling mark and everything shimmers. Later I unpack house boxes and move things from one place to another, as I become familiar with how we will use our new space. I move with intention, letting go of the hurriedness I felt while packing and enjoy the process. Word arrives that the home we left has closed and the last piece of the process is complete.
I am home, on solid ground with open roads ahead. Determined to not fall back into old habits that sideline my goals and put my yearnings on the back burner, I pause often, say less and wait for my own feelings to rise. Only after I have listened to myself do I speak.
have a beautiful weekend . . .