This month I'm doing a 30-Day Blog Challenge. Each day I will offer up a serving of what's in my heart in the moment. My wish is for you to receive a delicious blessing, and my hope is that you will feel inspired to leave a precious morsel of that in the comments. Thanks for stopping by!
Change is good. It refreshes the soul. But what happens when there's too much change? Can one be burned out on change?
My younger son, Miles, put it well to me recently when he said, "You must be tired." Yes, I told him, I am. It's been a lot of movement. Since July I've stayed in a dozen different places (house sitting, airbnb, vacation rentals). That means getting used to sleeping in a dozen different beds, finding my way around a dozen different kitchens, using a dozen different bathrooms, adjusting to a dozen different neighborhoods, etc.
Of course, I'm super grateful to have the shelter, but that much movement in such a short time makes my head spin. It's too much. For the moment, it can't be helped, (too many reasons to go into now), but I'm listening and focusing intently on the best way to shift things. Because to be perfectly honest, I'm not quite ready to throw in the towel and hunker down into my old way of living with my own place, my own furniture, my own neighborhood.
I don't want to give up being a nomad. There are parts of it I really love, but not at this extreme level of movement. Basically, I want something in between a traditional lifestyle and a nomadic lifestyle. I want to have my cake and eat it too.
What would that look like? Longer term stretches of staying in one place. Several months instead of only weeks or days. At least that's my truth right now. As I said, I'm listening and I'm open. I truly enjoy being able to follow where the inner guidance and intuition leads. Even if I'm initially reluctant, ultimately there are many gifts buried inside change. Meeting new people. Seeing things from a new perspective. Discovering new places to work.
However, I'm sensing on a soul level, I need to rest. I need stillness and quiet. it is the season of hibernation, after all. There is less heat and less light which means slowing the pace and finding inner sources of light and heat.
When I returned to Seattle, I felt that I had returned home in spite of the fact that I didn't grow up here nor do I have a long history here. I have no traditional roots here at all, and yet something here feels home. Perhaps it is the experiences I had during the five years I lived here with my sons. I was a single parent and our lives were intensely creative, passionate and full of people, gatherings and activities. I was swept away by my deep desire to make a home here. And I did. And that effort made an indelible imprint on my soul.
Does that mean I want to stay here from now on? At this moment, I would say no. I would also say Seattle is without question my favorite place to be in the U.S. The trees, the water, the particular color of the sunlight here and the culture are in my blood and no place really comes close (well, except maybe Portland...the city wound its way into my heart after house sitting there for over two months).
So I'm listening and savoring the time in my "chosen home" seeking ways to slow down a bit, rest and extend my stay (without having to commit to a long-term lease...not as easy as it sounds, especially when you need it to be furnished and full of supplies).
Perhaps home isn't a place after all. Perhaps home is where we feel loved and nourished. All of us are only here temporarily, anyway. We're just passing through and eventually someone else will be living in the place we call home.
Our body is a home for our soul....a place for it to dwell so that it may have a human experience. it is a sacred temple for the Divine. Where that body spends time is an extension of that home and a place for it to rest and nourish itself often in the company of others.
Mystics often view a house as a metaphor for consciousness. With that in mind, I've lived inside many different types of consciousness. For a writer and someone who has an insatiable curiosity about people's lives, getting to live in different houses is a bit of a dream come true. It's like getting to play house in other people's houses.
There is a time for movement and a time for rest. My soul is calling out for rest. There are so many things calling for my attention that I'd rather focus on than looking for a place to stay. The constant search for temporary shelter gets old. It interrupts the creative flow. It jams up the circuits with survival stuff.
Luckily, life knows the needs within my heart and will provide. This has been one of the biggest blessings of this nomadic journey: learning to trust the process. As long as I stay open and don't try and control the outcome, doors will open. Life will provide (more on that in a future post).
What feels like home to you? Where do you belong? Is it a place or is it with your loved ones?