Dismantling ones home and packing up possessions is an enlightening experience. I find myself examining objects and books more closely than in a long time, sensing their importance, feeling their weight and meaning in my life. Do they add something or represent the past? Do I value them enough to want to pack them and store them? Will I be happy to see them again in a few months time? For many of them it’s been a heartfelt yes! For some it is a very grateful no.But it’s not only the physical that we reassess at times like these; it’s the internal clutter as well. I’m more acutely aware of how differently I feel since I first moved in here. I contemplate how my life will be when next I unpack. I acknowledge a deep understanding that sudden though this move is it is happening at the perfect time and all is moving forward toward an exciting newly shaped life. It is time to say goodbye to hiding and eternal isolation within my fortress of books, of steeping in the juices of my private world. It is time to welcome in the shift, the motion of the Universe inviting me into fresh life again.
My tree-house gave me a semblance of peace and time to heal. I travelled the world and came back to its welcoming arms. I sunk in the cushioning sound of birdsong and forever winds. I have let go of so much over the last three years, burned letters in quest-fires, made footprints in red canyons and upon frozen lakes. My internal world feels renewed and inspired. I can breathe deeply and laugh loudly without fear or regret.So now I shed the burdensome diaries of many years despair and the dead-weight of unread books. I feel lighter and freer as I step into the beginnings of my handmade life and look forward to eventually moving into the house of belonging (from David Whyte's wonderful poem).