I have been given a season of abundance, which has made it necessary to relocate. However the abundance has not transformed into productive writing. Moving in and of itself does not seem to be a very holy event, in fact last day pressure packing brings out some of my least holy language. The advice column tells me to be decisive. Handle every item only once-decide do you take it, donate it or junk it? How can it be that I have collected so much stuff in the time of living here next to the Rocky Mountains? An oversized van and my mother's small car, both with tire rims bulging transported all the carefully selected items across three provinces to begin a new life. A bed, a chair, a lamp, pictures papers, some books and too much clothing buoyed my anticipated new beginning. Not one face was familiar to me on my arrival, and now half a decade later both the stuff and my relationships have mushroomed exponentially into the beautiful life developed in this region. The mountain's grandeur visible in my every day life has reshaped my soul to look upwards, to breathe deep of clear fresh air, and to take the time to process life.
What the experts don't tell me, is how to pack up the benefits reaped while living here? How does one box up the richness of relationships to take to the next location? And in the relocation process I wonder what does it mean to be at home? My soul has found a resting place, a nesting place here.
When people asked what brought me to Cochrane ... I said it was a series of events.
And now a rapid series of events fuelled by cupid's arrow draws me back to my prairie home province. Can I allow myself to live in this new land of dreams? While there has been a longing in my soul to move on, many times I have felt more comfortable living in the identity of a grief survivor, but a survivor who wanted to live, not just exist. It seemed unthinkable to imagine that I could experience deep joy again. And I am in the wondering phase ... I have been given the gift of a fantastic partnership of a lifetime, for a lifetime.
Eric Clapton sings—Nobody knows you when you're down and out—not true, I had many people walk alongside the grief journey ... and now many more are clapping their hands with this turn of events ... They tell me, I deserve this ... and I am wonder, do I deserve to get to be so happy? That begs the question, did I deserve the tragedy? While it is true that we often reap what we sow, no one sows seeds of earthquake, floods, accidents, and disaster. A wall hanging I've packed to move says:
In the end, what matters most is how well did you love, how well did you live, how well did you learn to let go?
As I pack, I am letting go of stuff. I will pack up fond memories, rich friendships and lessons learned. I can move to this next phase of life, a much richer person having spent five years near the Rockies, and the mountains will continue to unfold, even from the Prairies.
Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out Of my Head? She blogs at:
http://whoistalking.wordpress.com This is from an article she posted this past week.