I have a friend who has moved fifty-nine times in her life, and most of these moves happened before the age of consent—before the age when she had any part to play in making the decision to go. As I face the latest move in my own life, I have compassion for that child. Moving is never easy.
When you move, there is always so much that you cannot take with you—friends, for instance; the way you get your groceries; most of your potted plants; none of the plants in your yard. And then there are the things. I’m referring to all the things, large and small, that I have amassed over the seventeen years I’ve lived on Whidbey Island, things that make my life more comfortable or beautiful or meaningful—and that help to make this one-bedroom apartment my home:
- My paternal grandmother’s Chinese ginger pot
- A beautifully framed painting of a tree that I bought at an estate sale
- A much longed-for Tiffany lamp
- An antique printer’s drawer that looks like a little temple and holds, in its various compartments, tiny deities, my mother’s thimble collection, and other bits of my heritage
- A hand-painted blue vase with its yellow silk forsythia, fairy lights, and a metal sign that reads BREATHE
- A huge, multi-colored fitness ball
- Books—pounds and pounds of books!
I can’t remember just when this place began to feel like home. The place I’m moving to—Oakland, California—does not feel like home. I have friends there, and I now have a lovely place to live… But that almost imperceptible sense of belonging here, that sense of deep relaxation that only “home” can bestow, this has not happened yet. I think it takes time.
I have been happier and more at home in this little one-bedroom apartment on Whidbey than I have ever been anyplace else in my life.
The ashram, where I lived for the shank of my adult years, was never supposed to be home. I guess the whole point of living in any spiritual community is to let go of outer comforts and to find true solace within oneself. And that did happen for me—it happened to the extent that I can now face this required move with good humor and a measure of equanimity.
As pleasant and kind and sweet as everyone was on my trip this week to Oakland, as fruitful as my search for housing there was, as lovely and quiet as the neighborhood turned out to be… I was never completely relaxed while I was there.
On my return trip on the airport shuttle, once we reached the Mukilteo speedway, I felt I was approaching home. (This is why, I understand, the trip back always seems to take less time: because you see familiar landmarks and you know you’re almost home.)
There are, of course, levels of coming home. One level was seeing Linda and Luther waiting for me at Ken’s Korner. Twenty minutes later, I was stepping into the apartment that fits me like a glove and is as familiar as a second skin. And then, that night, I was climbing into my warm, cozy bed; closing my eyes; and knowing I could safely drop into oblivion.
As I’ve said, I think it takes time to make a place home. It didn’t happen on Whidbey right away. I feel certain that I can create the feeling of home once again. I know it’s not the presence of all the things—and that’s good, because where I’m going, there definitely won’t be room for all the things.
This morning at my puja, while I was paying homage to the murti of Bhagavan Nityananda, my grandfather guru, I heard him say, “I’m sending you to Oakland for a reason.” Of course, he didn’t say what that reason is. That’s for me to ferret out… and to learn from.
In my astrological chart, I have cancer rising. Cancer is the crab, a creature who carries her home on her back. Right now, I’m going for that.
My friend who has moved fifty-nine times is quite certain that she was scarred by the experience. I am, however, intent that this move is going to be something wonderful.
The antique printer drawer
‘Sending you to Oakland.’ I felt I should look up the word ‘send’, the way the Guru likes us to do. One meaning that stood out is ‘transfer’. So, you’re being transferred. Like in a job. Looks like your job on Whidby is done. Only you and the Guru know what that job was. In Oakland, you’ll look back on it in wonder, like a dream. Meanwhile, there’s so much poignancy in the period of transition. I feel that for you, dear Margaret, and wish for you the most easeful and successful of moves.
Thank you, Vicki. That’s a very sweet blessing!
Sending you many many blessings for feeling at home soon when you arrive in Oakland. May it be easeful and even fun!!
I especially love the “fun” part!
Maha
As usual, your words, thoughts, feelings are corralled into a beautiful arena allowing me to savor each moment of transition. As you know I love moving, shedding my skin like a snake does. Getting rid of the old, scaling down to make room for new things, ideas, freedom, a new inner and outer adventure. Home is where your heart is. With Nityananda’s guidance and grace you’re sure to begin afresh and to carve out a new beginning. Many blessings on your new adventure. I will miss our luncheons with Usha. I just celebrated my 82 birthday in my new abode.
Much love coming your way.
Hira हीरा
Barbara Reid
Very inspiring!
Thank you for sharing this step along your journey to find a new home. I sense the poignancy of this decision to move and your surrender to the next adventure. I’m happy to know that you found a suitable place to live, to make it your next– and perhaps final — home sweet home.
Margaret, I have admired you so much for the past three weeks or so once you realized that you were going to have to move. Your upbeat attitude amazed me. I don’t think I would be able to pull it off the way you have. There’s so much about you that I have admired over the years that I have known you, and I have cherished our friendship as it has blossomed more and more over the years. Saturday will never be the same without our dinner and movie. And of course, the discussions afterwards are something I will miss, too. With your attitude and friends awaiting, I know you will find a soft landing in Oakland, and I want you to come visit me every summer and stay a while.
Now that’s an invitation I’m going to accept! Thank you!