moving.. moving.. moving...
My life is strewn with boxes and papers and the belongings of my life. Shoes and ribbons and bits of paper that inspire. Clothes and dresses and hats for the coming autumn.
I am moving. I have moved and I will move again.
I have spent the better part of the last month and a half packing.
First thing I packed was a cabin, the very one I was born in twenty years ago on a cold march night, on the first day of spring.
It's lived where it was made, rather like me, on the same piece of property with the same view of the same mountains. Comforting to have home. Of course I uprooted it. With my dad and trucks and jacks and a trailer, a long process to be sure, but now it's moved. Six miles down the road, where I will never have to move it again, on my fathers off-the-grid property it now sits, facing the same mountians, but with a new view.
I have my own house, no kitchen or water or electricity yet, but it's all mine, and it always will be and the certainty of this is like solid bliss.
Yesterday, we finished lowering it onto the foundation. and today, hopefully, we will finish the last few few things as I continue to move, continue to pack, continue to be swept away by this living life.
On Sunday, I leave my little town. My sweet home, friends, family, beloved mountains and my dog and I move to Golden, Colorado.
I am chasing the things that bring me life. I am moving to become a blues dance instructor, or at least learn, and work my butt off and see when this door leads.
So I am off, got more brown boxes to pack.
One last thought:
I found out today that my blog has had over 500 views since I started and this makes me smile, but feel so utterly surprised. I have been writing to the void. To the nothingness, expecting no one to know, to answer or to read.
Who is it that is reading me?
Who's eyes glance along my words and glean meaning from my struggles, my passions and my utmost desires and love?
I do not know your faces, or the way anything effects your heart. But thank you.
I am moving. I have moved and I will move again.
I have spent the better part of the last month and a half packing.
First thing I packed was a cabin, the very one I was born in twenty years ago on a cold march night, on the first day of spring.
It's lived where it was made, rather like me, on the same piece of property with the same view of the same mountains. Comforting to have home. Of course I uprooted it. With my dad and trucks and jacks and a trailer, a long process to be sure, but now it's moved. Six miles down the road, where I will never have to move it again, on my fathers off-the-grid property it now sits, facing the same mountians, but with a new view.
I have my own house, no kitchen or water or electricity yet, but it's all mine, and it always will be and the certainty of this is like solid bliss.
Yesterday, we finished lowering it onto the foundation. and today, hopefully, we will finish the last few few things as I continue to move, continue to pack, continue to be swept away by this living life.
On Sunday, I leave my little town. My sweet home, friends, family, beloved mountains and my dog and I move to Golden, Colorado.
I am chasing the things that bring me life. I am moving to become a blues dance instructor, or at least learn, and work my butt off and see when this door leads.
So I am off, got more brown boxes to pack.
One last thought:
I found out today that my blog has had over 500 views since I started and this makes me smile, but feel so utterly surprised. I have been writing to the void. To the nothingness, expecting no one to know, to answer or to read.
Who is it that is reading me?
Who's eyes glance along my words and glean meaning from my struggles, my passions and my utmost desires and love?
I do not know your faces, or the way anything effects your heart. But thank you.
