Mining Nuggets

Blogging back ...

... or thinking forward ...

    

I realize that blogging was a crucial component of self understanding and alteration these past five and a half years. A way for me to publicly examine my emotional confusion and pain from way back when. Indeed, blogging helped me author two books during that time as well - giving me practical writing experience day in and day out, as well as renewed confidence in the validity of my feelings and experiences.

The recent house move, and past eight months of therapy, bring with them a new era. Awareness and, thus, expression of Self - the likes of which I have not experienced before. Somehow, this has taken away the feeling of urgency, or my need for blogging that I used to have. I am able to hold still with uncomfortable emotions, and feel them within me. Bit by bit, self expression reveals itself in more meaningful conversations with people I care about, or colleagues at work. I become more authentic without fear of repercussion or retaliation.

These past couple of weeks, as I wander alone through our new home, there is a shift in my sense of self-worth. Finally, after decades of hard work, long hours of study, and terrifying financial and emotional struggle and pain, there arises in me an exhilarating feeling that I truly deserve the wide open spaces of this most exquisite house. 

As my wonderful father-in-law described it recently - it befits our [emotional] station. 

Each blog post now becomes for me a sentence or phrase that sums up a moment in time.

It seems that I prefer to share deeper feelings face-to-face ...

... perhaps it is because ...

... I fear ...

... intimacy ... 

... less 

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Memoir-abilia

Moving reflections

Quote of the day:

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions. Oliver Wendell Holmes - from CCIE

Going back to the old apartment that I loved so well, to clean, lock up, and bid farewell, I see an older, different time. Only a few days have passed since living there, but I realize that I have outgrown that place and time in my life. Probably by a year or more. Well overdue to move on. Gentle sounds of the birds of the Wissahickon and the large oak tree that had become my friend during some lonely days. Even those seem part of a different time. Only a few days have passed since living there, and I realize, I cannot go back.

The move has felt like a celebration for me. Stressful moments and many heavy boxes to lift up flights of stairs. Some nights I flop into bed with exhaustion. Muscles ache in places I did not know I had muscles! And yet, it feels like a celebration.A new phase in life. I especially love our new porch, which is large enough to accommodate all my plants. I sense the plants singing to me in the mornings. Their leaves seem to glow and shine as they lift up toward the light all around them.

There are new sounds for Ada and I to get used to. Cars driving up and down the busy street outside the window. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend the cars are like waves on a shore, and then the sound becomes soothing - even friendly.

And then there is the dilemma of where to settle my study space. Up on the third floor, which has also become a yoga room for me, or down on the second floor in our spacious library area. I follow Ada's lead. She bounds up and down the stairs calling out to me as she goes. Some days I sit by the computer way up high in the rafters! Others, down in the library, whose books are yet to be distributed on the shelves not yet put in place. Both rooms have their charm. How fortunate I am to have the choice!

I sense new and happy days ahead ... for now, I want to invite all the people I love to come over for a visit - we could dance and sing, and break bread together ... that is what I would like more than anything ... to share these moments ... no time to lose ... who cares about anything else ...

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: On the road again

Quote of the day: 

now u can start writing all about your new adventures, writing them down, while on your new porch, in a rocker...with a cup of tea by your side, as the sun sets...after a hard day of moving..." 

From my friend Patti on Facebook last night.

Write for ten minutes ...

 ... Go ... 

The new house.

Closing day on our new house is drawing near, and during meditation thoughts come up to greet me, even as I concentrate on the morning cacophony of the birds of the Wissahickon, or the mantras given me over the years by Swami Ji, or the transcendental folks. I wanted so badly to learn how to meditate in those days. I was in my early twenties, and my more affluent friend, Melinda, loaned me the $120 I needed at the time for the course. 

I think of moments after the closing - the settlement with lawyers and technicalities. The handing over of down-payment checks, and the signing of signatures, the full name here, just initials there. Will we go for a celebratory brunch with our sweetheart of an estate agent - Craig? He has been with us for the past eighteen months in and out of house after house as none seemed to suit our station (as Dick called it, that day back in April during the house inspection), or phase of life. And then, one day, we found it, and Craig became as excited as us, understanding that we had found it - there and then, in the moment. 

Or will I go straight to the new house and bring with me just two or three items - maybe a few more - just to plant them there? Just to show that we will be moving in soon, very soon. Within the next few days. Two or three items flow into my brain as I meditate in the dawn light. Hamsa for the front door, and the harp-hamsa Elise gave us during our March visit, perhaps for the back door, because that is the most popular entry point most probably, driving into the back, down the stone steps and into the breakfast room. That way we will hear the gentle, harmonious clanging of the harp as the door opens and closes with future entries and exits. And what about the hand-painted pottery sign that reads, Peace to all who enter here? Where will I hang that during those first moments after the closing? 

I wonder, and then mantras return to my brain flow, tweets and calls of the birds in the morning as I feel the light seeping through. I sigh deeply and open my eyes slowly. When I turn my head I notice little Ada lying close by, like a small, furry Sphinx waiting silently, patiently. She greets me with a tiny gasping "peep, peep." 

The day has begun.

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Post quel to turning 60