Took a week off for Thanksgiving and now the blog is back with some exciting news...
I have a new home!!!!
After 5 months of wandering, I have finally landed in a room in a house with some sweet older hippie dancing folk in South Austin. I cannot quite express to you all out there in internet land quite what this means for me, (honestly, it is still an unfolding process) but I will do my best to try:
My journey over the last half year of leaving Massachusetts to follow my creative impulse has been a really beautiful, and at times very difficult process. I have been finding that to welcome all of these new experiences, people, places and things into my life, I also have needed to say goodbye to some of my old ways and ideas about myself, friends and also my environment. For example: Making the decision to start paying rent in Austin means that I am committing to Texas, and thus saying goodbye to the Northeast. Starting Bathtub Moon means that I need to say goodbye to my beloved Woman Songwriter Collective. And on and on... Since arriving in Austin in late October and having been essentially in limbo land at my friend Alex's, it had been difficult for these feelings of loss and future to fully surface and express themselves. After moving into my new room, however the reality of my shift is feeling very real and potentially even permanent. (After all, can we ever REALLY go back to where we were before a big experience? And further more, would we even want to? Things will never be the same.)
After setting up my room, with all the finishing touches on Friday, I lay in my bed and took a big sigh and felt the expanse of space surround me. It was like I had been holding my breath for a very, very long time and the parts of me that were carrying the stale air were becoming fully oxygenated. This small room holds all of my things perfectly - the things that I packed in my car five months ago. The things that after a tedious elimination process I decided I truly needed. This room is warm and holds me like a cocoon. It has walls and a door that I can close so that nobody can see me. Lying in my bed on the floor, I felt my heart and body open and I cried. I actually cried a lot. This is usually hard for me to do, and I am very pleased that it is becoming less difficult. I was also able to write some music, which is always a plus.
This is interesting. I had a long conversation with some friends from back home yesterday, and we talked a lot about where I had come from and where I am now: in this new culture, in the people's republic of Texas, where the people are friendly right away and everyone is late like me. Do the strategies that helped me survive life in New England still work here? Or are they holding me back?
I am deciding to resume my meditation practice and following my friend's suggestion to sit with whatever emotions arise and just feeling them. Feel. That's something, I think, that Texans are good at. It is coming to my attention that there may be parts of myself, like the things I decided to take out of my car and put into storage before I left, that I may not need anymore. I am opening to greet them, and maybe, just maybe, becoming able to let them go.