I'm in Uzes. Finally. To stay. I'm still processing that. My being is still grounding into my body in this place, still catching up. Some of me had gone ahead, some of me has stayed behind and is lingering with the old place. It is a process for all of me to make it here and coalesce into who I am in this new place and create what my life will be here.
I am still me, of course. But, that we are different in different places is real. The place and the people affect us, and we change and grow because of them. This place will require new things of me. I will have to find parts of myself that were lost or that I didn't know existed. I have to get to know myself in a new way...allow myself to rise in a new way.
One of the things my mind wants to do is to compare how things are here with how things were in the old place. No. That is of no value. It doesn't matter how things were, it only matters how things are...here...now. Things won't be the same here. Everything will be different. Some things better, some things worse, but only if I get caught in the comparison of old and new. The comparison takes me out of being with what is. The comparison is a method of staying with the old. And, now, it's not about staying with the old, it's about opening to the new.
I am starting slowly, oozing into the energy of today. My mind runs through lists of what there is to do here and wants to move into the day. But, my body is tired from the travel of getting here and wants to sit and take it all in. So, I sit. I let my mind run in circles because there's no corralling it, but my body is quiet. It's an overcast, gray sky that greets me and covers my world. Birds fly across the frame of my window. A cat creeps across the roof across the street. I feel my butt on the seat cushion of my chair and my feet as they rest on the floor as my fingertips move across the familiar keys of my computer. It's quiet and I'm comfortable and I have all that I need in this moment.
My cat, Sophie, continues to wander the new space, discovering everything there is to know about the feels and smells and shapes of things. She's been more affectionate with me during this journey and we've grown closer. Our love and interdependence with each other has grown deeper. I am her only anchor in a changing world. Having her with me is a great gift. She is my heart, my companion, my friend, my child, my supporter. She uplifts me and grounds me into the present at the same time. I am grateful for her presence in ways that defy words and fill me to overflowing.
My heart is full in this moment and I'm grateful to everyone and everything that has conspired to get me and Sophie here. It took an enormous amount of Life force to magnetize everything into the reality of this moment. And, it is that enormity of Life force that renews me and keeps me moving. We don't accomplish things all at once, we accomplish them step by step, bit by bit...digestible bits...as my friend calls them. You don't eat the whole piece, you eat it in bits, digestible bit by digestible bit.
And so, I walk into my new life moment by moment, savoring each one, letting the moments wash over me as they string themselves together and open the path before me. Step by step, one foot in front of the other. Keep walking.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
A New Way of Seeing
Sophie and I just went through a bit of a breakdown, or breakthrough, as I like to see it. We've both been dealing with a lot getting ready to move to France, and we've been adjusting and integrating pretty well up until this week. But, as happens with breakthroughs, we're both feeling better now that we're through it.
Sophie had to go in for her last veterinarian visit on Monday in order to get all her travel papers signed by the USDA-certified vet. She's basically fine, but I'd been noticing behavior that told me her anal glands needed to be expressed, and she's "barbered" her lower stomach...shaved herself, so-to-speak. The expressing happened--which can not be a pleasant experience--and the vet wanted to put her on antibiotics, both for that and because she thought there might be a bladder infection. After three doses of the antibiotics, Sophie was throwing up and had diarrhea, so I stopped the medication and we went back to the vet today. Only today, Sophie got to see her regular vet, Dr. Mariann Rozsa, of the Bayside Vet Hospital in Point Loma, for all you San Diego folks. Dr. Rozsa is a miracle of a vet and a feline specialist. She loves cats and Sophie loves Dr. Rozsa as she loves very few people. Sophie was calm throughout the visit and didn't fight when she got a B12 shot or had a pill put down her throat or got put back into her carrier. You would have thought she was a different animal. She didn't cry on the way home, ate two plates of food and immediately went to sleep. She's fine. No more antibiotics, just probiotics to sprinkle on her food and three more pills for nausea and done. Dr. Rozsa treated Sophie with such love that Sophie perked up, received energy from the visit, and calmed down...all at the same time.
Why Sophie's anal glands and why now? A cat's anal glands secrete when the cat's bowels move. It carries hormonal information and, through scent, any animal that smells the information contained in the secretions knows everything they need to know about the cat who secreted it. It's identifying information. It's who the cat is. In my view, Sophie has lost a clarity about who she is. She's gone through a lot in the last few years...a number of moves, losing a "brother" cat with whom she had a very conflicted relationship, losing her older "sister" cat who she loved and with whom she's lived her whole life, being left alone with a caretaker while I walked The Camino, and then being left alone again almost immediately when I went back to France to find a place to live. It would be a lot to adjust to and process under any circumstances, but to then add this huge move across the world to all of what she's already been through, put her into an identity crisis. Sophie has to see herself differently, in the same way that I do. She is no longer who she was, and is in the process of rebirthing herself into who she will be in our new home and new life...creating a new identity.
Yesterday, I drove up to the USDA office in El Segundo, which is just south of the Los Angeles airport. I had to take Sophie's travel papers there to get everything officially stamped, signed, and numbered. Thanks to Jennifer, in the Bayside Vet Hospital office, all the paperwork was in order and complete. So, $38 and an hour and a half later, I was on my way.
I had been fine on the way up to LA but, on the way back, my left eye started to tear and felt scratchy and got swollen and started creating mucus. By the time I got back to San Diego, my left eye was practically swollen shut. I've never had conjunctivitis, but I figured that's what I had. Why I had it was a mystery, but have it I did. I went to bed early and hoped that it would be better when I got up, but no. Both eyes were affected, but my left eye was extreme. I had to find a doctor.
I went to a family clinic near my sister's house, ended up being referred to another clinic in a different part of town, went there, waited about three hours, and saw a lovely doctor who told me not to worry and that I'd be fine in a few days. He prescribed antibiotic drops for my eyes and some allergy pills to reduce the swelling and sent me on my way. Done. My eyes are already feeling better.
Why my eyes, specifically why my left eye, and why now? Well, the physical trigger was that I'd been helping my sister clean out her garage and back porch for the last week, which meant considerable amounts of dust for my system to deal with. But, I've been in dusty situations before and not developed conjunctivitis or had an extreme allergic reaction, so why now? The answer I got was because I need to see in a new way. And, specifically, I need to see in a more feminine way--left eye. Yes... I'm leaving my country and everything I know to move to a new country and live a different life. My life will look/be different in all aspects. I will be seeing new things and seeing new ways of doing things. I will need to see things differently in order to adapt to my new culture and adopt new customs and ways of being. My eyes needed to be cleaned out and reset. I needed to come into a visceral awareness of the need to see in a new way.
I'm moving from a very masculine, aggressive culture in the US to a very feminine, receptive culture in France. It's so important that I see this and see the difference between the two. I will have an enormous amount to do when I get to Uzes. I have to set up my apartment, starting from scratch. My normal way of getting this done would be to launch an all out assault, attack the situation and wrestle it to completion. One way to do it. But, I need to pull myself back from my old normal. The old way will not be the most effective way in my new home.
Fortunately, without realizing it, I arranged to arrive in Uzes on a Saturday afternoon. Fortunate because that means my first full day there will be a Sunday. On Sundays in France, everything is closed and life is slow and people enjoy the day. This means, I can't even try to hit the road running. I will take Sunday to get to know my new apartment. I'll spend time in it and measure it and let it talk to me. Every space wants different things and different colors. Every space has a certain feel and flow to it that tells you where to place the furniture. And, having a whole day to get to know my new space before putting one thing into it is a real blessing.
Sophie and I leave San Diego next Tuesday, fly away on Wednesday, and arrive in Uzes on Saturday. Our day of departure from all that's comfortable and familiar is drawing near. I've been so focused on getting everything done in order to be ready to leave--masculine aspect--that I've given very little attention to the emotional impact of leaving--feminine aspect. But, because of what's happened for both myself and Sophie over the last few days, I've given the emotional aspect a chance to talk to me and catch up. So, I'm seeing more clearly, all is indeed well, and I am yet again on my knees in gratitude, which is never a bad place to be.
Sophie had to go in for her last veterinarian visit on Monday in order to get all her travel papers signed by the USDA-certified vet. She's basically fine, but I'd been noticing behavior that told me her anal glands needed to be expressed, and she's "barbered" her lower stomach...shaved herself, so-to-speak. The expressing happened--which can not be a pleasant experience--and the vet wanted to put her on antibiotics, both for that and because she thought there might be a bladder infection. After three doses of the antibiotics, Sophie was throwing up and had diarrhea, so I stopped the medication and we went back to the vet today. Only today, Sophie got to see her regular vet, Dr. Mariann Rozsa, of the Bayside Vet Hospital in Point Loma, for all you San Diego folks. Dr. Rozsa is a miracle of a vet and a feline specialist. She loves cats and Sophie loves Dr. Rozsa as she loves very few people. Sophie was calm throughout the visit and didn't fight when she got a B12 shot or had a pill put down her throat or got put back into her carrier. You would have thought she was a different animal. She didn't cry on the way home, ate two plates of food and immediately went to sleep. She's fine. No more antibiotics, just probiotics to sprinkle on her food and three more pills for nausea and done. Dr. Rozsa treated Sophie with such love that Sophie perked up, received energy from the visit, and calmed down...all at the same time.
Why Sophie's anal glands and why now? A cat's anal glands secrete when the cat's bowels move. It carries hormonal information and, through scent, any animal that smells the information contained in the secretions knows everything they need to know about the cat who secreted it. It's identifying information. It's who the cat is. In my view, Sophie has lost a clarity about who she is. She's gone through a lot in the last few years...a number of moves, losing a "brother" cat with whom she had a very conflicted relationship, losing her older "sister" cat who she loved and with whom she's lived her whole life, being left alone with a caretaker while I walked The Camino, and then being left alone again almost immediately when I went back to France to find a place to live. It would be a lot to adjust to and process under any circumstances, but to then add this huge move across the world to all of what she's already been through, put her into an identity crisis. Sophie has to see herself differently, in the same way that I do. She is no longer who she was, and is in the process of rebirthing herself into who she will be in our new home and new life...creating a new identity.
Yesterday, I drove up to the USDA office in El Segundo, which is just south of the Los Angeles airport. I had to take Sophie's travel papers there to get everything officially stamped, signed, and numbered. Thanks to Jennifer, in the Bayside Vet Hospital office, all the paperwork was in order and complete. So, $38 and an hour and a half later, I was on my way.
I had been fine on the way up to LA but, on the way back, my left eye started to tear and felt scratchy and got swollen and started creating mucus. By the time I got back to San Diego, my left eye was practically swollen shut. I've never had conjunctivitis, but I figured that's what I had. Why I had it was a mystery, but have it I did. I went to bed early and hoped that it would be better when I got up, but no. Both eyes were affected, but my left eye was extreme. I had to find a doctor.
I went to a family clinic near my sister's house, ended up being referred to another clinic in a different part of town, went there, waited about three hours, and saw a lovely doctor who told me not to worry and that I'd be fine in a few days. He prescribed antibiotic drops for my eyes and some allergy pills to reduce the swelling and sent me on my way. Done. My eyes are already feeling better.
Why my eyes, specifically why my left eye, and why now? Well, the physical trigger was that I'd been helping my sister clean out her garage and back porch for the last week, which meant considerable amounts of dust for my system to deal with. But, I've been in dusty situations before and not developed conjunctivitis or had an extreme allergic reaction, so why now? The answer I got was because I need to see in a new way. And, specifically, I need to see in a more feminine way--left eye. Yes... I'm leaving my country and everything I know to move to a new country and live a different life. My life will look/be different in all aspects. I will be seeing new things and seeing new ways of doing things. I will need to see things differently in order to adapt to my new culture and adopt new customs and ways of being. My eyes needed to be cleaned out and reset. I needed to come into a visceral awareness of the need to see in a new way.
I'm moving from a very masculine, aggressive culture in the US to a very feminine, receptive culture in France. It's so important that I see this and see the difference between the two. I will have an enormous amount to do when I get to Uzes. I have to set up my apartment, starting from scratch. My normal way of getting this done would be to launch an all out assault, attack the situation and wrestle it to completion. One way to do it. But, I need to pull myself back from my old normal. The old way will not be the most effective way in my new home.
Fortunately, without realizing it, I arranged to arrive in Uzes on a Saturday afternoon. Fortunate because that means my first full day there will be a Sunday. On Sundays in France, everything is closed and life is slow and people enjoy the day. This means, I can't even try to hit the road running. I will take Sunday to get to know my new apartment. I'll spend time in it and measure it and let it talk to me. Every space wants different things and different colors. Every space has a certain feel and flow to it that tells you where to place the furniture. And, having a whole day to get to know my new space before putting one thing into it is a real blessing.
Sophie and I leave San Diego next Tuesday, fly away on Wednesday, and arrive in Uzes on Saturday. Our day of departure from all that's comfortable and familiar is drawing near. I've been so focused on getting everything done in order to be ready to leave--masculine aspect--that I've given very little attention to the emotional impact of leaving--feminine aspect. But, because of what's happened for both myself and Sophie over the last few days, I've given the emotional aspect a chance to talk to me and catch up. So, I'm seeing more clearly, all is indeed well, and I am yet again on my knees in gratitude, which is never a bad place to be.
Monday, January 11, 2016
David Bowie
David Bowie's death is all over the media today, as it should be. A giant has passed from us and gone on to the next phase of his journey. We are sad at our loss of him, grateful for being alive on the planet with him and being given the chance to experience the brilliance of his work while we were here, and inspired by his ability to continue expressing his brilliance right up to his passing.
He was a master, in ways that many of us are not. He was not a big person physically, but he was indeed a big person in terms of his expression and his impact on all of us who knew of him or knew him, or received the grace of his work. I particularly revere the creatively unique and expressive people we've been gifted with because I've always struggled so with my own creativity, uniqueness and expression. David Bowie's ability to know who he was, embrace and accept himself, and then express himself out for us to learn from and enjoy was a rare gift of humanity for all of us to witness. We have so few souls among us who are able to do that at the level he did.
David Bowie's death also reminds me that no matter how we manage to live, none of us are exempt from the seeming vagaries of human life. Because of my own creative struggles, I can trick myself into a destination frame of mind about my own journey...if I could just express my creativity my life would be better, I would be better, I would be healthier, I would be more loved, I would be more accepted, I would be...fill in the blank. Many of us hinge things on the result of something else. And, it's such a misconception in terms of the way things work. I know this but it doesn't stop me from going there, all to often.
David Bowie was beautiful, successful, wealthy, creative, expressive, loved, talented...on and on and on. Those things gave him a rich and wonderful life, but not a life devoid of pain, heartbreak, loss, disappointment, sickness and all the other things we might consider negative that make up a human life. None of us are immune to the full spectrum of being human, no matter how masterful we are in any area of who we are or how we live. And, that's really the point. I sometimes have difficulty remembering that we all came here to experience life in a body in all of its aspects. And, some of those aspects rip us apart and bring us to our knees in despair and sorrow. But, those aspects of life that temporarily destroy us, and from which we need to rebirth ourselves and rise again, are the ones that build our character and through which we learn who we are and by which we are deepened and grow in compassion and understanding. They are the aspects that grow us and make us strong.
Nothing we do gets us out of anything. We can't avoid life. David Bowie didn't try to avoid life, he embraced it up until the moment he died. He lived fully and he died fully, surrounded by those who loved him. He showed us what a full life looks like and how to pass gracefully from this world. He left us with a great legacy from which we will all be able to expand ourselves and learn from for a long time to come. We will be uplifted by his work for generations. We will look upon images of his beauty in awe. He indelibly imprinted his vibration upon this planet and upon all of us who were lucky enough to be here with him.
We honor you as you pass from us, David. We will not forget you. On wings of angels! Fly free!
He was a master, in ways that many of us are not. He was not a big person physically, but he was indeed a big person in terms of his expression and his impact on all of us who knew of him or knew him, or received the grace of his work. I particularly revere the creatively unique and expressive people we've been gifted with because I've always struggled so with my own creativity, uniqueness and expression. David Bowie's ability to know who he was, embrace and accept himself, and then express himself out for us to learn from and enjoy was a rare gift of humanity for all of us to witness. We have so few souls among us who are able to do that at the level he did.
David Bowie's death also reminds me that no matter how we manage to live, none of us are exempt from the seeming vagaries of human life. Because of my own creative struggles, I can trick myself into a destination frame of mind about my own journey...if I could just express my creativity my life would be better, I would be better, I would be healthier, I would be more loved, I would be more accepted, I would be...fill in the blank. Many of us hinge things on the result of something else. And, it's such a misconception in terms of the way things work. I know this but it doesn't stop me from going there, all to often.
David Bowie was beautiful, successful, wealthy, creative, expressive, loved, talented...on and on and on. Those things gave him a rich and wonderful life, but not a life devoid of pain, heartbreak, loss, disappointment, sickness and all the other things we might consider negative that make up a human life. None of us are immune to the full spectrum of being human, no matter how masterful we are in any area of who we are or how we live. And, that's really the point. I sometimes have difficulty remembering that we all came here to experience life in a body in all of its aspects. And, some of those aspects rip us apart and bring us to our knees in despair and sorrow. But, those aspects of life that temporarily destroy us, and from which we need to rebirth ourselves and rise again, are the ones that build our character and through which we learn who we are and by which we are deepened and grow in compassion and understanding. They are the aspects that grow us and make us strong.
Nothing we do gets us out of anything. We can't avoid life. David Bowie didn't try to avoid life, he embraced it up until the moment he died. He lived fully and he died fully, surrounded by those who loved him. He showed us what a full life looks like and how to pass gracefully from this world. He left us with a great legacy from which we will all be able to expand ourselves and learn from for a long time to come. We will be uplifted by his work for generations. We will look upon images of his beauty in awe. He indelibly imprinted his vibration upon this planet and upon all of us who were lucky enough to be here with him.
We honor you as you pass from us, David. We will not forget you. On wings of angels! Fly free!
Friday, December 11, 2015
Inhabiting Our Creation
I have signed the rental contract for my apartment in Uzes, France. I have completed my pile of paperwork to submit to the French Consulate in Los Angeles for my long-stay visa. I've done everything I can do at this point in terms of paperwork that will allow me to transport my cat, Sophie, internationally. I've made my airline reservations and bought my one-way ticket to France. And, I continue packing and vacating my life in San Diego.
Moving from one country to another is a complicated business. As with all things, one doesn't really know what one is getting into until one starts on the path. I have days of great accomplishment and I have days of feeling lost where I wander around and get nothing done. But, on those days when nothing seemingly gets done, I think what's really happening is a lot of processing and integration. A good deal might be happening in the world of form, but it's internally where things are really rearranging themselves.
We feel a pull to something, and we move toward the pull, but in order for us to open to a new way of being and living, we have to change within ourselves. There is an alchemy that takes place within us that makes us able to move into and embrace the new life. We have to become the person who is able to live the life we see for ourselves. And, this type of alchemy takes a lot of energy. As we walk forward physically, creating the change in form, we are being transformed internally so that we are able to vibrate in resonance with the new choices we're making.
As we move forward we're confronted by new ideas, new situations, new ways of doing things, new ways of perceiving things, new people, new places, new language, new culture. It's all this newness that keeps things interesting and draws new Life through us. It is the newness that expands us and grows us. But, it is also the newness that tires us and overwhelms us and pushes us to our limits and beyond. Some days I just want peace and comfort. Some days I don't have the energy to greet the newness of things. Some days I want to hide and pull the bed covers over my head.
I still have a lot of steps to walk through to get from San Diego to Uzes, France. And, I do better when I focus on what's in front of me and do things as they show up to be done. It's when I look ahead at everything yet to be done and all of what remains that it can seem overwhelming. But, no matter what it is we ever do, it's done in bits and pieces, step by step. I tend to get ahead of myself. So, I need to constantly remind myself to stay present and to breathe. I also need to remind myself how amazingly well things are going. When I get ahead of myself I tend to fret when there's no real need to. When I'm able to stay present, I calm down.
I'm excited and I'm terrified by the big changes I've put into motion for myself. Big changes bring up big insecurities. But, it's in walking through the big changes that we quiet the noise of the insecurities and find confidence in ourselves. Change isn't easy. When Life calls us to something, it's usually not because it's easy or safe or comfortable; it's because it's challenging and expanding and it's what grows us. And, as I walk forward, I feel the new Life opening to me. People show up to tell me things I need to know and help me along the way. Synchronous things occur and events take place and the puzzle pieces fit together, because this is the way Life works when we inhabit our creation.
When we live and breathe and inhabit our creations, we grow into them and they form themselves around us. This is how we draw Life through us. This is how Life increases itself. This is how the path appears out of nothing. This is the dance. It's a never-ending spiral, like a DNA strand. Life, everlasting. Life, constantly drawing us forward. Life, in motion. Life.
Moving from one country to another is a complicated business. As with all things, one doesn't really know what one is getting into until one starts on the path. I have days of great accomplishment and I have days of feeling lost where I wander around and get nothing done. But, on those days when nothing seemingly gets done, I think what's really happening is a lot of processing and integration. A good deal might be happening in the world of form, but it's internally where things are really rearranging themselves.
We feel a pull to something, and we move toward the pull, but in order for us to open to a new way of being and living, we have to change within ourselves. There is an alchemy that takes place within us that makes us able to move into and embrace the new life. We have to become the person who is able to live the life we see for ourselves. And, this type of alchemy takes a lot of energy. As we walk forward physically, creating the change in form, we are being transformed internally so that we are able to vibrate in resonance with the new choices we're making.
As we move forward we're confronted by new ideas, new situations, new ways of doing things, new ways of perceiving things, new people, new places, new language, new culture. It's all this newness that keeps things interesting and draws new Life through us. It is the newness that expands us and grows us. But, it is also the newness that tires us and overwhelms us and pushes us to our limits and beyond. Some days I just want peace and comfort. Some days I don't have the energy to greet the newness of things. Some days I want to hide and pull the bed covers over my head.
I still have a lot of steps to walk through to get from San Diego to Uzes, France. And, I do better when I focus on what's in front of me and do things as they show up to be done. It's when I look ahead at everything yet to be done and all of what remains that it can seem overwhelming. But, no matter what it is we ever do, it's done in bits and pieces, step by step. I tend to get ahead of myself. So, I need to constantly remind myself to stay present and to breathe. I also need to remind myself how amazingly well things are going. When I get ahead of myself I tend to fret when there's no real need to. When I'm able to stay present, I calm down.
I'm excited and I'm terrified by the big changes I've put into motion for myself. Big changes bring up big insecurities. But, it's in walking through the big changes that we quiet the noise of the insecurities and find confidence in ourselves. Change isn't easy. When Life calls us to something, it's usually not because it's easy or safe or comfortable; it's because it's challenging and expanding and it's what grows us. And, as I walk forward, I feel the new Life opening to me. People show up to tell me things I need to know and help me along the way. Synchronous things occur and events take place and the puzzle pieces fit together, because this is the way Life works when we inhabit our creation.
When we live and breathe and inhabit our creations, we grow into them and they form themselves around us. This is how we draw Life through us. This is how Life increases itself. This is how the path appears out of nothing. This is the dance. It's a never-ending spiral, like a DNA strand. Life, everlasting. Life, constantly drawing us forward. Life, in motion. Life.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
All Is Well
The theme for this month's astrology forecast from The Power Path by Lena Stevens is "Transition." And, I'm smack dab in the middle of huge transition. I guess that makes me right on time, not that it feels like that. It feels like chaotic free-fall. But, I keep reminding myself that if I step on the path, the path will appear. Yes. Trust and let Life take the wheel.
My transition feels like a high-wire act with no net. I have to let go of everything on one side of it in order to allow in what's on the other side. No matter how trusting one thinks they are, this type of situation brings up all of one's insecurities. I know to give my insecurities their space and let them talk away while not buying into them, but in the actual living of it, it's not always easy to do. So, it's a bit of a see-saw emotionally.
Our egos are set up to be concerned for our survival. And, homelessness, even transitional homelessness, gets the ego all stirred up. Open-ended situations of blind trust are not where the ego shines. But, in spite of all the warnings my ego is sending me, both through my own mental spinning as well as being reflected through people in my world, I continue forward into unknown territory. The knowing that is emerging deep within me is that All Is Well. I keep saying that to myself. And, it's true, even though I have no idea what it's all going to look like.
I've got a lot of balls in the air right now, and it's going to take a few more days for the important ones to settle into the palm of my hand. Time constraints keep cropping up around all of the elements involved. But, so far, All Is Well. I have a place to stay during the time I have to be out of my apartment in San Diego and when I leave for France, which, until yesterday, I didn't have. All the things I own are literally flying out the door to all the craigslist angels who are coming to buy them. Paperwork and insurance issues and health coverage issues and cat transport issues are coming together. It's my final resting place in France that's still not completely settled, but the apartment situation is in process as I write this.
The place I thought I was going to live in near Montelimar did not end up being the right place for me once I saw it. It was too far out in the country and too isolated for someone who wants to be able to walk to French classes and interact with French people in a village setting everyday. I've made friends in Uzes, which was starting to feel like home when I left to come back to San Diego, and it was clear to me that that is where my heart is.
So, Transition, yes, with a capital "T." Trust, yes, with a capital "T." No matter what's happening, focus on what I'm creating, do not get distracted by the small stuff, and keep walking. And, always remember that All Is Well. Thank you, thank you, thank you...my mantra.
My transition feels like a high-wire act with no net. I have to let go of everything on one side of it in order to allow in what's on the other side. No matter how trusting one thinks they are, this type of situation brings up all of one's insecurities. I know to give my insecurities their space and let them talk away while not buying into them, but in the actual living of it, it's not always easy to do. So, it's a bit of a see-saw emotionally.
Our egos are set up to be concerned for our survival. And, homelessness, even transitional homelessness, gets the ego all stirred up. Open-ended situations of blind trust are not where the ego shines. But, in spite of all the warnings my ego is sending me, both through my own mental spinning as well as being reflected through people in my world, I continue forward into unknown territory. The knowing that is emerging deep within me is that All Is Well. I keep saying that to myself. And, it's true, even though I have no idea what it's all going to look like.
I've got a lot of balls in the air right now, and it's going to take a few more days for the important ones to settle into the palm of my hand. Time constraints keep cropping up around all of the elements involved. But, so far, All Is Well. I have a place to stay during the time I have to be out of my apartment in San Diego and when I leave for France, which, until yesterday, I didn't have. All the things I own are literally flying out the door to all the craigslist angels who are coming to buy them. Paperwork and insurance issues and health coverage issues and cat transport issues are coming together. It's my final resting place in France that's still not completely settled, but the apartment situation is in process as I write this.
The place I thought I was going to live in near Montelimar did not end up being the right place for me once I saw it. It was too far out in the country and too isolated for someone who wants to be able to walk to French classes and interact with French people in a village setting everyday. I've made friends in Uzes, which was starting to feel like home when I left to come back to San Diego, and it was clear to me that that is where my heart is.
So, Transition, yes, with a capital "T." Trust, yes, with a capital "T." No matter what's happening, focus on what I'm creating, do not get distracted by the small stuff, and keep walking. And, always remember that All Is Well. Thank you, thank you, thank you...my mantra.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Still Riding the Wave
When I answer Life's call, I don't really know what will happen. Life calls. I answer. I show up. I don't know why I've been called, or even what I'm supposed to do most of the time, other than show up. And, once I show up, I do my best to ride the wave and stay on my surfboard.
Things are working out very differently in France than I expected. Why I expected things to turn out in any particular way is a mystery. You'd think I would have learned by now not to expect anything, but obviously that lesson is still being learned.
I thought I was going to live in Uzes. But, things haven't opened here either as quickly or as easily as I thought they would. Hmmm... What is Life telling me? I'm not sure, but I just stay with it and keep going. I find another apartment, this time the process is smoother, but still taking its time and feeling a bit drawn out. Then, just a day before I'm scheduled to have an apartment inspection and sign the rental contract, I'm offered an alternative opportunity for a place to live. Everything changes.
Things happen more slowly in France than they do in the U.S. This is not a bad thing. It is just something I need to adjust to. The French are not in a hurry. Life is not something to be hurried through. Life is something to be savored. These are lessons I need to learn.
I went to a lunch gathering at the home of a friend here in Uzes and met some local people who encouraged me to slow down my apartment search. They also offered me some viable alternatives for places to live so that the housing search could proceed at a more relaxed pace. I started to open to other ways of doing this and see new possibilities for how things could happen if I gave it all more time and space. I started to wonder about whether taking the apartment I'd found was the best decision. Maybe taking a step back is what was needed.
Parallel to my rental search, was the unfolding journey of a friend who was in the process of trying to buy a house a bit north of where Uzes is, near a town called Montelimar. This friend is someone I met on the airplane coming to France. We each had had our seat assignment changed twice as Life did what was needed to make sure we were seated next to each other. When I first saw my new friend, I thought he looked familiar, but I knew I'd never met him. We sat in a row of five seats. I was in the seat on the far right, there was an empty seat next to me--thank you! thank you! thank you!--and my friend sat in the middle seat. We started talking and ended up talking for most of the flight. We hit it off like we'd know each other forever. And, in some dimension, we probably have. He feels like my long lost younger brother, like family.
We've stayed in contact and followed each others respective journeys in our residence efforts. He was driving back north, after conducting some business south of Uzes, and he stopped to see me and we had dinner. During the dinner, which happened a day before I was supposed to sign my rental contract, he offered me the opportunity to move into the house he was in the process of buying. Whoa... Another possibility. Plot twist! As soon as he asked me, I knew my answer was "yes." Everything within me relaxed into that "yes."
The house is huge, with more than enough room for multiple people to live there. I will start off in some available upstairs rooms as an apartment is prepared for me on the ground floor. It is in the country with lots of land and lavender fields surrounding it. It is about 15 kilometers outside of the town of Montelimar, which is larger than Uzes. I've seen photographs of it, but will see it for the first time on Saturday before returning to the U.S. on Sunday to pack and do what needs to be done in order to come back to France to live full-time.
I'm more excited than anxious. And, even though this is all happening in a time of planetary upheaval and travel advisories, I know things are proceeding as they need to be. I see my path ahead of me and I just keep walking. I still have no idea of the speed bumps yet to come or of any number of plot twists that will surface along the way, but I have a sense of well-being in regard to everything. I have a deepened sense of trust in knowing that things will work out for the best, even if I can't always see that. I've come to understand that a closed door, or a "no," or a slowing down of progress is just Life steering me in a different direction. I'm still on my surfboard and feel like I'm finally starting to drop into the tube of my own life.
Things are working out very differently in France than I expected. Why I expected things to turn out in any particular way is a mystery. You'd think I would have learned by now not to expect anything, but obviously that lesson is still being learned.
I thought I was going to live in Uzes. But, things haven't opened here either as quickly or as easily as I thought they would. Hmmm... What is Life telling me? I'm not sure, but I just stay with it and keep going. I find another apartment, this time the process is smoother, but still taking its time and feeling a bit drawn out. Then, just a day before I'm scheduled to have an apartment inspection and sign the rental contract, I'm offered an alternative opportunity for a place to live. Everything changes.
Things happen more slowly in France than they do in the U.S. This is not a bad thing. It is just something I need to adjust to. The French are not in a hurry. Life is not something to be hurried through. Life is something to be savored. These are lessons I need to learn.
I went to a lunch gathering at the home of a friend here in Uzes and met some local people who encouraged me to slow down my apartment search. They also offered me some viable alternatives for places to live so that the housing search could proceed at a more relaxed pace. I started to open to other ways of doing this and see new possibilities for how things could happen if I gave it all more time and space. I started to wonder about whether taking the apartment I'd found was the best decision. Maybe taking a step back is what was needed.
Parallel to my rental search, was the unfolding journey of a friend who was in the process of trying to buy a house a bit north of where Uzes is, near a town called Montelimar. This friend is someone I met on the airplane coming to France. We each had had our seat assignment changed twice as Life did what was needed to make sure we were seated next to each other. When I first saw my new friend, I thought he looked familiar, but I knew I'd never met him. We sat in a row of five seats. I was in the seat on the far right, there was an empty seat next to me--thank you! thank you! thank you!--and my friend sat in the middle seat. We started talking and ended up talking for most of the flight. We hit it off like we'd know each other forever. And, in some dimension, we probably have. He feels like my long lost younger brother, like family.
We've stayed in contact and followed each others respective journeys in our residence efforts. He was driving back north, after conducting some business south of Uzes, and he stopped to see me and we had dinner. During the dinner, which happened a day before I was supposed to sign my rental contract, he offered me the opportunity to move into the house he was in the process of buying. Whoa... Another possibility. Plot twist! As soon as he asked me, I knew my answer was "yes." Everything within me relaxed into that "yes."
The house is huge, with more than enough room for multiple people to live there. I will start off in some available upstairs rooms as an apartment is prepared for me on the ground floor. It is in the country with lots of land and lavender fields surrounding it. It is about 15 kilometers outside of the town of Montelimar, which is larger than Uzes. I've seen photographs of it, but will see it for the first time on Saturday before returning to the U.S. on Sunday to pack and do what needs to be done in order to come back to France to live full-time.
I'm more excited than anxious. And, even though this is all happening in a time of planetary upheaval and travel advisories, I know things are proceeding as they need to be. I see my path ahead of me and I just keep walking. I still have no idea of the speed bumps yet to come or of any number of plot twists that will surface along the way, but I have a sense of well-being in regard to everything. I have a deepened sense of trust in knowing that things will work out for the best, even if I can't always see that. I've come to understand that a closed door, or a "no," or a slowing down of progress is just Life steering me in a different direction. I'm still on my surfboard and feel like I'm finally starting to drop into the tube of my own life.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Here I Am
I am in France. I'm not just traveling in France, I'm in the process of moving here. I am in the South, in a small town called Uzes, in the Languedoc-Rousillon provence. The closest larger towns are Nimes and Avignon. I had never been here before until coming here now to find a place to live. True to how Life happens for me, I was called to this place. Called, as in a bolt of lightning striking and an awareness of, not just the South of France, but Uzes in particular. Okay. When Life calls, I show up. So, here I am.
I rarely, if ever, know why I'm called to a place, person or thing. I just accept that I am. Sometimes, I realize later what the call was about, sometimes I don't. But, if I show up and let Life unfold as it will, then I'm giving what Life has in store for me a chance, a context in which to happen. So, here I am.
On this trip, the things that needed to happen--or, I should say, the things I thought needed to happen, because what really needed to happen is much larger in scale--are that I open a French bank account, which I've done; and, that I find a place to live and sign a rental contract for the length of my long-stay visa, which is a year. I don't have the long-stay visa yet. I have to apply for it through the French Consulate when I go back to the U.S. But, I have to have the French bank account and the rental contract in order to apply for the visa. So, here I am.
When I lock onto a call that Life has given me, I'm used to things coming together pretty quickly. It is typical of me to swoop in and magnetize things to me in a short amount of time. But, I'm not usually in contexts this different and unfamiliar to me. And, my usual pattern of swooping in and whipping it all together isn't working. This time, it's requiring some adjustments.
Initially, I was going through a rental agency referred to me through a friend. But, the person I met there didn't seem particularly interested in showing me places and didn't get back to me as he said he would. Frustrated with our interaction, I branched out and visited other agencies, looking for other people and possibilities. I ended up finding an apartment through one of these agencies and spent three days working with the people involved in order to rent the apartment, only to be told that they were not going to rent to me because I did not have my long-stay visa. I explained to them that I needed the rental contract in order to get the long-stay visa, but they didn't care. They had also decided that I didn't really have an open bank account, even after talking to my banker, who assured them that I did; and, they said it was "illegal" for them to rent to me without a long-stay visa, which it isn't, but none of that matters now.
The unconditional "no" I'd received from these people stopped me in my tracks. What? Did I hear you correctly? No? You've got to be kidding. But, it was indeed a "no." And, they weren't kidding. And, there was no movement around their "no." Done. Door closed. Move on.
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. At first I couldn't breathe at all. And then, I started to breathe very deeply. As I started to breathe again, I realized how out of my body I'd been. I'd been hovering around my body instead of inhabiting it. I'd been here, but not really been "here." But, the "no" has grounded me into myself, and into this place, in a way that I needed to be and hadn't been. And, so, here I am.
At first, all my fears about being here surfaced. Am I really supposed to be here? Did I "get it" correctly in answering the call to this place? Did I self-sabotage in some way? No. No to all of my insecure questions. And, no need to blow up one small speed bump of a "no" into a "no" of major proportion. Breathe. Keep going.
I have this inner sense of calm now, this deep feeling that everything is going to be okay. I have no idea how long it will last, but I'm so grateful for it while it's here. I need to remember how being grounded into my body feels. I need to remember that when I really come into my body, things calm down and get quiet. I need to remember that when I come into my body I feel safe and have a sense of well-being. I need to remember to breathe and tune in to where I am and listen. Life is always communicating with us, but we don't always listen. I need to listen. So, here I am.
I realize that my own desperation in regard to perceived time and money limitations were running the show. My own lifetime pattern of doing things quickly, of pushing through, of stubborn determinism were running rampant yet again. No. Stop. Breathe. Re-group. Tune in. Listen.
I think I needed to spin myself out with the apartment that didn't happen. I needed it in order to get a grip and slow down. If it had happened, I think I would have spun out even more. The people I was dealing with weren't easy, but I kept going, determined to make it work. They were unreasonable, but I tried to appease their demands. These are tendencies that I so needed to see in myself.
I have trouble saying "no," and I don't like hearing it either. But, "no" is part of Life. "No" is okay. Sometimes, "no" is good, and saves us from ourselves. Or, it moves us in ways we wouldn't have gone, and helps us discover things we wouldn't have discovered. It shows us alternatives we wouldn't have seen, and helps us get where we needed to go in the first place.
I'm now more open to this place, to its Spirit and its voice, than I was before. This place, Uzes, called me, and I need to really feel into it and be fully with it...with her, for she is feminine. How could I just come in, without ever really connecting to this place, and hope to have found a place to live that really fit? Why did I, and do I, rush through things instead of savoring them? Why do I limit my experience of Life in any way? I was feeling like I was drowning in panic and overwhelm before; but, since the "no," all of that has slipped away.
I don't know how long it will take me to find an apartment. I don't know how quickly or easily all the paperwork around it will get done. I don't know when I'll fly back to the U.S., or when I'll move out of my apartment there, or how long the long-stay visa process will take and what other speed bumps might reveal themselves along the way. But, somehow, right now, I'm okay with all of it. I've opened to this journey and am ready to take it in and live it instead of skimming the surface of it.
I've let go of my "lack and limitation" perspective. I've settled into a deeper place of knowing that, smooth or not, it's all going to work out and be okay. I realize that all is well. What a relief! So, here I AM.
I rarely, if ever, know why I'm called to a place, person or thing. I just accept that I am. Sometimes, I realize later what the call was about, sometimes I don't. But, if I show up and let Life unfold as it will, then I'm giving what Life has in store for me a chance, a context in which to happen. So, here I am.
On this trip, the things that needed to happen--or, I should say, the things I thought needed to happen, because what really needed to happen is much larger in scale--are that I open a French bank account, which I've done; and, that I find a place to live and sign a rental contract for the length of my long-stay visa, which is a year. I don't have the long-stay visa yet. I have to apply for it through the French Consulate when I go back to the U.S. But, I have to have the French bank account and the rental contract in order to apply for the visa. So, here I am.
When I lock onto a call that Life has given me, I'm used to things coming together pretty quickly. It is typical of me to swoop in and magnetize things to me in a short amount of time. But, I'm not usually in contexts this different and unfamiliar to me. And, my usual pattern of swooping in and whipping it all together isn't working. This time, it's requiring some adjustments.
Initially, I was going through a rental agency referred to me through a friend. But, the person I met there didn't seem particularly interested in showing me places and didn't get back to me as he said he would. Frustrated with our interaction, I branched out and visited other agencies, looking for other people and possibilities. I ended up finding an apartment through one of these agencies and spent three days working with the people involved in order to rent the apartment, only to be told that they were not going to rent to me because I did not have my long-stay visa. I explained to them that I needed the rental contract in order to get the long-stay visa, but they didn't care. They had also decided that I didn't really have an open bank account, even after talking to my banker, who assured them that I did; and, they said it was "illegal" for them to rent to me without a long-stay visa, which it isn't, but none of that matters now.
The unconditional "no" I'd received from these people stopped me in my tracks. What? Did I hear you correctly? No? You've got to be kidding. But, it was indeed a "no." And, they weren't kidding. And, there was no movement around their "no." Done. Door closed. Move on.
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. At first I couldn't breathe at all. And then, I started to breathe very deeply. As I started to breathe again, I realized how out of my body I'd been. I'd been hovering around my body instead of inhabiting it. I'd been here, but not really been "here." But, the "no" has grounded me into myself, and into this place, in a way that I needed to be and hadn't been. And, so, here I am.
At first, all my fears about being here surfaced. Am I really supposed to be here? Did I "get it" correctly in answering the call to this place? Did I self-sabotage in some way? No. No to all of my insecure questions. And, no need to blow up one small speed bump of a "no" into a "no" of major proportion. Breathe. Keep going.
I have this inner sense of calm now, this deep feeling that everything is going to be okay. I have no idea how long it will last, but I'm so grateful for it while it's here. I need to remember how being grounded into my body feels. I need to remember that when I really come into my body, things calm down and get quiet. I need to remember that when I come into my body I feel safe and have a sense of well-being. I need to remember to breathe and tune in to where I am and listen. Life is always communicating with us, but we don't always listen. I need to listen. So, here I am.
I realize that my own desperation in regard to perceived time and money limitations were running the show. My own lifetime pattern of doing things quickly, of pushing through, of stubborn determinism were running rampant yet again. No. Stop. Breathe. Re-group. Tune in. Listen.
I think I needed to spin myself out with the apartment that didn't happen. I needed it in order to get a grip and slow down. If it had happened, I think I would have spun out even more. The people I was dealing with weren't easy, but I kept going, determined to make it work. They were unreasonable, but I tried to appease their demands. These are tendencies that I so needed to see in myself.
I have trouble saying "no," and I don't like hearing it either. But, "no" is part of Life. "No" is okay. Sometimes, "no" is good, and saves us from ourselves. Or, it moves us in ways we wouldn't have gone, and helps us discover things we wouldn't have discovered. It shows us alternatives we wouldn't have seen, and helps us get where we needed to go in the first place.
I'm now more open to this place, to its Spirit and its voice, than I was before. This place, Uzes, called me, and I need to really feel into it and be fully with it...with her, for she is feminine. How could I just come in, without ever really connecting to this place, and hope to have found a place to live that really fit? Why did I, and do I, rush through things instead of savoring them? Why do I limit my experience of Life in any way? I was feeling like I was drowning in panic and overwhelm before; but, since the "no," all of that has slipped away.
I don't know how long it will take me to find an apartment. I don't know how quickly or easily all the paperwork around it will get done. I don't know when I'll fly back to the U.S., or when I'll move out of my apartment there, or how long the long-stay visa process will take and what other speed bumps might reveal themselves along the way. But, somehow, right now, I'm okay with all of it. I've opened to this journey and am ready to take it in and live it instead of skimming the surface of it.
I've let go of my "lack and limitation" perspective. I've settled into a deeper place of knowing that, smooth or not, it's all going to work out and be okay. I realize that all is well. What a relief! So, here I AM.
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