An Unexpected Gift of Grace

I was standing in my kitchen looking out the window and I had the sudden realization that I was no longer trying to “make it.”  What a relief.  What a burden to lay down.

I’ve been driven for my whole life.  I’ve always been trying to “make it,” always been trying to be more, better, thinner, liked, accepted, right, correct…something.  There have been brief periods of rest when the striving took a break, but it was never gone for long and would always resume.  And, in the background, there was always an engine running.  This kind of efforting to be more, or to be perfect—whatever that means—drives a lot of us but, for me, it came out of my orphan beginnings.

I always knew I was adopted.  My parents told me from the time I began to ask where I came from.  They never wanted me to be surprised by it later in life.  But, somehow it created a fear in me that they might send me back; that, if I wasn’t good enough, I might lose my family.  If I wasn’t the perfect little girl I might not be loved.  If I didn’t do what I was told, maybe they wouldn’t let me stay.  If I was too loud, I might have to leave.  These types of concerns have shadowed all my relationships, my performance at work, and the way I look at the world.

I was talking with my hairdresser in San Diego one day, while she was cutting my hair, about trying to make ends meet and finding work when one was older.  I’d been retired for a couple of years by then and was working part-time and she was in the process of losing a job she’d had for a long time and liked.  We were both struggling.  And, she said to me, “Here we are at this age and still trying to make it.”  Whoa…  I’d never thought of my life like that, but the realization of what she said landed on me very heavily.

When one is constantly striving and struggling the way I did, it rather precludes presence or gratitude.  I had moments of both presence and gratitude throughout my life, but they were always visited upon me by grace and short-lived.  There was a constant dissatisfaction and depression driving me forward.  I was never good enough.  I never did enough.  I never felt secure.  I never really belonged.

But, now, almost four years after I retired, and four months after moving to France, I realize that the striving is done.  The need to “make it” in any way is gone.  My need to prove myself has left me.  I’m fine the way I am.  Life is good and all is well.  I’m able to live my life one day at a time and enjoy each one.  I no longer feel inadequate.  Amazing.

I didn’t actively do anything to stop myself from striving.  It is a gift of grace, an unexpected awareness, a surprising internal shift.  I do think it has been facilitated by the quiet simplicity of my life, by the smallness of the village where I live, by my increased connection to nature, and by the kind acceptance of my neighbors and friends here.  Something in me has settled by moving here and choosing this for myself.  The voice of restless dissatisfaction has finally become silent.

I make no conclusions or judgments about this awareness, I’m just grateful.  Grateful for the quiet.  Grateful for the peace.  Grateful. 

Crossroads

It is so disheartening to hear of yet more terrorist attacks today in Brussels.  When will the hate stop?  When will the idea that terror and killing helps anything be realized to be false?  When will we be able to accept each other and our differences without acting out violently in opposition?

At this point in time, I think prejudice and fear are more based in economics than anything else.  How long do we think a nation or culture can be suppressed or marginalized or utilized without resentment and hatred building?  I don't condone violence for any reason.  I think there is always another way.  But, lack of education and economic opportunity breed desperation, and desperation often turns to violence.

I don't believe the terrorist acts we now witness in our world are based in religious differences.  I believe that they are born out of desperation and feelings of helplessness in an effort to gain some small amount of power; even if that miniscule moment of power comes at the sacrifice of their own or another's life.  I find it tragically sad that those who perpetrate these acts of terror feel their only solution lies in death and destruction.  And, that their only means of being seen lie in terror, suicide and murder.

It's a sad statement for all of us.  Because, these terrorists are us.  They are not separate from the rest of us.  They are lost and filled with rage and disconnected, but they are still part of the humanity of this planet.  We need to collectively find a way to communicate with these people and truly see them and hear them.  Our fear of them is such that we want nothing to do with them, which is the crux of the matter.  They need to be seen and heard and responded to in a neutral way.

I'm not saying that there don't need to be consequences for this type of acting out in violence.  There must be consequences.  But, in order to stop its continuance, we have to look to other ways than how we've been dealing with it up until now.  I don't think sane, balanced people plan and execute terrorist attacks, or commit murder.  Which means these people are soul sick and need attention and assistance.

Where does the level of helplessness and rage come from that would cause someone in a position of leadership to encourage his or her people to violence?  How did the disconnection and desperation develop within a particular culture that has now resulted in so much death and destruction?  I personally feel that these acts are an extreme cry to be seen and heard.  They are an extreme lashing out at a society that they feel has marginalized them and ignored them and denied them opportunity.

We can not overlook the terrorist acts that have happened, nor can we excuse those who've perpetrated them, but we can open our hearts in compassion for what has caused them to happen.  We can dig deep and find the love within ourselves that will allow us to see and hear those who have reached a place of such desperation.  Some of these people might be too entrenched in their positions to be reached, which is a tragedy of major proportion.  But, there are many behind them who are able to respond rationally and reconnect.  Yet, in order to reach into this culture of violence, we need to make a real effort to understand their position, acknowledge their point of view, and work toward a solution that creates peace.

Peace will require forgiveness on both sides of the equation.  If opening to each other, listening to each other, and forgiving each other are not possible, violence will continue.  But, we have to start somewhere.  We have to do what's necessary to bridge the gap.  We have to see and honor and understand each other and accept our differences.  We have to learn to appreciate our diversity instead of fearing it.  Just because any one of us believes a certain way, doesn't mean that we all have to agree.  We can agree to disagree.  We can keep working to reach a neutral stance.  But, the violence must be stopped.

This applies to those in any culture.  It applies to Donald Trump, and all of those he encourages to violence, as much as it does to those in any other culture we've become accustomed to blaming.  None of us are innocent.  This type of global problem, that is manifesting in all cultures, is a collective problem that we all need to take responsibility for and address in whatever way we can.

Why do people respond to a person who encourages violence and separation and prejudice and persecution?  Because that person encapsulates their fear, and they're acting out in reaction to it.  Because they are lost and don't know any other way to deal with their feelings of helplessness.  We are at a crossroads.  And, we need to make some important choices.  Do we go for fear, hate and separation?  Or, do we go for love, compassion and understanding?

The choice is ours in every day and every moment and every instance of interaction.  How do you want to create your world?  What is your vision?  Dig deep.  Think about it.    

Feeling It All

I'm sad today, for no apparent or logical reason.  Tears fall, just because they want to.  The weather agrees with me and is gray and rainy.  It's just one of those days.  I'm grateful it's not sunny.  It feels good to have the weather support me in my moodiness.

The thing that time and age has shown me is that it's okay to be sad.  I don't need to feel better right now.  I don't need to fix anything.  I just need to allow what's moving in me to move.  Something has chosen this day to move.  Some ancient sadness, tied to something I don't know about or can't remember, has chosen this blessed day to move.  And, all I need to do is give it the space to do so.

My being has finally reached the place where it's okay for this sadness to loosen its grip and move.  And, the tears I shed this day are both the sadness that's leaving and moving through my being, and the gratitude for that process.  They are a mixed bag of emotions.  They are multidimensional.  They are deep and true.  There is nothing wrong with feeling sad or with crying, even if for no apparent reason.

Have you noticed that we--as humans--often have a hard time allowing each other to feel our emotions?  Why is that?  Why are we uncomfortable in the presence of certain emotions?  I think it's because we haven't reached a place of comfort within ourselves in regard to those emotions.  I have more difficulty feeling and expressing anger than I do with sadness.  I have trouble with extreme happiness.  I don't understand it.  But, those are my limitations and issues.  Sadness is more familiar.  My being was born carrying an overabundance of sadness.  It was a life choice I made long before I entered this body.  I brought it with me because I knew that it was in this lifetime that it would be able to move.  So, I'm grateful when it makes itself known and another piece of it moves through.

One of the grave mistakes I think the modern spiritual movement has made is to ignore or deny our darkness.  The whole focus is on love and light and positive thinking, but at the expense of denying the other half of our humanness.  There's nothing wrong with love and light and positive thinking, but it's only part of the equation.  The result of this kind of thinking is that we can go into judgement of ourselves when we feel things other than love and light, or when we're not able to have positive thoughts in regard to whatever moment we're facing.  One of the great gifts of being human and having a body is to feel the full gamut of emotions that are connected with that experience.  When we start to shut them off, for any reason, we inhibit our ability to live fully.

I think we would benefit from teaching our children how to stand in and experience their emotions.  Instead of saying, "Don't cry" when someone is crying, we could reach out and hold them and allow those emotions to move without being cut off.  When someone is angry, instead of trying to shut them down and shut them up, we could give them the space to express what's moving in them and get it out.  When someone is happy, instead of telling them to quiet down or saying, "That's enough, now" we could give them the space to fully feel and express the elation that's present.  If we were able to understand that all emotions are okay, and that by giving them their space while they're happening they are able to move through and out of the body, it would prevent a lot of negative acting out that's caused by denying or suppressing those emotions.

There's an indigenous tribe on the planet, the location of which I now can not remember, that sings their individual song to each baby when it's born.  The midwives, and those attending the birth, tune into the new spirit that's just come through, and sing their song to them.  As the new spirit hears its song, it feels welcome and at home.  It knows it's come to the right place.  And, as life continues, and the person gets off track or does something unacceptable, the tribe doesn't shame or punish them, they surround them with love and sing their song so that they remember who they are and reconnect to their essence.  What a wonderful thing to do.  It's such an honoring of being human and such a deep understanding of how to help someone find their way back to themselves.

Today, I am honoring the sadness that moves through me and giving it the space it needs.  I allow the tears to fall.  I let myself have it.  It is an acceptance and honoring of my humanity.  I'm grateful for it.  After it all moves through, I'll feel lighter.  And so, I sing my song.

Finding a Sense of Comfort

I'm finding my adjustment to my new life and new language in Uzes, France to be interesting and challenging in ways that were/are unexpected.  Why anything should be expected in this transition, since so much is an unknown, is a mystery.  But, the mind loves to create expectations based on past experience.  So, I just keep crashing through expectation after expectation.  And, my mind, relentless tool that it is, just keeps setting them up over and over again.

I've only been here a month, but time is such a relative thing.  This month feels like forever and no time at all.  I have to keep reminding myself that I've only been here a month when I'm not able to understand what's said to me in French, and when I'm not able to say what I want to say without struggling.  I've done pretty well for only a month.  I've also had an amazing amount of help from one kind and generous person after another, without any of whom life would have been so much more difficult.

Moving to a foreign country and immersing oneself in a new culture, language and way of life is a challenge any way you look at it.  Things are encountered that one can't possibly have prepared for or known about.  And, even in a first-world, Western-culture country such as France, the differences are many and basic and require an inordinate amount of adjustment.  But, I'm finding my way.  I'm making new friends.  I'm getting done what needs to get done.  I'm starting to feel comfortable.

When I first got here, just walking out my door to do the most basic of functions carried a certain amount of anxiety.  There was, and still is, so much to figure out.  But, bit by bit, things become familiar.  Ways of doing things are shown or figured out.  The processes of daily life reveal themselves.  Little things, like going to the Post Office, become less and less mysterious.  People speaking to me in French are starting to make sense, at least partially, with every word I hear.  Repetition is a wonderful teacher.

The telephone is still a major challenge, but I'm getting better at it.  Sometimes, I have to call a number many times and listen to the voice prompts over and over and over before they start to make sense and I can choose the right prompts to get where I need to get and do what I need to do.  I have to ask people to speak slowly and simply to help me understand.  I still need help translating things.  I am a child in this language and this culture, and I must be comfortable with that.

I am starting French conversation classes at the local Universite Populaire on March 11, after the ski holiday is over.  And, I'm hoping to find another French class so that I have at least two a week.  The focus and support of regular classes will help a lot.  Along with hearing and using French every day, plus reading it in endless instances out of utter necessity, will all push me forward to greater fluency and comfort in my new language.

I have not bought a car and am not driving yet, but that will come in its own time.  I find that my life is much slower and more simple without a car, and I get a lot more exercise because I do a lot of walking.  Endless thanks go out to my friend, Geoffrey, who drives me if I need to go somewhere farther afield; and, endless thanks also go out to my friend, Debby, who allows Geoffrey to drive her car--which we call The Tardis--while she is not here.  We call the car The Tardis--a reference to the Dr. Who TV series--for its ability to hold so much more than one might expect it to.  We've gotten amazing amounts of things into the back of the car.

This is a quiet place and I sleep much better here than I did in the U.S.  I sleep deeply and have started dreaming in a way that I wasn't previously.  I am more calm and am constantly nurtured by the beauty that surrounds me at all times.  I'm starting to feel a rhythm and a balance to life here that is very reassuring and supportive.  I am opening more and more to this place as it opens more and more to me, and I'm feeling a sense of deep peace as the days go by.

This move hasn't been easy by any stretch of the imagination, and I know I have challenges to overcome that are yet to be revealed, but it's been worth everything it took to get here.  I have no regrets for leaving and only gratitude for where I am and the life that is unfolding around me.  No matter what Life calls you to, or what the challenges that might be required to get there, know that it will be worth it.  Say "yes" and jump in.  Answer the call.    

Ode to Geoffrey, and the Basis of Trust

A friend of mine posted a quote on Facebook last week that struck me to my core.  I will repeat it here, because it deserves repeating.

"We cannot train our babies not to need us.  Whether it's the middle of the day or the middle of the night, their needs are real and valid, including the simple need for human touch.  A 'trained' baby may give up on his needs being met, but the need is still there, just not the trust."  --L.R. Knost, www.RelationshipsLoveHappiness.com.

Wow...  Such understanding and compassion, at a very deep level.  And, so far-reaching in its implication in our lives.

I was born to two young high school students who, wisely, made the decision to give me up at birth and allow me to be adopted.  I spent the first seven weeks of life alone in a crib in a home for unwed mothers.  What I remember of that time--yes, babies do remember--is being cold and confused and that the light was too bright; that there were others around, but more at a distance.  Seven weeks of my needs being met in only the most basic of ways; no loving touch or caring physical contact.

I was adopted by parents who were desperate for a child, and who wanted to raise their child "correctly."  I was their first child, and they turned to the advice and information given by Benjamin Spock in a book called "The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care."  It was a very popular book in the 1950's, and there might be some very good advice in that book, I don't know.  But, there was some advice that my parents followed that was detrimental, especially for a child such as myself, who had developed trust issues from birth.

For the first three years of my life, my mother would put me to bed and then sit with me and stroke my head until I fell asleep.  But, at three, it was decided that I had to learn to fall asleep on my own and the bedtime communion with my mother would stop...cold turkey.  So, she would put me to bed and then walk away and leave me alone to find sleep on my own.  This is what Benjamin Spock supposedly said to do in his book, according to my mother, who told me about it later.

This sudden abandonment at bedtime created confusion and anger.  I would scream for hours before tiring myself and finally falling asleep.  According to my mother, Benjamin Spock also said to leave the child alone and let them cry and that they'd get over it.  So, my parents would sit in the living room, listening to me scream, and will themselves to ignore me.  After a certain amount of days, I became trained to the new normal of being left alone at bed time.  The screaming stopped.  But, the sense of abandonment and confusion did not.  I was simply trained to realize that my needs at that time, and in that situation, were not going to be met.

We are trained from a young age to accept that many of our needs will not be met.  We're ignored and pushed aside in our own needs in order to fulfill the needs of our parents and other caretakers.  It ends up being more about what the caretaker wants than what the child wants and is trying to communicate in order to have their needs met.  And, it happens throughout our lives.  We do this to each other all the time.  We might state that we want a certain thing, or need a certain thing, and our partner or friend will say back to us, "You don't need that.  Here, have this instead."  Or, "You don't really want that, what you want is this."  Or, the actions of others often very clearly state that our needs or wants are unimportant to them.  They are so clearly focused on meeting their own needs or wants, that ours are pushed to the side, and we are forced to abandon them or to compromise them.

I have spent a large portion of my life listening to other people tell me what I want or don't want, what I need or don't need.  Sometimes I would listen or compromise, sometimes I would walk away.  But, it's difficult to ignore those with whom one is in relationship.  And, it would often take me many years to realize the depth to which I had compromised myself, my wants and my needs.  Most of our patterns are set when we are very young, and this pattern for me has perpetuated itself for long enough.

My friend, Geoffrey, who has been driving me around and helping me because I do not yet have a car of my own in my new home of Uzes, France, is outside this pattern.  I realize that one of the reasons my whole process of going through what needs to be accomplished to establish myself here and meet my needs in this new place, is that Geoffrey has never superseded my needs with his own.  He has never tried to talk me out of anything I've needed to do or to buy, or to convince me that something other than what I want would be better.  He has consistently done what he said he would do in a completely supportive and accepting manner.  He has gone out of his way to help me meet my needs.  This is a rare occurrence in my life.  His gift of selflessness in this first week of my birth into a new place and culture has helped me to feel more at home here than I normally feel anywhere.  He has made me feel accepted and respected in a way that touches me deeply.  And, I now see that a pattern of distrust and unmet needs is finally able to be dismantled and set aside.

Our lives are filled with angels, some we recognize and some we don't.  Some receive our gratitude and some we take for granted.  Some help us in ways we can see and understand, and others help us in ways that are impossible to comprehend.  But, they are there.  Geoffrey is one of my angels.  He is lifting me up in simple yet profound ways, for which I shall forever be grateful.  He is helping me into awareness and assisting me in transforming a destructive pattern that I have carried from birth.  Because of his friendship, I am forever changed for the better.  And, he is simply being who he is.  I don't think he has any conscious idea of how impactful his presence and friendship with me has been and continues to be.

We often don't realize how important it is to really show up for each other; to listen to each other, respect each other, and accept each other.  The gift of really seeing each other and supporting each other in our journeys, instead of trying to affect or overrun each other's journeys, is a gift beyond measure.  Being able to see, accept and support another in their journey and their choices, even when that journey and those choices differ from ones we would make for ourselves, is a deep lesson that is ongoing day by day.  Life has sent me an angel and teacher in this very important lesson, in my friend, Geoffrey.  And so, I find myself yet again, on my knees in gratitude.  

Here and Now

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.  

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.