I know someone who’s moving right now. It’s a long way away where they’re going.
And it’s been a long process.
The idea appeared months ago. This was a way for my friend to be closer to family.
And she picked a date.
She started picking out what she’d bring. And she sold some things.
She found a mover. And a piano mover.
She had to get some things fixed before leaving town, so she did that too.
And along the way she had to ask for help, bringing in a couple friends to keep everything organized. These friends helped with the tough decisions. What to do with that beautiful, custom-made couch that was too big for her new place? What about that large painting? Keep this, get rid of that?
They made steady progress, and it took weeks and weeks.
Eventually it got to be too much. Mistakes happened, people were late.
When the moving truck showed up it couldn’t even fit on her short block.
I actually checked in with her that day, and found her crying.
It was a sound I’d never heard from her, it sounded like a song. Her tears and moans sounded like a song called “I’m so overwhelmed.”
The music of that song was fear, more fear than her consciousness could even keep pace with. She was especially upset that the movers might charge her extra for parking farther away.
“I’ve just been melting down,” she told me, “I’m so tired, and there are still things to pack!”
One of her worker bee friends came in, right then. He offered to run a couple last-minute errands. She seemed to focus a little, “okay, then I’ll box up these last kitchen things, and…”
What a day. The sound of movers stretching packing tape ripped through the house all afternoon, with the sound of dollies rolling through, and steady footsteps on each floor. Outside it was a beautiful day, in fact, crisp and cool under cloudless skies.
My heart went out to this friend, but I knew she’d feel better just as soon as her hard feelings surfaced and passed. This is the way life teaches us, through vivid, sometimes grueling experiences.
At one point I saw a wooden sculpture in a corner of her ground floor under a layer of dust.
It was a keepsake from her first honeymoon, to the husband with whom she had her first child.
This was the child, now grown, that motivated this move. She was moving to be closer to his family.
The marriage to his father had long since ended, but I bet that wooden sculpture carried lots of old feelings, for a long time.
But now it stood quietly in the corner, strangely beautiful. Coming from a different era of her life, it felt mysterious, like it had a world of stories it could tell.
But that was all in the past.
After the hard feelings, after the tears, after the worst, most heart-rending times, there’s something brand new. It’s worth having. It’s life itself. Choose Radical Aliveness and let the past and all those echoes go!
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