Leaving Behind the Replaceables

I’m moving to the Asheville, North Carolina area — one of Mother Earth’s lovely green laps of heaven.  Hilly and lush and rolling and easy on the heart and the mind.  That’s what I’ve heard about Asheville.

Have I been there?  (This part is risky, so hang on to your hat.)

No.  (Whoa, really??)

Really.  I sent my husband there.  I’ve felt Asheville long distance (does this count?).  I’ve been near it.  I’ve talked to an Astro-Cartographer (Rania James in London —  rania@gis.net — the best astrologer and astro-cartographer around) about my chart in this neck of the woods.  (It’s good. Way better than Saratoga, NY where I might as well jump off the Falls and get it over with!).

And yes, I’ve talked to people who live in Asheville.  Some of them moved from California like me and they say it’s a little mecca, a shining spot in the Universe.  They LOVE it there.  I’ve spent hours online looking at photos and reading blogs and websites about Asheville.  My dear friend Gary has been there.  And my friends Toni and Diane.

But, alas,  I have not had my actual feet in the soil.  I feel as if I have, and therein lies the beauty of Asheville.  This is how people feel about Asheville, or so I’ve heard.  I seem to be connected with this place I’ve never seen.

Either I’m really lucky to have the innate connection, the intuition, the trust,  the ability to see where I’m not at the moment but will be soon —  or perhaps I’m totally delusional…  We shall see. My friends tell me that one of my enduring qualities is that I land on my feet.  Let’s hope they are right this time!

As a family, we’re taking our most “cut-down-to-size” basic belongings, the meaningful things —  and leaving behind what can be replaced or upgraded.

We’re essentially wiping the slate clean — emotionally, mentally, physically starting over.  We’re moving into unknown territory with next to nothing, and yet everything important is in tow and in tact.

I need a garden and rain.  Weather.  More green.  Open spaces and elbow room.  Real blue skies.  More birds. Time in a hammock.  More moments of writing and singing.  Maybe I’ll even bake bread again.   I’ll still make homemade soup, no matter where I am.

Meanwhile, ridding ourselves of earthly possessions and the accompanying unconciousness  is a bit challenging.  I opened a closet this morning and said to myself, ” Geez, what were we thinking here?”  Garage sales, good-byes to friends, and pauses to reflect — these are my days now.  The countdown has begun.

I’d rather go to a coffee shop every day, loiter and write poetry over a latte.  Really, I would.  In my past, I’ve done that.  It was on the way to work, and I’d leave 45 minutes early just to be able to stop by my favorite coffee shop to sit and watch people, write and daydream.  My daughter discovered old  poetry books of mine as we packed.

We sat down and talked about those poetry writing days in the Rose Cafe in Venice, CA.  We talked about my other marriages.  Especially the one with her father, whom she met once when she was 3 weeks old, and not since.  To have your child(ren) discover who you were before they came into the world is no less than a fabulous conversation!

Ah, and then there are the animals I’ll be leaving.

The screeching wild parrots (my personal favorite) that I hear most on Sunday mornings.  They remind me that I am a free  — and live out loud — being.  And the stray black cat that dines nightly in our laundry room after hours will have to find a new kitty restaurant.  I worry about him a little.  But he found me, so surely he can find a new way to fill his belly.

So I’m off for a bit of sleep before the big GARGAGE sale weekend.  Rest easy, everyone.  Be good to yourselves.  Fly strong and be free.  Live in a place that makes your heart sing and pass it on.

Terri