new trees, new porch (bigger),
new steps from bed to bathroom.
I haven’t counted them yet, too busy holding on to the old rooms; the new count reminds me of what I’ve done before I even have begun.
I look back at the last few years living on my own without roommates. Not allowing the Uhaul moving someone else in and just living with me. When I first moved in, I was so far out of my comfort zone; I wondered what I had done. I never fathomed I could do it, live and be self sustained completely on my own. Not sure why because when I look back on my life, I have always been just that. Not sure why since most of my college living was in my own single. (One room, of course I'll keep it for myself!). I grew to enjoy the quiet, grew to know my steps in the dark, enjoyed my naked form flowing around the corners, and bringing only the things and people I wanted in my home. My soul needs space to breathe away from stimulus of others. I need solitude! And solitude was exactly what I was looking to find. In my own apartment, I was able to turn alone and lonely into quiet reverence for me. I discovered the quiet mind. I embraced solitude.
Now, here I am finalizing my goodbye to my own apartment and moving in with people again. The same old fear think is back, what have I done? I’ve done all of this before, but here I breathe gingerly breeching my new comfort zone of preferring to be alone. I’ve added up the parts of me and summed up the formula, knowing its time to take solitude back to the co-operative living. I left it to avoid being swayed by that fear of alone, I come back again to test what I have known, that my instincts are mine and who I am, I own.
My internal dialogue bounces like a coil to see me stretching my comfort zone AGAIN with something I have done before. My cancerian form dictates my home is a sensitive subject, even though I have slept in traveled places, lived in various homes, huddled on a stolen train in the middle of the night, home base is where I work out my understandings.
My work places me in other people’s stories. The fear of being alone is such a common story, most make decisions solely on this criteria then any other. I never want to make a decision or guide myself for a fear. It’s a beguiling fear too, insidiously convinces us that something is better then being with one self. Most breed it in their relationships, going from one to another or staying while constantly complaining. Harp its love when even they can see inevitably the delusion will play out.
Now, here I am on the opposite side of spectrum, hesitant to give up my alone. The beautiful thing about my new place is I made sure I had ample space amongst others. Two rooms, not just one. This beautiful half kitchen that will be my studio and a bedroom that will hold this lover’s bed. Mmmm.
All I need to do now is get things organized. I’ve stripped down to the bare necessities. In the studio are my desk, art supplies, cameras, stereo and book shelves. Here I tack up all my favorite authors and photographers and poets against the cabinets; letting the eastern light kiss them for me. In the bedroom I have my bed, dresser, book shelves, and guitar. Though I do need to buy a new chair, smaller then my old one to hold my bag when I come home. Everything else waits in storage or has been given away.
I moved for both necessity and convenience. It’s time for the student to begin to learn again, though I never really stopped. My being is calling me to focus on the craft again. I need the pious living of simplicity: Two rooms and me. I need the busy chatter below to comfort the analytical side as well, “Is this too much alone?” I need the comfort of someone pushing me to go out and play. I need to see solitude play out in a crowded space. My cancerian self understands this.
I admit though, I prefer to live with just one other, my love. I’d rather negotiate space like this then a crowded place I live, but we will get there. For now, the teacher becomes the student once again and begins her lessons trying to let this life unfurl in all of its beauty. Tomorrow I count my new steps from bed to bathroom in the darkness of night. I slip off my shirt and write at my beautiful desk and let the light from the two walls of windows warm my skin.