New Address

I've changed my address many times, but today I changed my address in an unexpected way. The property was initially set up backwards, so the front is actually the back and vice versa. Today I turned things right side up and corrected the topsyturvy error by having the address of the property changed to reflect the reality of what is happening with the property (rather than what is "supposed" to be, but isn't). And it's a wonderfully fantastic feeling to know that no one else has ever lived at the property's address...that I will be the very first person who has ever lived at this brand new address.

Now I'm really feeling fancy.

I think what's so lovely about this journey is the parallel process of my life. It isn't just about building my own home, it's about creating my own vision, rather than renting space in someone else's vision.

It's also about forging new pathways, rather than being shuttled from point A to point B in the ruts of out-dated thinking. Everything about my life right now is about creating something that didn't previously exist, and it's scary, but it's liberating in a way that I've never experienced.

I have felt turned upside down, unable to get my bearings for a very long time, so having my property bearings corrected feels pretty great. And where I live may not be the most glamorous part of the world, but it's beautiful in its own way. 

Yep...I am very much falling in love with this weed infested canvas upon which my brave new world is being created and turned right side up.

Feeling Fancy

Something wonderful has happened this week...something that has never happened to me before...something that is so deliciously luxurious it is making me feel fabulously fancy.

I've never felt this fancy in my life.

Last night I sat at a crowded kitchen table with the man who is drafting the plans to my dream home. I sat there saying things like, "I want this..." and "No, I don't want that..." until MY dream was completely jotted down onto what had previously been the unfanciest piece of white paper ever. Yet, there it was, in multi-colored chicken scratch and engineering codes I don't understand, the vision of my very own dream home in its full two dimensional glory.

So, yeah...I'm feeling pretty fancy, today.

I've never owned my own home...ever. So, this is the first time I've ever done anything at all like this. I've created many homes, but always by adapting what already existed from someone else's rented vision, never my own.

I've finally stopped renting other people's vision!

What I'm doing right now is what I imagine all the fancy people get to do with their fancy lives every day. I, myself, have never lived the fancy life, so it doesn't even matter that it's just a tiny little home, because the square footage doesn't change this essentially brilliant and beautiful process of transforming the vision of my mind's eye into the home of my heart's creative dream.

This whole process is just deliciously fancy, and I'm going to enjoy every fancy bit and morsel along the way.

I'm glad I didn't settle for the quick-fix crapped out mobile home, or even the brand new (all boxed up) tiny mobile, because after 52 years of believing that fancy women wear swanky red dresses, it's partucularly lovely to discover that a person can still feel fancy even wearing comfy blue jean cutoffs and a tanky t.

Life After Death

One of the other trees on my property has the same kind of sproutlings as the dead tree stump I wrote about yesterday. But the sproutings are just that...tiny outcroppings that are nothing more than tiny clusters of branches that will never become a whole tree again.

The tree is dead...yet, tiny sprigs of life remain.

That's just the way life is. There are some life events that irretrievably change who we fundamentally are...life events that turn a part of our life progression into a hacked off tree stump. And while that part of our life essentially dies, the life force within remains in tact, allowing tiny sprigs to spring forth from time to time, reminding us that there is still a desire within for the tree to exist, even when the tree, itself, has died.

My mom's death is just like the dead tree stump, but the relationship itself still grows out of that irretrievable loss, just like that cluster of tiny warrior sprigs that refuse to let the essential truth of the tree cease to exist.

I love the beauty in this dichotomy between life and death...and the paradox of how life can still grow out of death and decay.

The tree stump stays...and I will create something lovely and amazing in that space to remind me that life after death does, indeed, exist.

New Growth

Escrow has closed, the deed has been recorded, and I am officially a property owner for the first time in my life. I have been pulling weeds for more than a week while I try wrapping my mind around what I've done...and also how I am going to do what I've set out to do.

The property itself is peaceful and quiet, which is helping a lot, but I still feel like I'm going to explode. I want this to all come together quickly, but that isn't an option for me, so I need to just settle in to the long haul and learn how to breathe through the anxiety.

Just breathe, and trust this process.

This isn't the first time I've had to trust the process when I couldn't see how it would all turn out, (nor is it the most expensive endeavour), but it's definitely the most challenging thing I've ever undertaken.

So I pull weeds while I wrap my mind around what I am doing.

There are a lot of weeds, but there is also a lot of dead stuff that needs to be removed...a couple of small trees that didn't make it through the Arizona heat...the rotting corpse of some poor hapless cat...and a tree stump on the far side of the property. The biggest problem is the tree stump, of course...because there are some fresh sprouts that have miraculously begun their own journey to treehood.

Now what do I do?

What do I do with this new growth fighting to survive?

When I found these warrior sprouts I cried...because I understand these sprouts as if it were my own fight for survival. And I want to encourage their survival, but can these sprouts yield a viable tree? Am I giving them false hope by letting their journey continue unimpeded?