since I moved into my room, I have had two different beds in five different places. I think I have settled on the final resting place... maybe. The last position gave me the best view out the widows, surrounded by trees and sky. Yet this one allows the dawn to tickle my toes and I am blanketed in light by the time I pull myself out of dreams. What a wonderful dilemma to be having.
This new space is doing wonders. I feel so much of my life and energy flowing back to me. The connection that I discovered in South Dakota and established in Wisconsin is returning. The pressing rush of the east coast has been pushing my limits and I have been feeling as though I am slowly washing away in its mad rush. The annual treks to Wisconsin were my attempts to cling to and restore my sacred reserve of energy, my compromise for subjecting myself to an environment that constantly disrupts my internal balance.
This move and this new retreat could not have come at a better time. My soul was desperately scrambling against the fact that Wisconsin was not going to happen this year and battling against the realization that I would have to face the holiday bustle without the rejuvenated support of the time spent in a place where I can still hear the trees whisper to me, where the wind speaks softly in my ears, and the sun glows brighter in the crisp air. Just as spiritual desperation was starting to set in, I found that I can purely exist in this space, I can simply be me here with trees tickling the day with leaves, still-green grasses twitching in the wind, everything reminding me that it is safe to breath again.