Being on the trail feels really good this morning. After the weekend of getting up early each morning to prepare for a tag sale, both Nora and I are eager to reconnect with the smell and sounds and feel of the forest waking up. The sound of acorns banging though tree branches reminds me of the boom of the black chestnuts encased in their bright green coats falling from the great heights of the old trees in my back yard and ceremoniously bouncing with force off of the shed roof all weekend. I realize that the tipping point to full on enthusiasm for packing up and moving on will be forever tied to this sound.
Shedding the lingering energy of memories that no longer serve along with stuff that there is no room for where I am going, the path to my new home is now less cluttered. Now there is room for the joy of finally beginning to experience synchronicity and magic that is in front of me as I prepare for this move.
For instance, I am moving from a blue house to a blue house. This is no small thing.
I think it began seven years ago when just months after my divorce, when I bought the blue car. A year later I painted my house a gorgeous shade of blue, and didn’t even notice the match until the car was sitting in the garage of the newly painted house.
Likewise, it didn’t register that the first house I fell in love in the search for a new home this spring, just seven months after Nora entering my life, was blue. Or that, when out looking again after losing that place, the next house I would fall in love with was also painted blue. And since that one wasn’t available either, I still had to keep looking. Ben was with me for the last round of visits, just a week after his twenty-first birthday, and when we stepped out of the car into the driveway of what he refers to now as ‘the blue house’ we both knew it was home.
It’s not that I was seeing lots of blue houses and happened to just fall in love with just these few. No, these were the only blue houses in all I was shown. It’s as if one of those walnuts or acorns has actually bounced off my head and finally woken me up to the significance of this fact. It’s as if this coloring of my world blue is a reminder that like this world of earth, when inside I am still connected to outside and when outside, I can always find inside. It’s as if I have been led to paint the very path I am to continue following, in a way that leaves little doubt that this is the right track.
I will be closing on this new home just seven weeks after making my offer. It is a long seven weeks, each step a gauntlet that holds the potential for the smallest technicality being a reason for the process to fall apart. There are three families and three inspections and three appraisals and three closings that will all miraculously happen at the same time. That we are closer to the end than the beginning in the process of moving through these gauntlets, interdependent and committed to each others success, is inspiring!
I also wonder at the significance of holding my tag sale on the very day that I would have been celebrating my twenty-eighth wedding anniversary. As if, to the day, this cycle of my life would end with finally letting go…
These cycles of seven seem to keep coming up for me. Unlike conventional numerology that would tell me that a typical life cycle is nine years, most major events in my life have followed seven year cycles. Yes, it is faster than nine years, and it seems to be my rhythm. What makes me think I can hurry any of this up is the question.
Numerology also tells me that I am in a cycle of ‘5’ right now (my birthday + this year…4+3+2+0+1+4=14, 1+4=5). Cycle of 5 carries the energy of adventure, luck, new love, and spontaneity! I am moving to 27 Ireland Street from 22 Eames Ave. 27-22=’5’….or…..2+7=9, 2+2=4, 9-4=’5′. Is this synchronicity a coincidence? I don’t think so.
The last visit to the new house was a brilliant sunny day.
And I felt the magic of being sheltered here by the blue sky sitting on the doorstep of the blue house I will soon call home.