They say when it comes to change to start right now, don’t wait, change something- even if it’s just one small thing.
I’ve been thinking about this advice as I sit on a red couch in a yellow room surveying an almost empty house. This will all be gone come Monday, and, come Monday night, so will we; ending this chapter in Alaska to go write a new book in Kauai.
Change in the extreme.
It’s taken acres of hard to get to this space; I knew I wasn’t entirely satisfied with life a couple years back, but unlocking myself from the strong links in the chain of my life- the house, the private practice, the familiarity of life in Alaska, a steady income, stability- seemed overwhelming and almost impossible.
Where would I even begin to change things? Somehow I found my way.
The first thing that changed was my perspective; I lost my brother and the knowledge that life is precious, finite, and meant to be lived NOW, not later, became a living reality I integrated into my heart and deepest being.
Then, because life is briefly sweet, my husband and I made the decision to put our intentions out into the world that we were moving in one year’s time to Hawaii.
Last summer I began donating and clearing, piece by piece, bit by bit; we took the time to say goodbye to the state in style, road tripping on up and down the highways of Alaska camping by pristine waterfalls and rushing rivers and misty mountains, as my heart said Thank you, I know it’s okay to let go with utter gratitude for all the gifts of this state.
I’ve had an endless list I’ve been tracking since September- what needs to get done this week and this month, what can wait until next; the final items are almost ready to be checked.
December was for breaking the news to my clients and coming up with care plans and transition plans, so everybody was taken care of when I closed practice at the end of June.
The spring came, and we became work horses, heads down, nose to the ground; list home, show home, sell home, clear home, close practice, say goodbyes.
Now we are down to 2 days. A bit more cleaning to do. Some packing. A plane ride on the horizon.
And as I sit here on my red couch in my almost empty room, I can say that after going through all the steps that got me from thinking about change to living the change, that I have lived the truth that our dreams are not impossible, if we believe in them and are prepared to do the work and stay committed to their completion.
I think often we don’t leap, because we don’t know that it will work out, and we don’t know what is waiting on the other side. And because a leap requires sacrifice. And sacrifice can be hard.
But as I survey the almost empty space that felt impossible to empty, all I have is a sense of efficacy; acres of new space; a sense of alignment with the deepest truths of my heart. And a hibiscus breathed breeze that is no longer distant, but a handful of days away.
Telling me how close I am to Home.