Coming Home

The other day, after meeting with an advisor of the spiritual nature, I came home, mind anxious, poised for change.  It all started out so innocently, a box moved here, a shirt folded there, then suddenly, I am ripping out cords from the back of my stereo, throwing out old papers and momentoes, and dragging furniture with the attentiveness of a dog trying to rip the siding off of a couch.

A spirit moved me, and it was my own.  

It is funny how things change when you take things out of the equation and equally when you put them in.  For a long time, I literally took myself out of the equation of life, living through others by living their lives, attaining their dreams, and attending to their needs.  I lived like a floating spirit desperately trying to find home but knocking at the wrong door, trying keys into locks that did not fit, seeking sustainance from things that could not possibly feed me. 

 With those things, those people gone from my life, it made me re-evaluate this hollow box that moaned from the wind lashing through it, lonely, desolate, empty.  A year of living in a fourth floor tower where I looked out at life passing by during the day and lay crying on a futon every night led to a change in the equation and a shift in thinking: Why live like this?

The day I moved away from the studio that signified the ending of a very dear relationship, marked the removal of a space in the equation and put into its place a variable.  This variable has been the formation of a life that is serving me because it is filled with the colors, sights and smells that I once never knew how to decipher until recently.  Whereas before, it was a single meal served over and over again, I landed at the buffet of life and am relishing the bounty that is choice.  The realization that for my whole life I have been shackled to the expectations and beliefs of others  led way to let me try to find my own way, my own beliefs.

So, with all of this, the major demolition in my space. The equation and its parts.  The cords and wires torn off were to a tower of electronics wire together by a person who I loved, still love, but do not love in the same way anymore.  This column of wires connecting different components together were not connecting me to understanding how they all worked together, and again, it represented something that was not my own creation and did not represent something that was serving me; -it was a disconnect in the truest sense;- just an effigy to what someone else thought would be good for me.  With all appreciation towards the person, the effort, and the product, I said a little goodbye prayer and took it from my room, put it in a pile near the outside door, waiting for it to be put out for someone else to decide to utilize. With a couple of hours and many shifts of furniture and feeling the deliciousness of new space, I sat, witnessing a most apparent transformation.

One of the most powerful aspects of my visit to this spiritual advisor was when in a meditative state, she rang a bell- clear and sweet,- inviting.  I started to cry without reason, -uncontrollably.  She asked me why I was crying and I told her that I felt like I felt I needed to go home, wherever that was. Later in our talk afterwards she related to me that the ringing of the bell was part of a ritual to call the spirits to the person the bell was being rung for.  My spirit was coming home, and this time it was met by the owner of its home. Me.