Zen and the Art of Packing Every Piece of Crap You Own ( part one)

Waiting sucks.

As much as I tell myself it is a spiritual exercise-- and I honestly believe that it is-- that doesn't make it any easier. 

I have returned to this blog after a long hiatus.  I was working through some personal issues and realized, that the more time I spent on this blog, the less time I spent on my novel writing,

I was waiting; my life was stuck in second gear. I tried to make changes, but circumstances never lined up. But now, thank God, things are moving now, and I am convinced it had unfolded in God's timing.

In short, I am in a new city.

At 43.

Starting over.

And I couldn't be happier.

 I am now in beautiful Wilmington, NC, on the coast. Being from the mountains, I love the novelty of being able to go to the beach every weekend.

Packing up all my things has made me realize how I need to take stock--what to take and what to leave behind. Not just stuff, but thoughts, ideas, misconceptions. I need to embrace truth and become introspective, letting the things a out myself that I don't like of that are unhealthy peel away and dissolve behind me.

I have learned that moving and packing is a metaphor for pretty much anything you want it to be a metaphor for... 

I started my packing organized, I was not going to carry any unnecessary thing with me, I was going to pack like a squirrel on Adderall,  I was going to have a completely clean slate. 

Then I got bronchitis, And a sinus infection.

That  organization soon turned into "dump everything into a box and go." After the movers had taken the big stuff, I had to stay behind for another week because I had missed too much of my work while I was sick, and the leisurely two-week notice I was working out ended up being one week of sick leave.

The movers took my furniture down almost a week before I left, so I was in my apartment with only the bare necessities.  I slept on the floor on a yoga mat. Although my back ached, it reminded me of a Maya Angelou quote I have hanging in my apartment: " We need much less than we think we need."

 I found out how much less when I tried to cram everything remaining I into my small Toyota and join the rest of my belongings on the coast. There was only enough room for me to safely see out the windows and for me to sit down.  I felt like I was strapped into Apollo 11, surrounded by things that promised adventure, but having very little legroom, 

Time to blast off.

Time to rediscover myself.

Time to find a new shore and a new world.

Time for a new adventure..