Transition

Life is a good teacher and a good friend.  Things are always in transition, if we could only realize it.  Nothing ever sums itself up in the way that we like to dream about.  The off-center, in-between state is an ideal situation, a situation in which we don't get caught and we can open our hearts and minds beyond limit. It's  very tender, non-aggressive, open-ended state of affairs.

-Pema Chodron

Everything is in the air right now.  It is strange, but very familiar at the same time, to not feel like the ground is really beneath me right now.  At the same time though I feel more grounded this time than I have in previous instances of off-balance.  I'm  not in panic mode and so far I seem to be taking this all in stride.  

In a couple of weeks I will move in with my aunt.  This should be a new experience and it will be a quiet one.  My aunt lives at the beginning of nowhere--the outer edge of suburban bay area and the beginning of what has always seemed to me to be endless flat grass and horse land.  It's nice out there.  The air is different and it's quiet.  She has horses, chickens, peacocks, pigeons and a goat.  Big change from my spider infested, urban Berkeley basement room.  This move will be temporary.  One to three months I'm imagining.  And then?  Then I will find myself my own little apartment in the bay area again.  Or that's the plan at least.  

My commute will be murderous.  My gas budget will sky rocket.  Nevertheless, this will offer me a reprieve from this sudden jolt of "what the hell is going on with my life" that has poured down on me.  After a year of straightening everything out and deciding to take one big risk and then watching the prospect of that leap of faith vanish before me in an instant I'm left with this unresolved, unplanned emptiness.  Needless to say, without going into too much detail, my aunt's place was a jumping board for a plan that fell apart.  Now, I have all these different paths open to me and I have to make some choices--or not.  Likely I'll just mozy into this timidly and tentatively stick my toes into different options until I feel comfortable with something.  Still, not knowing what the next 5 months look like is unsettling.

 

The quote above was a gift to me and a reminder to not panic.  It's OK that I have no idea what is happening or how it will work out.  I find comfort in it and by some form of transference I find comfort in my own predicament.