Back to the Future

NOVEMBER 08, 2015 IN GENERAL

“Scattering pieces of me in towns all over the place. A trail of crumbs dotting the map from everywhere we've left to everywhere we go. And they don't make any pictures when I connect dots. They are random like the stars littering the sky at night.”   Brian James, Zombie Blondes

Last week on Facebook a friend was feeling a little nostalgic dropping off her old house keys as her family moved to a new home. I’ve been there, too. I’m trying to wind this effort up, hoping to at least take the final pieces out of storage by the end of the week, even if they have to go into the garage for now. The house is still in disaster mode with my landlord’s newly acquired house contents pushed to the perimeters and my boxes and bins and suitcases waiting for the furniture.

But otherwise, there is so much “flow” with this move, a strange mixture of excitement about developing my work and making a home and an ease and comfort in revisiting old routines and places. “All of life comes to me with ease, joy and glory,” per Access Consciousness.

For many years—and I know I’ve mentioned this at some point—I walked through Webster Park on Sunday mornings, sun and snow. So on this chilly 43 degree morning I had the opportunity to try it again after nine years away.  Parts of Holt Road are unrecognizable because of housing development, but the park is the park, thankfully. There is a new playground at the entrance, but Zsa Zsa and I meandered the loop along the creek, out to the lake, then up and down the hill. This was new for ZZ. She’s not a walker, but she is a trooper and gave it all she had. I ended up carrying her for about half the time, which was fine.  As I walked, snapping photos with my phone, I wondered how many times I’d photographed the same scenes in decades past on film. I’ll have to look for those images to compare. 

So beautiful, this quiet time along the creek, shushing through leaves in fresh, clear air. I missed Sunday walks in Oregon and Ohio, and now I’m back, recharging my soul for the next week—and weeks to come. 

Small Change

NOVEMBER 02, 2015 IN GENERAL

“You’ll find your fortune falling all over the town.
Make sure your umbrella is upside down.”

Lyrics to “Pennies from Heaven”

Quite awhile ago friend Chris Hughes (CUontheRoad.net) shared an article on Facebook about finding random coins—dimes and pennies usually—and the possibility that this phenomenon was spiritual or supernatural in nature. She, too, had been finding coins and wondering what was up.

At the time, my parents had just passed away, and there were lots of little “signs” from them as I went through the process of grieving and closing their estate. But over the past year as I readied the house for sale, packed things up and moved other things out, I, too, started finding coins more often. Now, my parents took saving change to a new level. I found coffee cans, Planters nut cans and jars, plastic butter containers, envelopes, and candy dishes overflowing in dresser drawers and tucked in the linen closet. I think there is still a can of pennies in a box somewhere that has to be changed out. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for me to find a few random coins lying around.

Until I would sweep a bedroom floor and return to find a penny right in the middle of it. One day I moved a box with my Hummel angels packed inside, and a dime fell off of the top of it. Coins appeared on the counter or kitchen floor. A penny fell from the UHaul truck as I unloaded it at the storage place. I know it hadn’t been there, and I don’t carry change in my pockets. 

The reason I mention this now is because things have stepped up considerably since I moved into this house—not “I’m going to be a millionaire” level, but certainly more often for a house that I’ve been cleaning almost every day. Toward the end of my stay in Ohio I started saving some of the pennies and dimes as I found them, and I’ve been collecting the really unusual finds here.

Several have appeared in the master bedroom: on the carpet, on the old mattress that I’m shoving out the door tomorrow and in my suitcase. Today, I looked over at my car’s passenger seat, which I had just cleared minutes before, and there was a shiny dime.

What prompted me to write this post was that I was unpacking some of my dishes (formerly my grandmother’s) into a cabinet last night. I thought of her, hoped that the rest of the set in other boxes made it through the move safely, and pictured serving friends future dinners on her dishes. Clink—a dime fell on the counter from between two plates as I unwrapped them. True story. I smiled and said “hello” and “thank you,” as I have been doing when I find these coins. The photos are of the some of these special gifts.

Many people are not inclined to believe in spiritual energy, or they believe that there is something scary or freaky about incidents like this. I, instead, feel a sense of comfort and encouragement. Someone, or more likely several guardians, are looking out for me, saying hello with pennies from heaven. 

The Long and Winding Road

OCTOBER 25, 2015 IN GENERAL

Some people see their paths clearly. Everything is laid out in front of them, their compasses point north, and they’re off and running. Other people—like myself—seem to have less direction or clarity or a path that is at least partially covered in vines or fog. Maybe it all feels right sometimes. Things fall into place, and people show up exactly at the time they’re needed. One contact or project or tidbit pushes you along in the Universal Flow. I’ve been there.

However, the last few years I’ve groped in the fog and hacked away with a machete. While I knew Ohio was the “right” choice I could not seem to make much headway. I felt isolated most of the time for many reasons.

Finally, though, I tuned out the desire to “make it work” and tuned into more subtle messages. I evaluated my experiences and reviewed the paths I’d taken. I went back to an old exercise of mine that asks, “What would you do if it could be anything?” and eliminated limitations, gradually putting thoughts out There about what would be ideal for me. 

I’ve learned the following:  1. what you think you want and what you’re supposed to have are not always the same things; 2. meditation is an excellent tool for filtering and calming; 3. having patience is very important; 4. focusing on lack creates lack, and focusing on abundance and blessings creates abundance and blessings; 5. it can all be frustrating and grueling, but you have to be patient; 6. and trust in a benevolent Universe/God/Spirit; 7. your gut feelings are your instincts, and if you can tune into those—as crazy as they may seem—they won’t steer you wrong; 8. patience, grasshopper, patience.

My “work” is still evolving, but my house-hunting exploits are the stuff of legends. Plan A was to purchase a house for cash and not have a mortgage payment. As soon as this was possible the market skyrocketed, greatly diminishing my choices of homes and neighborhoods. There was a cute little place near the corner on Jewel St. at Norton, however, that caught my eye in spite of there being only one exterior photo of the property. The neighborhood was marginal with a church directly across the street, but a suspicious looking multi-family across Norton that seemed to have cars generally pulling up and leaving.  

When realtor Tim opened the door, I fell in love with the house. It was everything I’d imagined: old style tiles, hardwoods, a sunroom, glass front kitchen cabinets, an attached garage, charm, reasonably priced. But would I feel safe in the neighborhood? Could I take Zsa Zsa for a walk? Did I want to zip my car in the garage and live inside looking out? There had been a shooting down the street.  I decided to make an offer anyway because it was such a nice house in good condition. Ahh, but no-go. The man told Tim that he was taking it off the market to rent to a friend of his. I wasn’t happy, but “wasn’t meant to be” kept going through my head.  

Subsequent houses went from bad to worse, including a house that was imploding because it had been built on a spring (or cave or something) and a mobile home 20 miles from the city with a ceiling that was buckling. I’d tried to wrap my head around a possible deal for a house on the water, but couldn’t get it to feel comfortable. A talk with one of my friends finally convinced me to rent instead by reminding me of the freedom I had as a tenant in Oregon and reiterating that repairs on these houses were imminent, as were Rochester’s notoriously high taxes. Oh, yes. It was coming back to me from owning my house years ago. 

My friends and I switched gears to find suitable rental properties: at least off-street parking, two bedrooms if possible, and, of course, Zsa Zsa friendly. We cruised by a few possibilities; I visited a couple of city lofts. I was making appointments and staying in my friends’ camper next to their house with my belongings in storage.  

One Sunday I simply drove around thinking, “There has to be SOMEthing. What am I missing?” which took me along the bay. I spotted one “For Rent” sign in front of a two-car garage and took down the number. When I called the next day, the landlord and I seemed to connect right away. The house was a funky, artsy-craftsy two-bedroom with the garage.  And it was right on the water. In fact, it had everything I’d asked for from the Universe at the beginning of this whole process.  BAM, Emeril style.

I imagine myself as the princess kissing frogs to get to the prince, (need I mention the trust and patience involved?) but am excited to be in a place that feels kind of like home even with my furniture in storage. I couldn’t have gotten here without help from my friends Diane & Bill, Rich, Jodi, Carol and Larry—sages, cheerleaders, voices of reason, sounding boards. I am so, so grateful for the advice, suggestions and patience as I toddled through this particular stretch.

 I’ve spent the entire day here at the house just reading, unpacking, cleaning, putting a slipcover on a chair, looking at paint swatches. Neighbor Dave mowed my little back yard. The path continues, and so will I. The fog has cleared. Tonight the moon is shining on the still water. 

Going, going ...

AUGUST 16, 2015 IN GENERAL

Well, if I felt like a “man without a country” before, it’s practically a reality today. On Friday my brother came down from Michigan to sign closing papers on my parents’ (our) house. I’ll be living here for the next weeks as I narrow my new home options down, but nearly everything has been packed, donated, given away or thrown away. The remainder is in limbo, waiting in near-empty cupboards and a couple of closets.  

I am also in limbo to an extent, though I pack and move boxes and furniture to the basement or storage room every day in order to feel like I’m moving forward. The constant sorting and filtering and reliving memories during this year have worn on me—not that I would regret or trade the experience of the past five years. While I feel the heaviness of loss and perplexity of the future on any given day, the trial by fire is but smoldering now as I finish with my parents’ lives and refocus on my own and the possibilities that come with a clean slate.

As a Capricorn, I like security. I’ve lived on the edge before. Secure is better. But not feeling secure is a lesson in growth. And trust. 

I set aside time to meditate every day, to clear my head and listen to any inner or outer voice that cares to offer direction. After all that’s happened I’m confident that angels maintain a vigilant watch on goings-on around me and give me some guidance. I had expected to stay for another year or so and save a bit of money working on one or two of the several job offers that appeared earlier this year. But, in spite of the fact that four different entities approached ME, none of them have materialized into actual work. Instead, they’ve vaporized—a clear sign that I am to move on.

The newspaper “eliminated” my part-time position (along with others’) at the end of May just two days before the State of Ohio said they would be in a hold pattern on a project for another 12 months-- translation: no funding for making my part-time County job full-time for at least a year. While this income decrease was distressing, it was the Universe’s way of pushing me to pack it in and pack it up. I told the buyers for this house to go ahead and begin the paperwork. We were supposed to sign toward the end of the month. They decided to go ahead and get it done last week.

Now what?

I have homes “saved” on various sites for Newport, Oregon, and Buffalo and Rochester. The more I talk about New York winters, the less enthusiastic I am to get there. I love the Oregon coast all year round and could probably get back into the photo/writing/wine thing without too much trouble. On the negative side, I missed the east while I was out there—the history, my friends, the architecture, the proximity to family. I currently don’t have work lined up in Rochester, however, so that’s unsettling (the security thing.) It’s a much bigger place, though, with a year-round economy, so there are more opportunities available. 

I went through the final bins in the garage yesterday and found a notebook/journal that I kept while going through my divorce. It was painful to read. I was hurt and confused and wanted so badly to make things better, to be the wife I was “supposed” to be. But as I read I saw myself progressing through that experience, that pain, that insecurity and coming to the other side, and I recognized my time here as somewhat similar: working through the range of emotions, new doors opening as others close, feeling stronger with a bit of time, and feeling the Universe push me to a new level in my life.

A few days ago a Rochester friend posted a “girl drink” recipe on Facebook, and my first thought and comment on it was “It looks perfect for chick flick night!” As I fixed Sunday breakfast this morning, I thought what fun it will be to have friends over for Sunday brunch, maybe once a month. At Dollar General picking up some plastic bags, I added a couple of little hanging votives from a sale shelf to my basket for my new porch. Or patio. Or garden. This is exciting.

I’m moving on, and my only security now is the knowledge that the Universe will put me in the right house in the right place and show me the right opportunities for the next leg of my journey. More to come. 

(RE: the photos, one day at the Hill, while trying to take a quick nap, I looked up at a skylight and thought about it as a frame for fleeting abstract paintings, little snippets of clouds and sky dancing, twisting, disappearing.)