It's 6:41 am. I'm awake. No, I'm not one of those good-people-of-the-world who exercises early. Or to make breakfast for someone. I'm not up because of my insane urge to create. Nope.
Truth is, I can't get to sleep. I have slept poorly for three days now, but I'm strangely ok with it. It is probably all the changes I've been going through.
changes? me? naaaaaaaaw.
Ah, but yes, sweet dearies. Changes. Surprise.
Well, first off, I am moving to Atlanta. It's only an hour and a half away, but it is away from where I live now.
I would like to write about moving now. Moving is a funny luxury we humans have. (Well, I guess a lot of other animals have it too... you know, the whole migration thing.)
ANYWAY. Moving is annoying. Not the to and from, but just all the damn boxes and organizing and taping and labeling and the "I don't know what that is in my fridge, but I don't think it's edible and so I must deal with it" moments of cleaning your old place.
You deal with telling people, seeing their reactions. You have to call people. You have to, God forbid, answer your phone. You have to be responsible and ask for help moving heavy stuff.
A few weeks ago, when I decided to move, I made a HUGE mountain of it. HUGE. In my own head. I piled filing taxes and loss of relationship right on top of that HUGE mountain so that it was, well, the HUGEST BIGGEST DAMNED MOUNTAIN you ever saw.
And so I slept a lot. I would sleep in just so I didn't have to trek to the mountain that day.
You know someone once told me my middle name means small beautiful girl on a big mountain. No seriously. It is a japanese name of humility, apparently. So mountains are my thing, humility I'm still working on.
Did I mention I had bronchitis and a cracked rib when I decided to move? no? Yeah. So the mountain wasn't only high, but I couldn't actually breath the air around it also.
Tell me if the mountain thing is getting old.
But I digress. About two weeks or so ago, I woke up stronger. I decided that I needed to slow down. here I was worrying my pants off about all the little details of moving. But I was missing the moment, and I knew it.
I read a quote off of a french Canadian photographers website once. It said " wait for the thing that you are trying to understand to acknowledge your presence" .
My move, it can be said, was being bullied around by yours truly. So I stopped. I waited to see when it would acknowledge me. And it did. That day even.
Moving allows you to see a place and your experience in it with open eyes. Because you are leaving (if you are not running) you must unavoidably look at it. You are about to transition, and you have many choices of HOW to transition.
I choose to be grateful to this place, Chattanooga. It was my host when I needed one, it was my confidant, my jungle, my place of incubation. I birthed here in some ways. I made stupid decision, buried myself, dug myself out, laughed my bloody eyes out and found a sense of true irony here.
So my personal moving mountain was silenced and acknowledged by the real mountains here, around Chattanooga.
My friend Meg told me about a month ago that I will think the Universe is really funny when I decide to leave. I kind of looked at her awkwardly, loved her, then forgot about it.
I said it once, I'll say it again, that woman is always right.
The Universe is like some prankster or something. For no reason whatsoever, I decided to paint enormous flowers last week. Just to get lost in them, just to let go a bit. I had a ton to do, but I decided to trust that it would get done in some way or another, and so I just let myself paint something fairly foreign to me.
What happened next I still don't believe in some ways. After about 4 days of painting these, big, weird flowers, I sent a photo to the gallery in Charleston. I asked them if it was too weird for them. While I waited for a response, I showed it to a few painter friends here, including Meg. Usually when I show something to her, she loves it. But this painting turned her into a slight lunatic. She ordered me to stick it in her car, and up the mountain (the real one) we drove, to show her friend whom she knew would understand it. And then another friend. There is something about being in a group that understands exactly where you are and whats going on that is irreplaceable.
After an afternoon of the Meg and Mia Road Show, I was fully confident that this thing that I loved to do was legitimate. You see, that painting was me experiencing what I was painting. No photos. No having to prove anything. Just experience, pure, raw, wonderful. I have a rare capacity to focus, I think .
And then at the end of the day, I get an email from the gallery saying "love it. send it. we think we have a buyer". Folks, the thing is dripping wet at this point. If that's not a sign to paint from your heart, I don't know what is.
And that is probably my last painting I actually paint in Chattanooga. I think. Well maybe.
So the universe is sending me off in style.
But wait, there's more.
The universe has also allowed me to see people whom I have known here very, very different, and only now. People I have had many emotions about are being seen to me in a new light. People whom I never saw before are stepping into my light. It's all so ironic. I hate you for singing that song, Alanis.
Ok, so I sound wishy-washy a bit. Can't get TOO personal in the blogisphere ya know.
I guess just a word on moving. We are always moving. We move from one place to the next every day. And the Universe (or whatever you want to call it) is always presenting opportunities for us to see it, to experience it.