Moving, Moved

 

Moving, Moved

 

Sitting in the doorway of my new home.

Looking at my back green space. Feeling the breeze, hearing the birds chirping.

Traffic droning in the distance. My lover playing rhythmic guitar, his voice singing out calmly.

Serenating the atmosphere.

 

In moves a thought:

 

Prove it. Prove you can do it.

 

Calmly I respond, with love and curiosity:

I want to prove I can do it. To myself mostly, I guess. Yes, to myself. Not to the world.

Nor to him or her or even them. Just to myself. I can do it.

 

What is, IT, you ask?

 

Well, IT, today, is writing something compelling. From the heart.

Devouring the space inside of my belly, these sentiments need flow out onto paper, through my fingertips. Typed up onto the word document I opened only moments ago.

 

What message do I have for me, for you, for us all?

What observations have I made about me, you, us, that could enlighten, lighten, ease, illuminate, or just comfort, give a little hope?

 

I will start with my own experience as of late. Moving, arranging a new home, again, adjusting to new walls, sounds, neighbors. Sleeping in a new room, the regular and mundane of the previous house transfer to the new, as they follow my human around.

Things like cooking breakfast, making coffee, shitting. Dressing, dancing, and meditating.

 

I am the core, the center, the balance. I am the rootedness; I am the magnet. I am the home.

 

I am the vortex too sometimes.

 

Point is, it’s not the house that I live in, or the walls that surround me, that define my home. It is in my body that I reside. My body is my temple, after all.

 

I honor my body by giving myself what I need. I create balance and choose peace for my temple.

No matter where I rest my head at night.