The Adventure of Changing Place
An Inner and Outer Journey
Mirroring what we did this time last year, our house is once again being put up for sale. Last year, the market here in Austin was very slow and it was going through price correction. And then there was the election. The uncertainty of what the future would hold left a lot of buyers waiting. Only after the election, have houses started to move again. The real estate agent assures me that things are changing for the better, and 2025 should be an easier time to sell a home here, albeit with a price reduction.
The silver lining in this protracted house sale is that I began to see the inner aspects to the great moving quest. Big events in life don’t happen without an interior story, shaped by dreams, desires and metaphor.
Rooting is not my strong suit. My Nomadic spirit resembles that of an old cat, looking for just the right patch of sun in which to warm her old bones. In whatever life I have left, this old cat wants to settle near forest trails and water, to walk and wonder her way into growing old.
This, may be the last great outward journey – Doing an interstate move at this stage of life presents some challenges and some risks. When we accept the call to adventure, there are no guarantees that those risks will be outweighed by the rewards. And, I’m very clear that to continue to live the status-quo and not make this move feels like getting stuck in the wasteland.
In these past weeks and months I’ve journaled, mused, and contemplated the big adventure I’m undertaking. Stringing words and feelings together on the page each day eventually revealed a poem that best captures the feeling tone of what it’s to cross a wilderness to live a life that holds the potential of greater purpose. It’s never just about the outer journey, it’s about feeling our way through the dark in order to step into a new and authentic way of being in the world. This move is my calling to purpose.
the calling is not so much to place
as it is to purpose
the siren sound
of second chances and new beginnings
the longing for home
​a​n essence and core of heart
beating slowly, gently,
the rhythms of change.
it’s the belonging
to something or someone
that trips me up,
forgetting the home within Soul
where petals of ideals
fall so lightly,
like snow on a clear​, dark​, night.
ancient memories
​and y​et to be lived
potential.
a womb of intent
where I’ve given birth​ in ​sleep
a thousand times,
wide awake now
grappling with prolonged
and arduous labor
giving life to the poetry
of humility and grace.
how have I not been humbled before
by such riches
​a​s to give myself to the service of other​s?
emergence from
the too-precious dregs of past
turned wild and old
tangled by wind
leathered by the sun
eyes blazing with the rage
of injustice
and the resolve of equality,
this is the home
I’ve been seeking.
the calling is to the still, silent​, place
the empty stage upon which
to dance a purpose,
​​whispered to me
on forest trails,
​at the edges
of rushing waters,
singing ongoing hymns
of praise and thanksgiving.
being led out of the wasteland
fasting forty days and forty nights
thirst and hunger take their toll,
educating me to​ wishes and wants.
the breaking open of this hear​t​
to this place and purpose.
I’ve been invited
once again
and accept the call
to make the trek
guided by the stars
of change.
Does poetry play a part in your writing or reading life? Do you find poetry sometimes captures the emotion of an inner or outer quest that cannot be tamed by prose?
Please share your thoughts with me and let’s have a conversation.
To a few of my poetic tribe, I hope you’ll add your thoughts:
, , , , and (the woman who paints her poetry onto canvas). Gratitude to , , Susan Wittig Albert of and.
Stephanie, I like your play with line length here. Beautiful on the page. Artifactual. Thank you.
Beautiful. I'm getting ready to sell too. Sometimes I feel uncertain and other times exhilarated. Either way, life is pushing me toward change. Good luck to you.