Letting go....

Here's a little background for any gentle reader....  My husband Ingi and I moved from Portland, Oregon in 2009 to the Tricities area of Eastern Washington.  The move to a new job and a new locale was precipitated by the unhappy circumstance that the company for which Ingi had been working was being disassembled piece by piece.  An attractive offer arose from a group based in the Tricities, affording Ingi the opportunity to work on a project that he had hoped would both benefit his employer and give him some creative expression in the field of transportation.  For a number of reasons, this project has now morphed into something that looks different from the original concept, and something that is even still in process.  My brave hoosbondi has teamed with a colleague in Indianapolis, Indiana, and the two of them are marching forth with their good idea, their many contacts, their hopes, and their combined experience to give birth to this "start-up".  I am along for the ride.

The last 4 weeks have been intense.  I can't think of any other word that more accurately describes this time.  I have been on my feet from morning 'till evening -- organizing, cleaning, packing, hosting a garage sale, taking items to Good Will, etc.  For those of you who know me well, you are aware of my long term conflicted relationship with my "stuff".  I've gathered stuff, bought and collected stuff, inherited stuff, and, as I see now in retrospect, almost drowned myself in stuff.  As an Army brat, home was always where your STUFF was, as we moved almost yearly and home was never associated with geography, neighborhood, or any particular structure.  So I became accustomed to attaching to stuff.  I am pleased to say that this phase in my life is shifting to the lighter, and with the courage it takes to let go and with the help of good, generous friends, I have bid adieu to over half my stuff.  When we moved to the TriCities, it took two 22 ft trucks and multiple car and pick up truck loads to haul our stuff.  Last Saturday we filled (yes, to the brim) one single 28 foot freight trailer with all our worldly goods.  As I write this blog, our stuff is most probably on a train somewhere in the west, headed for delivery to Indianapolis on May first.  I hope the date is auspicious and refers to the joy akin to May day flowers and welcome baskets my Mother taught me to leave on neighbor's doors.  The other reference would be the drama of an emergent "Mayday!  Mayday!  Mayday!" call.  I hope that this adventure will be much more about flower power than 911 trauma.

Ingi has gone ahead to Indiana to continue setting up his office and create and grow the business.  Last Sunday after our trailer was loaded up, he flew from Pasco, Washington through Denver to Indianapolis with our calico cat, Belle, tucked into her cat carrier.  It was an epic journey for Bella, contained in a cage for 11 hours.  We are happy to report that she survived the experience and is now stretching her legs in the upstairs studio apartment at the home of Ingi's business partner and his wife.  Don't you think it's amazingly generous of them to temporarily house both my husband and our cat?  Soon Ingi will be able to move to our very own rented condo, but until then we are dependent, once again, on the sweetness of friends and family.  This recent time in my life has several themes -- one about letting go, another about learning to be the gracious beneficiary of extraordinary kindness and generosity.  I can't say that either lesson has come easily to me, but I can say that I see great benefit in both.

My beloved sister Carol has joined me on this drive.  She, and I, and my Golden Retriever Sailor are packed into the SUV.  I definitely have not conquered the minimalist life style to which I now aspire, so sadly have to report that there is still too much "stuff" in the car, but I think we will travel safely and well stocked -- we have food for humans and dog and medicine and clothes and computers and water and blankets and pillows and hope and laughter and good stories and bonhomie.  Today we left the TriCities and drove to Missoula, Montana.  It was around 350 miles, and took us about 6 hours, driving easily in great spring weather, stopping often at rest stops to exercise the dog and our own legs.  Carol flew in from San Francisco, so she was in four states today -- California, Washington, Idaho, and now Montana.  She snores lightly as I write, tired from an early morning and the day of travel.  We talked as sisters can, jumping from topics of our shared histories to current work situations, childhood antics and thoughts about the future.  She presented me with a treasure she had been keeping in a drawer -- our mother's high school graduation ring.  What a lovely gift.  So now on the forth finger of my right hand is a modest ring from Montrose (South Dakota) High School from 1938, EMS (Evelyn Mae Swanson).  She is with us. When I left this morning I was also gifted with a key chain with pictures of my heart mates Pat and Michele.  They are with us.  Carol's kids texted us, friends facebooked or called, Ingi checked in several times by phone, Bobi gave us a tiny dashboard flower vase filled with purple blooms to cheer our drive.  They are all with us.  And isn't this the way it is?  We are never really alone, but carry the good wishes and energies of our loved ones in our minds and hearts.  As I write in this Montana hotel, I am aware of how blessed and rich I feel.  


Reflection has settled me down.  It was not difficult to say good bye to the desert as I am not fond of the climate or the environment.  It is VERY wrenching to say good bye to the excellent tribe of women I found there -- a cohort of talented, beautiful, smart, and funny beings.  I sense the band of connection stretching even more between myself and my Portland friends and family, yet I know that this is an elastic band, and it WILL stretch but not break.  I practiced QiGong this morning before I left Richland and the jolt of physical energy that I am beginning to experience when I do QiGong created a disconcerting feeling as if my innerds were being whirred in a blender.  The sensation lasted a few hours, before and through dinner, subsiding gradually as I've stilled myself and written.  At first I thought my blood sugar had plummeted, but I tested it and it was fine.  This is energy, pure and complex in it's experience.  Any of you who have learned or are learning any form of martial art or body/energetic work know these sensations.  I am just beginning to feel and breathe into what it means to consciously move energy, and it is quite a surprise.  Yes, change is afoot.  Growth is happening, and my own development mirrors the spurts of the spring season.  Physical, emotional, relational, mental, and spiritual housecleaning and clearing has taken me by storm.  The lightening show that descended upon the TriCities in the days before I left feels now like omen, like a wild and naturally occurring phenomenon from which I can extrapolate meaning and value pertinent to my own human story.  I sat on my friend Pat's outdoor deck as lightening danced in the night sky, giving zaps of momentary illumination.  Small pellets of rain, low, faint thunder, strong electrical sky currents, jagged and frightening yet not frightening.  The storm blew through, leaving us tousled and whirled about.  I hear the message -- let go, let go, let go.  The wind will take it. Be not afraid.  Breathe. Go with the flow. Today I've let go some more, driven fast (75 mph is the speed limit through much of Montana), connected, disconnected, MOVED.   What do I leave behind?  What lies ahead?


So this blog is about this journey to Indiana, yet as you can see it's about so much more than just moving from one state to another, from one city to the next.  As with any journey, the path leads in both directions, past and future.  I hope to write nightly about my thoughts and experiences, using the evening hours to reflect and share.  If you care to, join me.  Comment.  Or not.  By writing, I feel I am taking you with me, my dear friends and family.  I think of you as I compose.  By reading, you participate in the experience, lending your time and energy to this adventure.  I hope I enjoy the ride.  I hope you do too.


I look forward to tomorrow's drive.  Big Sky country.  Our destination is Billings, another 300 plus miles day.


Be well.