A bringing back to a former position or condition; the restoration of peace. ~ Merriam-Webster
One day recently, I was feeling lost and wondering if I have a place anywhere in this world. In my distant past, I had an experience with what can be called “the other side” so powerfully as to know without a doubt something nameless exists where all possibility, love, and genuine power resides. So in my state of need, I called out to that nameless. I said, you’ve shown me you exist, please show me now in manifest ways there is a place for me.
Within a chain of days, astounding synchronicities have happened that to my mind can only be a response from my conscious reconnection to this source.
A Place For Me
- A person responded to my ad seeking pet-free housing by offering me a perfect studio one bedroom at a price I can afford. That’s astounding enough in a county with scarce affordable housing. But this spot is located on the exact same block I had a two-year rental lease in 2003 when my then 3-year-old daughter and I left in the middle of the night to Children’s Hospital, never to return. And where a month prior to that my boyfriend at the time had a health crisis and was airlifted to a trauma center. In short, I am being brought back to the same spot I had chosen to be when my life was seriously interrupted and uprooted 16 years ago. Not only that, but my new landlords have a 3-year-old daughter of their own who will be able to use my now grown daughter’s bed set gifted her by Make A Wish.
- I set about reserving an Airbnb in Portland out of the hundreds available during my daughter’s college parent orientation. The owners of the randomly chosen spot share my cultural heritage and interests in a surprising and synchronous way, we’ve shared information, and look forward to meeting one another.
- Two days following orientation, the small and only pet-free room happened to be available in a motel I’ve stayed at on the Oregon Coast twice before. Those two days were my window to have a reset for myself before my move and after saying goodbye to my daughter, if I was going to.
Photos from brief exploration of my first time in the Trillium Community Forest a quarter mile from where I’m moving in a few months. I was reminded of this poem by Nancy Wood, My Help Is In The Mountain (or in the woods).
For now I’m in the process of letting go of everything. Literally all belongings are being donated, recycled, sold, except my grandmother’s cherry, roll-top desk I inherited which will be stored. With each piece that leaves my space, a wave of relief washes over me. The less I have, the closer I feel to Life. I relish the peace I feel living and working in a single room.
My bookshelf, a couch, and piano have found homes so far. All my books except a few have moved on, but I still have two large boxes of classical piano sheet music from my distant piano virtuoso days. If you are an accomplished or not so accomplished pianist and would like to hold onto my music for your enjoyment for at least a year, please contact me. I don’t know when/if I’ll return to piano, but it won’t be when I’m typing 60+ hours/week for a living as now. There’s a 40-gallon aquarium full setup with tropical fish and stand left to find a home, as well as two free couches to be spared from the dump (I insanely ended up being a couch repository by living in a large space). All my life, I’ve kept healthy fish due to allergies to most other animals, but pet deposit and carrying that aquarium up those stairs to the studio, not going to happen. I’m hoping for a responsible home to find them.
Public beach access on the block where I’ll live soon for a year: