I have come to a crossroads, and have made a decision that hopefully will lead to some pretty interesting times ahead of me.
I have decided to go travelling for an extended period of time, leaving it open-ended as to whether I come home at all or not. Who knows. I have only just decided on the outbound journey, and I'm not going to assume there is going to be an inbound return, as most of the decisions I have made to date just lead to the "next best thing" for me.
But making that decision to take off is both exciting and scary. I look around at the life I have built for myself here, at my "home". I look at the "stuff" I have collected, carefully and deliberately chosen to cultivate the impression of the kind of person that I am. I seem to think I am a funky, yet minimalistic, urbanised inner-city chick. I look around at my "things" and I don't see a lot of experiences or emotional ties. I see things. I see books, movies, CDs, furniture, appliances, and decorative touches. Some of these things have stories attached to them, sure. Like the couch my husband ordered for us that he never got to enjoy. Like the paintings I bought in Leura where I twisted my back getting them out of the pile of other paintings, and had to be hospitalised the following week. The posters I picked up in Paris a lifetime ago, and had mounted at my previous home that travelled here to Surry Hills when I was trying to create a new life and new outlook. Like the Tibetan singing bowl I purchased at the Mind Body Spirit festival last year which I had blessed by a lama. You get the picture.
But, I can't help but feel that even when there is a story attached to a "thing", it's really not worth keeping and holding myself back by storing it for "what if" I come back.
I have to make a decision at some point. Am I going to come back and want to re-establish a home? And if that is so, will I want the comfort and familiarity of the "things" I had once collected and gathered around me. Or will I never come back? Or will I come back and be a different person entirely and want to create a new nest around me... or "us"... if that happens? Or will there be something else entirely to come home to?
My heart says to let go. Let go of all the material possessions I have around me right now. Right down to the clothes, shoes, books, DVDs and CDs that could always and easily be stored in a few boxes at my parents' place. Okay, maybe I won't be that ruthless, but I look at things like my bed, my appliances and my washing machine, and think "why would I want to keep this in storage?"
I ask my heart again, and it tells me once again to let it all go. And fly, fly away.
I have decided to go travelling for an extended period of time, leaving it open-ended as to whether I come home at all or not. Who knows. I have only just decided on the outbound journey, and I'm not going to assume there is going to be an inbound return, as most of the decisions I have made to date just lead to the "next best thing" for me.
But making that decision to take off is both exciting and scary. I look around at the life I have built for myself here, at my "home". I look at the "stuff" I have collected, carefully and deliberately chosen to cultivate the impression of the kind of person that I am. I seem to think I am a funky, yet minimalistic, urbanised inner-city chick. I look around at my "things" and I don't see a lot of experiences or emotional ties. I see things. I see books, movies, CDs, furniture, appliances, and decorative touches. Some of these things have stories attached to them, sure. Like the couch my husband ordered for us that he never got to enjoy. Like the paintings I bought in Leura where I twisted my back getting them out of the pile of other paintings, and had to be hospitalised the following week. The posters I picked up in Paris a lifetime ago, and had mounted at my previous home that travelled here to Surry Hills when I was trying to create a new life and new outlook. Like the Tibetan singing bowl I purchased at the Mind Body Spirit festival last year which I had blessed by a lama. You get the picture.
But, I can't help but feel that even when there is a story attached to a "thing", it's really not worth keeping and holding myself back by storing it for "what if" I come back.
I have to make a decision at some point. Am I going to come back and want to re-establish a home? And if that is so, will I want the comfort and familiarity of the "things" I had once collected and gathered around me. Or will I never come back? Or will I come back and be a different person entirely and want to create a new nest around me... or "us"... if that happens? Or will there be something else entirely to come home to?
My heart says to let go. Let go of all the material possessions I have around me right now. Right down to the clothes, shoes, books, DVDs and CDs that could always and easily be stored in a few boxes at my parents' place. Okay, maybe I won't be that ruthless, but I look at things like my bed, my appliances and my washing machine, and think "why would I want to keep this in storage?"
I ask my heart again, and it tells me once again to let it all go. And fly, fly away.