Public Storage unit 20, a lovely 10 X 20 tin space where I shamelessly weep curled up on my favorite meditation chair.
I spoke this sentence as the lump in my throat chokes off my words, dictating on my new Dragon speech recognition software. As the words spill onto the page some of the sentences are illegible since the software does not have a button “interpret while crying”. The reality of selling all my worldly possessions to move to Mexico has suddenly washed over me like the Playa waves after a thunder-storm. Even though these “things” have been in storage for almost two years, I still have that sweet attachment to them. Another memory rushes when I grieved over a 10-year-old steadfast Subaru. A companion relationship of 10 year, a record for me of any type of relationship. I wept then as I do today, as they handed me $500 and my friend Bobby pried me away from the car. Feeling like my 7-year-old niece when we extricated her “Green Bunny” her most cherished constant companion.
Today’s grieving began as an incredibly sweet man answered a Craig’s list ad for my couch (which matches the chair I was sitting in). I knew the couch was perfect for him as it was for me when I acquired it. It was a straightforward transaction, I wanted to sell and he wanted to buy. He came with a truck and a friend to pick up the couch. Triggering the chain of events, he simply said, “I think I have room for the chair.” Flustered I replied, “I’ll let you know after I rearrange things”. What I really meant was I had to rearrange my thought process. Unaware of my sudden life cross-roads, he left. Suddenly all the memories of the original purchase of the couch and the chair came flooding back. The memories of the journey of its discovery with a special friend. Then the memories of the times with this friend who impacted my life in such an incredible way. Next the memory this furniture played as the first purchase for the first home I ever owned. Resurrection of even sweeter memories of that behemoth 3,000 square foot mansion bought during the real estate boom. The crystal clear vision of sitting in the morning sunlight as it streamed over this overstuffed, big enough to hold two people chair, second floor of the two-story mansion. This chair I’d sat in so many times and meditated. This chair full of my energy, my enthusiasm, my dreams. This chair where the dream to move to Mexico had been born. The dream that is about to be real if I would love the chair enough to let it go. The same way I let the house go and the majority of the furniture that had filled up the void which is now a distant memory. So I sat in my chair in the Public Storage unit, no wind chimes ringing outside or cat curled up in my lap, just the memories of a moment in time.
This was the defining moment. In order to move on, I have to “act as if”. Letting go of this material anchor of the past. I won’t miss the chair, just the memories associated with the chair. There is a bit of fear about moving on. Unclear of the future, letting go of possessions. Life is so fluid and organic. We cannot hold onto memories like a possession. We can revisit like a great vacation. They are here to shape our lives and create who we are. Some part of me thought I would keep the chair, perhaps an insurance policy if I were to change my mind and stay in California. Have it for the next domicile. The truth is I cannot act as if by keeping one foot in my past. I don’t fully awake to the prospect of my dream of moving to Mexico, I am not fully embracing it.
As silly as it sounds, the grieving has begun for the chair. The memories are not the chair; the memories are stored within me. As I open up to the possibilities of the new experiences that will be just as sweet as any past magical memory, as brave as all those ones before, as creative as all the ones after and all that are happening now. They will all come again in different forms and I get to act as if for them as well.
Realization crystallizes, I only need a palaypa in Playa, a couple of plates for the delicious meals of life, a garlic press for spice, a sturdy pot and pan to cook new dreams, a bowl to hold those life soup important ingredients, and a glass to fill with optimism every single day.
Part of creating your own miracle is to act as if it was already happening. It is only difficult when we hold onto the past.
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