Here you have it. My new place.
It faces east, which is good karma, according to Ayurvedic principles, and is on the top of the hill. I look out to the north and see my orchard where I planted sixteen new trees last year. I am at the end of a dead end road, and will have two acres of yard and gardens to mow. To the south I have walnut trees and a small, very overgrown vineyard.
My current house is under contract, but is still generating interest, as evidenced by the numerous "drive-bys" this morning. The "For Sale," sign is still in the yard.
Both houses are rare "in town" acreages, like Mary T.'s in Boulder. Cars and pickups are very, very slowly driving by gawking at my gardens, funny little house, and horse barn. Good thing I don't run around in my skivvies.
At the moment, my garage door is open, exposing my true, less-than-neat self to the world. I close it since I still want to make a good impression. There are still some hoops to jump through before the sale is final.
Now I need to start clearing out and removing the last remnants of my thirty-three year marriage. He moved on, remarried, and took almost nothing with him, except his dogs. He left all of our family pictures, videos, and his considerable artwork including sculpture, drawings and paintings. I kept it.
I still have his political cartoons from college days when he was the cartoonist for the Baker Orange, the Baker University newspaper in Baldwin City, Kansas. I was always going to publish them with a commentary on the sixties. Looking back at them, they are still timely. But they are also another way to punish myself. See how talented he was, how he really was the sun and the moon? He eclipsed everyone around him.
When I spent four days with a Maya shaman in Guatemala, I had readings done on all of my family, including him. They showed a family of healers, of shaman. The shaman said that he was very powerful, but I had another role. I have packed all the notebooks in a large sterlite container and taken it to the New House where I will begin our stories.
Everything changes. Maybe I will go back and visit the shaman. Maybe I will find love. Maybe not. Either way, I am becoming whole again.


Salon.com
Comments
A little tune-up with another visit to shaman would certainly do no harm.
I like the tone of this post. I really do.
awww...my image of you totally shattered ;)
It leaves me speechless, and grateful. But not enough to run around in my skivvies.