this is where i am sleeping for the first seven nights of my new life. one to seven. a full week here in a quiet house while my friend amanda is away with her family. i am getting used to things like children's toys {their presence permeating all the spaces of the house} as well as the child safety locks on all the drawers and doors within reach of her one and a half year old. and despite the fears i had facing my first nights without a home, it's not been a particularly tough transition. i adapt finding solace in cooking my cleanse-friendly foods, cleaning out the fridge, doing dishes, routine sorts of things that ground me in a space that doesn't reflect my spirit back from every surface.
hmm...put that way, living in a home of my own creation almost sounds narcissistic. like i've set up a home of mirrors to remind myself of my own worth and beauty. i did have a moment today on my run {more on that below} where i was thinking ahead to the words i would put to flying back to seattle after my trip to hawaii. is that coming home to seattle if i have no home? do i have to say coming back or simply just returning to?
the words i use have become of vital importance. i cling to the word nomad like a bright orange lifesaver while stranded out at sea. it lets me rest inside the concept of choice in this situation: i am not homeless even though i am without a home. i am choosing this adventure, this local travel, as a way to meander through my life into a place of flexibility, openness and mobility.
i do have to own up to a portion of pride in my donning the title of nomad since i struggle with the fear that people will think i am somehow incapable of taking care of myself {even though there should be no shame for the many who are unable to do so for various reasons}, but for the most part, nomad connects me to the adventure of it all because this is an adventure.
nomad.
adventure.
choice.
freedom.
flexibility.
these are the words i have collected so far.
and things i have enjoyed about this choice:
1. not having to turn around and unpack everything i just put into boxes. that's always a drag.
2. the purging i did with packing was a little more successful since there were many things i would have simply taken to my next apartment but couldn't bother to store. things like my old stereo that needs to be replaced with a nicer sound system, my old comforter that has followed me around since my first boyfriend {time to purge all those stories}, an old pillow from an ex, another pillow i never enjoyed sleeping on. the list continues.
3. running in new neighborhoods and having to sit and map out what might be a nice route of the proper duration {currently in the 6.5-8 mile range}. and today, i had my single most beautiful run that even topped my first run in vancouver around stanley park. discovery park. you took my breath away {and not just because i did my first longer trail run}.
on the topic of my run, as i was thinking back to what i will call the act of coming back to seattle, the image of returning "home" to the garage where all my belongings are stored flitted through my mind. it was a pretty visceral image and it was followed quickly by the sense that i would be returning to a graveyard. a place where all my things have gone to die, resting in peace until i came back to revive them. i quickly replaced that idea with one of hibernating animals simply going to ground for the winter, snuggled up amongst the tightly packed boxes and curling into each other. while the latter is a much softer image, between the two i somehow felt more distinctly the connection between the things and myself. rather than having an inherent value, it's more that their value is something i imbue, their beauty something i invest in my careful consideration of what i acquire and how it's arranged. for the first time, all sweaty running the forest paths of discovery park, it sank into my understanding that the magic they contain and greet me with every time i entered my home actually came from me--a puppeteer animating my things and giving them spirits and life.
and now, hours later, as i think back to this circuit of give and take between objects of resonance and myself, i see how much power i put in the other inherently lessening my own. all along it was only a mirror giving back what i put out.
i make another leap in emotional understanding as i feel for the first time the strength of what thom yorke gives me is merely a reflection of myself {though really, there is no merely where he is concerned}.
on that tangent, one last thought i don't think i ever published here: a moment this spring writing a good friend. i said:
in case it isn't clear, thom is the sun in my artistic universe...though....actually, i would say, that's what it has felt like for the past 13 years since i started listening to them...but my intuition just stepped in this very moment to correct me and say: "thom yorke is the big mirror being held up to the sun that is you, shining in your own creative universe."
still working on that reality, but i think--i hope, as i take away the mirrors that comforted me with my own sense of self, my own connection to beauty that i always managed to believe could never be me but at best could be my things, i will find the more direct connection to these spaces inside me.
okay, off to bed, the one i've been graciously given for this week with children's books, painted murals and tinkerbell decals to keep me company.
~nomad nate.
hmm...put that way, living in a home of my own creation almost sounds narcissistic. like i've set up a home of mirrors to remind myself of my own worth and beauty. i did have a moment today on my run {more on that below} where i was thinking ahead to the words i would put to flying back to seattle after my trip to hawaii. is that coming home to seattle if i have no home? do i have to say coming back or simply just returning to?
the words i use have become of vital importance. i cling to the word nomad like a bright orange lifesaver while stranded out at sea. it lets me rest inside the concept of choice in this situation: i am not homeless even though i am without a home. i am choosing this adventure, this local travel, as a way to meander through my life into a place of flexibility, openness and mobility.
i do have to own up to a portion of pride in my donning the title of nomad since i struggle with the fear that people will think i am somehow incapable of taking care of myself {even though there should be no shame for the many who are unable to do so for various reasons}, but for the most part, nomad connects me to the adventure of it all because this is an adventure.
nomad.
adventure.
choice.
freedom.
flexibility.
these are the words i have collected so far.
and things i have enjoyed about this choice:
1. not having to turn around and unpack everything i just put into boxes. that's always a drag.
2. the purging i did with packing was a little more successful since there were many things i would have simply taken to my next apartment but couldn't bother to store. things like my old stereo that needs to be replaced with a nicer sound system, my old comforter that has followed me around since my first boyfriend {time to purge all those stories}, an old pillow from an ex, another pillow i never enjoyed sleeping on. the list continues.
3. running in new neighborhoods and having to sit and map out what might be a nice route of the proper duration {currently in the 6.5-8 mile range}. and today, i had my single most beautiful run that even topped my first run in vancouver around stanley park. discovery park. you took my breath away {and not just because i did my first longer trail run}.
on the topic of my run, as i was thinking back to what i will call the act of coming back to seattle, the image of returning "home" to the garage where all my belongings are stored flitted through my mind. it was a pretty visceral image and it was followed quickly by the sense that i would be returning to a graveyard. a place where all my things have gone to die, resting in peace until i came back to revive them. i quickly replaced that idea with one of hibernating animals simply going to ground for the winter, snuggled up amongst the tightly packed boxes and curling into each other. while the latter is a much softer image, between the two i somehow felt more distinctly the connection between the things and myself. rather than having an inherent value, it's more that their value is something i imbue, their beauty something i invest in my careful consideration of what i acquire and how it's arranged. for the first time, all sweaty running the forest paths of discovery park, it sank into my understanding that the magic they contain and greet me with every time i entered my home actually came from me--a puppeteer animating my things and giving them spirits and life.
and now, hours later, as i think back to this circuit of give and take between objects of resonance and myself, i see how much power i put in the other inherently lessening my own. all along it was only a mirror giving back what i put out.
i make another leap in emotional understanding as i feel for the first time the strength of what thom yorke gives me is merely a reflection of myself {though really, there is no merely where he is concerned}.
on that tangent, one last thought i don't think i ever published here: a moment this spring writing a good friend. i said:
in case it isn't clear, thom is the sun in my artistic universe...though....actually, i would say, that's what it has felt like for the past 13 years since i started listening to them...but my intuition just stepped in this very moment to correct me and say: "thom yorke is the big mirror being held up to the sun that is you, shining in your own creative universe."
still working on that reality, but i think--i hope, as i take away the mirrors that comforted me with my own sense of self, my own connection to beauty that i always managed to believe could never be me but at best could be my things, i will find the more direct connection to these spaces inside me.
okay, off to bed, the one i've been graciously given for this week with children's books, painted murals and tinkerbell decals to keep me company.
~nomad nate.
writing from magnolia, seattle.
1 comment:
Bohemian:
a person, as an artist or writer, who lives and acts free of regard for conventional rules and practices.
living a wandering or vagabond life, as a Gypsy.
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