I haven’t moved yet, but the prospect of moving in two weeks time has got me distracted from everything else. I am finishing old projects that have turned up, organizing my belongings, and getting rid of garbage one bag at a time. We have packers coming to do the big work of boxing it all up, but I’ve still got to sort out what needs to be taken, and what should be given away, recycled, composted, or trashed.
While I feel that I have the moving part under control, I have to admit that I occasionally get a bit scared about moving to Gabriola. I’ve been pretty committed to urban living for a long time, and there’s a part of me that worries that I am not ready to go back to the country just yet. On the other hand, whenever we go out to our cabin in the woods (which we just did for five amazing days this past weekend) – I never want to leave, and re-entering the city feels like a big drag. And then when I imagine living steps from the sea, I get really excited. So – really, I’m feeling all the feelings. I have loved my home and my neighbourhood for a long time, I am also ready to move on from this house, but I don’t want to leave because leaving is change and change is who knows what next?
Right? Right. Moving residence is a thing I haven’t done for awhile – not since I came back from the Sunshine Coast nine years ago – and I am provoked by the reality of it. The hugeness of the undertaking. The smallness of its importance to anyone else but me.
I’m not sure if I’ll get to post much in the next couple of weeks – we’ll see. But if I don’t, rest assured that I am just gently freaking out as the days tick by and pretty soon it will all be done.
I remember hearing Ted Joans the American Beat generation jazz poet give a talk once when I was about 18. He was musing on travel, moving countries and how to make a rich full life. He gave the sage advice that you can move around as much as you want as long as each time you leave a city or country it is because you are finished there, you have done thoroughly and with heart whatever it was you came to do. He implied that this would take a different amount of time for each different place, sometimes one night is enough, sometimes 10 years, but that you would know it when you were done. It always stuck with me, though he said it with more brevity and wit than I have here, something more like: If you ain’t done it all, then stick around, but when you’re finished with all that, skedaddle.