Ever have the feeling that you’ve come Home, truly Home? When you look around and sigh contentedly and ask yourself why the hell you didn’t get here sooner because this — THIS — is utterly perfect and wonderful?
Just about a year ago my Kahuna and I drove west from where we’d been sweltering in the Palm Springs heat hoping for magical healing for me in a weeklong martial arts seminar, the seminar we’d saved and scraped to afford, where I spent most of the day shivering in air-conditioning and too sick from brain radiation to get up or move, let alone learn awesome and complicated martial arts forms in the grassy wonderland of a Palm Springs resort. We drove west on a whim, almost, a hope and a prayer that some biochemist guy in San Diego had some answers that would help me live. That whim was right — we eventually learned things that certainly contributed to the vast puzzle that is healing from cancer. I am the miracle story thanks in part to that whim.
But this story is not about cancer. This story is about Magic and Possibility.
We drove west that day on freeways and then followed a twisty curving road lined with expensive houses. We crested a hill. And there it was.
Sparkling. Vast. Magical.
It took my breath away, the ocean did. I cried from the beauty, the H-O-M-E of it. San Diego…
Winds whispered its name to me over the months that followed. Someday, we told ourselves. Someday we will be able to move there. We told ourselves that our tribe was there. Waiting for us. Welcoming us. Someday it will be time. My lower lip quivered but I said okay. First things first. Heal from cancer. Get our act together. Make a pile of money. Then we’ll be ready.
The universe conspires to help us, but not always in the ways we plan.
One day I shall tell you the story of how we came to move our stuff and Miss Persnickety Kitty from Seattle to San Diego far before we thought we were ready. Things happened. Not-so-good things. We chose to make the leap, dive into the deep end, and go to where the sun shines onto flowers and palm trees and sparkling blue ocean.
I’m writing to you from paradise.
Our stuff is in storage. We have no permanent home. Don’t know where we will sleep in a month. We don’t live in Seattle anymore, and we don’t yet live in California. Limbo. So many questions that as yet have no answers. But five minutes drive from here is a beach. We are meeting our tribe, who indeed welcome us with open arms. I’ve never felt happier, more at home, even though we have no home. I make art every day.
On Facebook I’ve been calling it our Bold New Life.
Sometimes you can’t wait. Sometimes you just have to DO. Take the leap. Make it happen. Figure it out on the fly. Sometimes you just have to believe in the magic.