moving woes

As you may already have surmised, my life is not at all together. I've yet to meet someone who claims their ducks truly are in a tight, neat row. Anyone who seems that way, without question does not feel that way inside. And anyone who insists they know what they're doing with this problem called life is lying to you, and to themselves too.

What I'm finding in recent weeks is the difficulty to go there when I want or need to. There, meaning that place of introspection that seems to playfully elude me, prancing around my subconscious enough for me to acknowledge its presence but not attend to it. I've noticed a clear division between people in my twenties: those who dare to go there, and those who either cannot or will not. Both are fine. But I don't fit into the latter group. My psyche demands I go.

Last night’s smoke-laden sunset in our new neighbourhood.

The most interesting part of the attempt to dive in is that the physical world plays a sizeable role in that process. If your physical life and space are in turmoil, that small mental space too becomes tumultuous. In the last month we've moved to a new pad in the city, upturning our regular patterns to forge new ones. Then on Saturday we move again over the space of a week, with the embarkment of our return road trip across the country. That impending migration, like a flock of geese homeward bound, wallops me. I feel inert, incapable of completing basic household tasks, let alone my auspicious personal goals. And I need to go to that inner place to write, to create. A small example of this paralysis at play would be my eagerness to share on the blog my low-waste regimen at home, except for the blaring fact that I need to rid myself of all those jars and reusable containers I've collected, in the interest of car space. I would make a plant-based recipe too, if not for having no food left as the countdown draws to an end. And don’t even ask how I plan on doing this at home with family constantly poking around.

All of this to say I wish I could show up as more of the person I am inside, particularly from the blogging standpoint. But the balance between that aspirational person and the person I am right now is precarious. I can't wish away who I am now, because one day now will be the past and I'll long to be this person once again. I have immense gratitude for the flexibility I enjoy right now. The cost of that flexibility is impermanence.

Thanks for being patient with me while I navigate this stymieing headspace and physical space. 

I'll be back to it soon.

x

— K. JO