Today my home for the past 10 years is being sold at a sheriff’s sale, an auction. It has been a rough decade. I am thankful that I have a warm place to stay, that having enough to eat is not a problem. We visited yesterday, picked up a few small things that we missed. I looked at big pieces of furniture and some appliances that I could not afford to move or find a place to store.
I hope that the new owners are fond of holly and the lilacs that I planted, the pyrocantha looking as mean as ever, I was thinking as I walked around the house. The shrub roses are now shoulder high. Rounding a corner the backyard and the big pond spread out before me. The pin oak I had planted six years ago is now coming into its fullness. I’ve had to amend the soil once to counter the Indiana clay. I hope it will get the care that it needs so that the grandness of it’s green maturity will be seen in glory some day.
it is not so much the problems of life that plague us as our reaction to them. Every step in the path is an initiation-not a slight not a punishment. Today I feel this initiation keenly, understanding better that when I take care of myself and do what I need to do. The house that is going away today was not really the house I wanted. I wanted a lot less house and much more garden. I wanted more privacy. (No more cul-de-sacs for me, or subdivisions, for that matter.) I want to feel safe. I learned that there is a big difference between delegation and giving away my power, which I did in spades. I am a living example of what happens when a sociopath enters your life, unleashing their rage on you.
These days I’m learning how to deal with no car, no family, absent friends, insular roommates and an indifferent homeowner that does not share my sense of order or cleanliness. I can be sad, I can be angry, I can do what I can and leave the rest. I can go up to my room – a 12 x 14 space – and write, surrendering to this initiation with words.