Deletions

Before change can become an addition, it must always be a deletion. There is a letting go before there is a letting come, and just now there is a whole lot of that letting go. At home, we prepare for the kitchen demolition. But first, the boxes arrived, all 40 of them, the boxes containing the kitchen cabinets. Unfortunately, I do not have a garage, so the boxes inhabit my living room.

Let's move to the bedroom then. If the living room is a reminder of endings, what do I see in the bedroom? My bedroom is dominated by a large, metal structure called an x-pen. Basically, it is a fenced dog pen, large enough for my beautiful hound, who has a broken leg and must not move about much. So, here in the bedroom, too, I stare in the face of change, in this case a change that saddens and was not chosen, like the remodel.

Perhaps I could escape by going to work? Ah, the plot thickens, for my office and workspace are both also in demolition phase. Witness the large dumpster below my third floor window, and the walls draped in visqueen. This could continue for a while. We do not yet have a finish date we can circle in red on the wall calendar, if we could get to the wall calendar, which we cannot.

I write to describe this place of in-between-ness. I write to witness my own state of mind as I navigate it. It is a place that is called "liminal" for there is a crossing over that is taking place. But I am not there yet. I have some of the old and some of the new, and a whole lot of ambiguity. As much as my life history appears to be a primer on welcoming in changes, do not look to me for advice here. It is uncomfortable. I think it is going to be uncomfortable for quite a while yet.

I have spent most of my life actively moving the deck chairs (or the kitchen cabinets in this case) in quest of the perfect way of living. If I had put a tenth as much energy into my inner state as I have my outer state, how different the world might be for me today. So, witness my impatience and discomfort with the multiple changes I am immersed in, but also witness my vow: "I will stay awake through these changes, even the uncomfortable parts. I will witness the discomfort. I will seek peace amid the boxes. I will practice my endings with grace." Welcome, chaos. You are a state of mind more than a circumstance. There are no enemies here. Come in. Pull up a chair (if you can find one).