Perspective, Closed Doors, Unopened Windows
Wow. It's been nearly seven months since I've written in this public forum. I've been missing my regular writing. The making it public, well, that is rooted in a firm belief of practicing what one preaches. I publish it for me- a type of written record of life and a disciplined desire to make the vulnerability of writing visible.
My husband would laugh if I say I haven't been writing. I compose constantly but it remains in my head. I've been composing this post over the last few weeks as we moved across town to a smaller place and engaged in what is termed by many as "downsizing". I could write an entire post on that term. I feel a lot of freedom from parting with unnecessary stuff and having less to maintain and clean. In many ways I feel we have upsized. But, that's another lengthy post for another time.
What has been striking me most with this move is perspective, how we get stuck in one way of seeing things and how uneasy it is when we are forced to change it. My whole moving process has been one big metaphor, and you know I love those.
The decision to move was first. The large empty house was full of happy memories but it also bore a mother's pain of the reminders of children moving on and it felt like time for a new chapter- a smaller chapter with less vacuuming. As we discussed the possible move we started to examine our lives and thought about moving elsewhere- away- a true new chapter. We had options. We explored them. We learned a great deal. First of all, every place on Earth has issues. There is no Utopia. There is no greener grass (although my husband would argue that there is nothing wrong with the brown hues of sea grass on the beach in Florida). All of this exploring brought about a change in perspective. Without sharing too much detail let me assure you that when one sits at a table where faculty are arguing theory in a less than humane way in front of a guest one realizes how very much they love their life at "home" in their alma mater with people they care about and care for and a new perspective is born. I have no regrets in looking at options as it provided a fresh perspective that was much needed and reminded me of all of the things I love and cherish in good old freezing cold Wyoming. As I prepare for the upcoming fall semester I can't imagine doing it anywhere else. There's the saying about God closing a door but opening a window. Throughout this process it felt like doors were slamming shut and windows were slamming shut. In the end, that was okay because I learned to stay put and be quiet and look past things that were getting me down to rekindle a passion for what I do and where I do it. I'm thankful for the closed doors and windows. They gave me a new fresh and healthy perspective.
Next, was the decision to move across town. Our house sold in two hours. Two. hours. We didn't know whether to hug our realtor or slap him. We had envisioned this leisurely time over the summer months to find a new place and move in an orderly fashion like my Type A personality desires. Nope. It was a scramble. We were fortunate to find a house that is feeling more and more like home and we threw things in boxes and into storage and we're finding everything except for one box that holds my pajamas. If you find it along the side of the road please let me know- and, yes, I've gone shopping since the move and I didn't mind. Our new place is directly across town. We were on the north side of town and now we're on the south side. Laramie is small. It isn't that far. It might as well be a world away. I take the wrong turn constantly, following neural pathways to the old house. I used to drop by Starbucks on a whim. Now, I have to plan a trip there. I used to take two left turns to WalMart. Now it is a trip down the interstate to the next exit. It's so strange. I feel like I'm seeing Laramie in a whole new way.
The new neighborhood is also a refreshing new perspective. Our wonderful previous home was in a quiet neighborhood, mostly retirees, near a golf course. The new house is in a mixed neighborhood, about half rental and half owner residences. There are children riding bikes and people talking and lawns that are a little messy due to busy lives and we love it. It feels alive and real. We're enjoying the new perspective and new energy.
This spring and summer we've faced fear head on. We explored open doors and open windows and they either slammed shut or we had the chance to close them gently and know that at this moment we are right where we need to be. As soon as I remember to go south instead of north I'll truly feel settled and home.
So, what's next? A temporary change in perspective approaches as I excitedly prepare for a trip to NYC with my daughter to attend the theatre (insert lousy British accent). A huge change in perspective will follow when we add an eight week old Jack Russell Terrier puppy to the mix. As our children noted- we cut our house in half and doubled the family. The new puppy to join us is Nole. If any of you are wondering why a solid Duke fan has a puppy named after the Seminoles I'll buy you a coffee and tell you a story about perspective and choosing joy.
My husband would laugh if I say I haven't been writing. I compose constantly but it remains in my head. I've been composing this post over the last few weeks as we moved across town to a smaller place and engaged in what is termed by many as "downsizing". I could write an entire post on that term. I feel a lot of freedom from parting with unnecessary stuff and having less to maintain and clean. In many ways I feel we have upsized. But, that's another lengthy post for another time.
What has been striking me most with this move is perspective, how we get stuck in one way of seeing things and how uneasy it is when we are forced to change it. My whole moving process has been one big metaphor, and you know I love those.
The decision to move was first. The large empty house was full of happy memories but it also bore a mother's pain of the reminders of children moving on and it felt like time for a new chapter- a smaller chapter with less vacuuming. As we discussed the possible move we started to examine our lives and thought about moving elsewhere- away- a true new chapter. We had options. We explored them. We learned a great deal. First of all, every place on Earth has issues. There is no Utopia. There is no greener grass (although my husband would argue that there is nothing wrong with the brown hues of sea grass on the beach in Florida). All of this exploring brought about a change in perspective. Without sharing too much detail let me assure you that when one sits at a table where faculty are arguing theory in a less than humane way in front of a guest one realizes how very much they love their life at "home" in their alma mater with people they care about and care for and a new perspective is born. I have no regrets in looking at options as it provided a fresh perspective that was much needed and reminded me of all of the things I love and cherish in good old freezing cold Wyoming. As I prepare for the upcoming fall semester I can't imagine doing it anywhere else. There's the saying about God closing a door but opening a window. Throughout this process it felt like doors were slamming shut and windows were slamming shut. In the end, that was okay because I learned to stay put and be quiet and look past things that were getting me down to rekindle a passion for what I do and where I do it. I'm thankful for the closed doors and windows. They gave me a new fresh and healthy perspective.
Next, was the decision to move across town. Our house sold in two hours. Two. hours. We didn't know whether to hug our realtor or slap him. We had envisioned this leisurely time over the summer months to find a new place and move in an orderly fashion like my Type A personality desires. Nope. It was a scramble. We were fortunate to find a house that is feeling more and more like home and we threw things in boxes and into storage and we're finding everything except for one box that holds my pajamas. If you find it along the side of the road please let me know- and, yes, I've gone shopping since the move and I didn't mind. Our new place is directly across town. We were on the north side of town and now we're on the south side. Laramie is small. It isn't that far. It might as well be a world away. I take the wrong turn constantly, following neural pathways to the old house. I used to drop by Starbucks on a whim. Now, I have to plan a trip there. I used to take two left turns to WalMart. Now it is a trip down the interstate to the next exit. It's so strange. I feel like I'm seeing Laramie in a whole new way.
The new neighborhood is also a refreshing new perspective. Our wonderful previous home was in a quiet neighborhood, mostly retirees, near a golf course. The new house is in a mixed neighborhood, about half rental and half owner residences. There are children riding bikes and people talking and lawns that are a little messy due to busy lives and we love it. It feels alive and real. We're enjoying the new perspective and new energy.
This spring and summer we've faced fear head on. We explored open doors and open windows and they either slammed shut or we had the chance to close them gently and know that at this moment we are right where we need to be. As soon as I remember to go south instead of north I'll truly feel settled and home.
So, what's next? A temporary change in perspective approaches as I excitedly prepare for a trip to NYC with my daughter to attend the theatre (insert lousy British accent). A huge change in perspective will follow when we add an eight week old Jack Russell Terrier puppy to the mix. As our children noted- we cut our house in half and doubled the family. The new puppy to join us is Nole. If any of you are wondering why a solid Duke fan has a puppy named after the Seminoles I'll buy you a coffee and tell you a story about perspective and choosing joy.
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