Gratitude, Joy, Oneness and Service (Day 693 – Day 703)
It’s been just over two weeks since I packed up my life of more than a decade and moved to a place I haven’t lived in over 20 years. I averaged 1.5 hours sleep a night during that last week in London and when I arrived, I fell ill with the typical cold that hits everyone who has run on adrenaline and suddenly comes to a grinding halt. The problem is that I didn’t come to a halt. I’ve been working on getting my goods from the UK, replacing broken luggage, reporting a fraud that happened overseas and the repercussions on all of my banking details, dealing with health insurance, two different tax jurisdictions, filling in government forms and finding a place to live. After two years of discussions with my employer, I landed and found chaos around my job which has obstructed my ability to find a place to live for yet another month. And, all this is going on while I am staying in the basement of my folks’ home, as a fully grown adult.
It has been one hell of a two week churn.
I have had bad timing. Apparently it is in the last 6 weeks that the market for rentals has gone insane in the area. It has now a lower vacancy rate than either London or New York and people are bidding on rentals in a way that the Vancouver area has so far only seen in sales. I’ve seen at least 20 places. Some were very dodgy, and some quite nice but not within my Canadian budget or they have some kind of backhand deal that just feels fishy. I’ve encountered 4 scams (that I spotted) in my two weeks of looking. I feel less secure here than I did in London or New York because in both cases, I found my first place to live within days.
I need very little in an living space – a feeling of safety, light, and the ability to sleep at night. Even with that little in the way of criteria, I haven’t found a place to live.
I’m just trying to swim with the tide but I keep getting churned up.
I’m re-thinking what it is that I really want in my next home. Security is a must – and that includes knowing who I am contracting with, and living below my means. Beyond that, I guess it comes down to this: What does ‘home’ mean? And that is a question I can’t answer or the answer I might have in my heart is not the answer I can easily express to the world.
I once told a friend, in London, that I get sucked into Facebook quite easily – or I used to, anyway. She asked me if I tend to be more on Facebook when I’m away from home. I was unable to answer that. The question pre-supposes that there is this mythical place called ‘home.’
I moved 9 times before the age of 12 and then we settled down for what seemed like an eternity – 3 years. But all through that time there was the looming certainty of moving, again. I never got used to having an idea of ‘home.’ We had a house, but roots was not a thing I knew. I lived in London longer than I lived anywhere in my life. Is Canada my home? Is London, where I am a foreigner despite having dual citizenship? I don’t know that I will ever know what it is to call a place ‘home’ other than the limits of my own skin.
I am my only home.
For me, it is about being safe enough in myself and my surroundings to be able to surf the waves of change and chaos and not get churned up. I don’t know this for a fact but from my limited experience of actual surfing, I found that I got churned in the surf when my board went one way and I went the other. The churn happened because I was attached. And so it is in life.
The day I arrived in Canada, my step mother asked me whether it was difficult to leave my friends behind. I had no words for the grief I feel at leaving them. If I were leaving them to go to Singapore or Zurich it would be different still. But I have left friends and a way of life that I’ve come to love to come to a place that is both foreign and full of ghosts – both living and dead. Detachment becomes particularly difficult when we are dealing with ghosts. It is they who seem to have the grip on us, not the other way around.
Two children in any family will have different experiences and this is particularly so when there is a big age difference. My eldest sister is 10 years older than I and the sister closest to me is still 5 years older. I ran away from home when I was 13. I ran away twice that year. And when I was 16 and able to go to University, I went. I moved away from home but it wasn’t until my mother died that I really ‘left.’ She was the closest thing to what I think we all consider ‘home,’ for me. And so I really really left home – First across the continent; and then across the world. In one way or another, I guess I’ve been running away from ‘home’ since I was 13 years old.
I am my only home.
I am here and I am surfing. And that is enough.
I am happy to share my joys, but pain is something I keep private. I’ve asked my friends not to ask me any questions about my life right now. I will share what I feel like sharing when I am ready to share it. My private and my public self are split in a way that they haven’t been, in a very very long time. I am grateful that even if they cannot understand it, they seem to accept it. And I trust that you will, too.
While it is awful, I am grateful that I am in tune with my feelings of discomfort. This discomfort helps me to pause. I need time to process everything right now. And, while I’m doing that, I’m grateful for my ability to draw.
Drawing is helping to keep me calm in a turbulent time. It is a joy to see my drawing improving because I know that I am no longer in my head. I draw portraits of the people I love, because while I am processing all of my anxiety, grief, and hope, it is important to have that connection with people I consider to be my closest allies. That Oneness with them is a great reserve of strength for me right now.
My service is nothing spectacular this week. In fact, I think just keeping my hair on and not disrupting those around me more than is necessary, with this incredible undertow, is a service. Today I walked out of a bad situation and went to my car. For the first time in my life, I let out a primal scream that left me without a voice and gasping for air. The meaning in all of this is that sometimes, it takes everything we have to just try to keep our head above water and it is in those times we most need to look for the things in our lives for which we are grateful, that bring us joy and that connect us with something bigger than ourselves. Swami Satchidananda used to say to us, his students, that it was in these most trying of times that our practice really gets tested and we see how far we’ve come and how far we have yet to journey along the path ‘home.’