Summer Migration
Spreadsheets and lists and physical exertions from a move have consumed my life as of late, while writing has fallen by the wayside. I am typing this update from my bed while I am temporarily sidelined from physical activity. My spouse and I no longer own much in the way of furniture and many of our possessions are boxed up in preparation for this cross country move - the second one in 2.5 years. I suspect I will be an expert mover after this round. I thought I might share some of my philosophical musings on this whole process, as told to myself, by myself.
Moving will challenges the creative process
My heart will ache to create practically screaming at me and flooding my whole body with both desire and guilt. While my brain will tell me over and over, “NO NO NO.” It will say, “There is too much to be done. The house is a mess and you cannot work in messes. The time for creation is after this task has been checked off. Besides, you deserve a break from the agony of the creative process. Just let yourself go. Let it go. Maybe you don’t want it that much anyway. Look at all of the evidence that you cannot follow through with writing or art or creation. You are an analytical person. Not a creative. Who are you kidding? Stick with the lists and spreadsheets - besides you have to find a new job.” If I’m lucky (like I am in this moment) I catch myself in these negative cognitions, I will take a deep breath and say softly to that advice, “No thank you” and create anyways.
Moving as practice in non-attachment
When my sister and I were children, my mother would periodically show up in our bedroom with a trash bags and tell us we couldn’t leave our rooms until the empty bag was filled with donations. I remember my sister and I strategizing about what to give away - bigger toys fill the bag faster, VHS tapes are bulky and can be rented, no sense in getting rid of small things like barbie shoes even if we didn’t want them because the space they took up would be miniscule. There was a part of me that hated this ritual, but there was another part of me that felt free in letting toys go. My sister and I both grew up into adults who constantly (or periodically) purge our possessions. Still, being forced to pare down for a move in a time crunch has me ruminating on why I feel particular attachments to some items over others and why getting rid of some items feels like such a loss. More than anything, moving also illuminated the attachments I have to the place where I live, the biome I inhabit, being surrounded by conifers, rivers, an entire new ecosystem I have been learning since moving here. There is a certain alchemy in attachment that I have been practicing, saying my goodbyes to so many particulars that I love about this place. Each attachment honors a deep love and shows appreciation, rather than hostility, towards its impending absence.
Moving and honoring one’s body and abilities
One of the most challenging aspects of chronic pain is that my mind tells me one thing about how much I can and would like to accomplish and my body just flat our refuses. It is why I am in bed now, writing, creating, saving up physical energy to do the day’s tasks. Pain also takes mental energy to reason with. There is a threshold I can push to the edge, but I dare not go over because the pain will be unbearable. There are plenty cultural narratives about productivity and usefulness and chronic pain or illness will (pardon my language) challenge the fuck out of any ideas you might have about what makes a person worthwhile in the world, or in capitalism in particular. There are many reasons that I am grateful for the perspective that chronic pain has brought to my life, even though it is not something I would wish on another soul. I am finding the time to rest and to shift in all of this.
I prefer to think of moving in different ways than my conditioning dictates. I prefer to think of it as a time when one can really sink into the feeling of being a mathematical vector, a point with great magnitude, moving in one direction. I also prefer to think of moving as a migration, that “v” in the sky that means home goes with you wherever you are. I am home now amongst the boxes and the chaos. I will continue to be home in the journey.