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Message |
| Posted By: |
UT |
| Date: |
1-Nov-2005-17:24:41 |
| Subject: |
A moving experience |
God I love moving! It gets me really high.
I must have moved from one town to another forty times in my life. And I get off on the experience as much today as I did when I was growing up as a military brat. I love the sorting through stuff, deciding what to leave behind and what to take with you. I love the packing part, trying to fit everything into the most efficient space. And I even love the lugging of boxes. It's good exercise, and it adds a physical element to the leaving behind and the going to.
We did a lot of moving while studying with Rama. I think I lived in eleven different places during my 14 years with him. A lot of you probably lived in even more. And wasn't it a gas?
Making a decision to pick up and move, in a moment. Realizing a short while later how little sense that decision made in the real world. Packing up and driving across the country, landing in a new town, having to learn how it worked, how its energy lines were laid out. Finding the perfect place to live. Decorating it as best you could on a student's budget. Meditating in it to chase the boogers away and make it a comfortable place to live.
And then, just when you got comfortable, doing it again. It just rocked.
It still does. I'm sitting in my now-empty Paris apartment, about to climb into a car tomorrow and drive off to a new place. And I'm recollecting all those other times I was in a similar position. Moving to Boston. Moving to Malibu. Moving to New York. Moving to Chicago. Moving to Boston again. Moving to Santa Fe. Moving to Paris. All of the moves were scary in their way, and made little sense. But scary is good...they all turned out well. I get the feeling this one will, too.
And I'm remembering the times I moved all by myself and the times I moved as part of a group. Both were fascinating, but the group experiences were better in a sense, because we made each other laugh. I remember driving across the country with Ananda, in two different vehicles, keeping in touch via walkie-talkie. We told each other jokes, we made funny comments about the places we were driving through, we stopped in the most weirdass places in the universe. I remember having coffee with him in a diner early one morning in Bucksnort, Tennessee. It was epiphanal; neither of us could stop laughing at the Zen of it all.
Moving is a little like dying and being reborn. You realize that your time is short and that you have to sort through all your shit and decide what parts of your self to leave behind and what parts to take with you. Or like meditation, where you do the same thing, except that you can't take any of your self with you. :-)
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