Picking up!

The sun is shining, the bugs are benign, I smelt a gorgeous orange flower today, saw a snake and ate goo-ey chocolate brownies. In short life here at the Isabella freedman Ctr is good. Things are looking up!! I think a good night's sleep, getting into my work role and some fun get-into-your-body sessions have all helped. Of course, the passing of time also helps readjustment and I feel I'm beginning to land!
Btw, if I've not already directed you to it, go to www.isabellafreedman.org and click on the "watch our movie" bit (on the bottom right of the web page). It will give you a great intro to where I am and the ethos of the center. In short, it's all about heart-centred spirituality, creating a better world, environmentalism, conscious living and looking after the elderly in a multi-generational contect. This week, the programmes are all for silver-haired folk. I love watching the old couples toddle around hand in hand - they are so cute!!! Yesterday, I was chatting to an 83 year-old couple who've known each other since they were 6. They were both married to other people - had long, happy marriages - became widowed and refound each other. How cute is that !!!!!

May madness

As May is drawing to an end, I realise what a rich and crazy month it's been. I got a J1 visa, gave notice on my job of four years, moved out of my flat, sold or gave away many possessions, had some really meaningful goodbye interactions with my old neighbours who helped me tremendously during the move. I must, MUST, M U S T send them a postcard to touch base!!!

On May 17, I left. My mom - who has never cried before at a departure - had tears streaming down her cheeks as she dropped me off at the station and that image had me tearful for most of the tube journey and flight.

I looked around LAX - no Tom in the arrival hall. He said he may get lost, so I was all psyched up to sit around for a bit when he came bounding over in flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt. OK!! I finally knew that I wasn't in England!!! It took the best part of 5 hours to crawl through LA traffic and then drive the 200 miles or so north. By now it was around 4am UK time and I was waaaay out of it and my eyelids opened from time to time to take in the beautiful scenery and then drooped shut. We arrived at Tom's place after dark, so i felt truly disoriented.

The next nine days were sheer bless. Pure, undiluted happiness. Wonderful and so natural to be together again - it felt like we had weeks together. Tom was joking about kidnapping me, so I didn't have to leave for the East Coast - I was at times offering myself up as a willing captive! Even on the way to San Francisco (to get my flight East) I still had no sense of true belief I was really leaving. As we drove into the airport, Tom asked me what terminal we needed to drive to. I got out my itinerary and added a loud "oh shit!" as I'd asked him to drive me to the wrong airport. I'm sure something subconscious was going on there!!!

The airline (Jet Blue) were fab and let me take a flight from their airport at no extra charge, however it meant rushing like a crazy woman as we entered the airport at 10.05 and the only flight going East that night was at 10.30pm. It was like something out of a movie - Tom grabbed my hand and off we ran - he (the athlete) pulling me (the not so athletic!) off to security. It was probably the quickest romantic goodbye in history!

I'd love to write about the gorgeousness of where Tom lives and some of the stuff we did there! That will be the next blog entry!!! Then of course, I can bring you up to speed with life in the woods out East.

Am missing Tom big time and my mind is definitely still in Central California. I feel as if I should be going back in a few days time and the reality that I'm here for 3 months hasn't yet hit. i wonder whether I'll "land" here soon, or whether my yearning and wistfulness will guide me back West before my contract is over!!!

Am curious about how life will unravel!

just be

Wow! Life has surfed forward since Thursday's post. I stood in line for an hour outside the embassy (hint = come warmly bundled up). I was in long sleeves and trousers, but I could see the goosebumps on the flesh of the students around me in t-shirts and shorts. When I got inside, my hands were so cold that the scanning machine (which takes an imprint of your fingers) couldn't pick up an image for me!

Anyway, the lady said "you've been authorised" - I did an internal can-can on the spot and life since has been about ridding myself of possessions, moving possessions and going through the formalities of closing down a life. It's a project. It's a full-time job.

My flat is stripped bare of artwork and books. Those are the things that I care about most, that are my comfort toys. Now they've gone, the flat is becoming more and more of a shell and less of me. I move my imprint with me.

My brother is packing his bags tonight. I say to him I won't see you for 3 months and 2 weeks. I wish there was more time for socialising and really being "with" people. I can't be present with anyone while there is still so much chaos to be packed, stored and put in suitcases. I need to do this to close my life here.

I come home yet again to Tom's voice on the answer phone. It's the counter force that's moving me forwards. Eight days until he picks me up in LA. And that makes him all the more real. After the craziness and "doing"-ness of these past days there is a real longing to curl up quietly alongside him, wrapped in my favourite pair of arms and just be. After single-handedly moving my belongings and navigating US gvt bureaucracy, there is a deep relief in knowing that soon someone will be carrying my suitcase, protecting me and I can step into the passenger seat.

So much to still do. And walking into my place (now minus fridge and dining room table) I freeze.

Embassy Day - minus one

My flat smells of rancid swede and carrot peel from last night's soup as I type one meter away from the garbage. Tomorrow is the long awaited for appointment at the American Embassy, but instead of neatly getting my documents in order, I'm living in artsy chaos with washing up stacked in my sink and my things from the day scattered all over the apartment. I like the mess. Tidiness would speak of efficiency. I'm too excited to be organised. After over a month's anxiety, I have the appointment and I'm almost home dry. The other all important task: removing items from my place and putting them in my suitcase to wheel away tomorrow to the car boot sale. And, of course, I could be advertising goodies on e-bay and gumtree, but I'm too happy to be organised. And on the excuses go. It's good to be a little paralysed, take this leaving slowly. I'd dreamed of the perfect leaving. Everything organised. Complete closure. But leavings were never designed to be clearcut, especially this one where I'll be flying in little over a week and only one person from work knows I'm leaving and I'm yet to purchase a plane ticket, sell my worldly goods, return my flat to the shell it once was, unpeel the layers of 49 months of life, part with it in my own way. But it will happen. Life has to go forwards.