My New Home

"TERRITORY" 6' x 5', 1985, wool flannel and pigment


Joseph Campbell once said that in looking back over his long life, he saw that the chapters opened up with such perfection in their support of his life well lived.

It is 1:00 in the morning here in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

A snowstorm left a foot of new and sparkling whiteness in the night outside my front door.

My dog is snoring.

The walls are a pale shade of fleshy-pink structolite plaster.

I walked ten feet from my bed to the kitchen to make tea and another 5 feet to the computer.

The quiet in the night is luxurious and heavy with the snow.

It’s warm and I am perfectly content.

I love my new home.

It interested me that I heard few comments from friends helping me move about how great this place is.

I started doubting it myself.. suggestible as I am at times of big newness and the insecurities that go with that.

I wondered if people thought I’d feel deprived going from a larger and very hip place to this little retreat?

Did they feel sorry for me because of it’s size and my having let go of so much stuff to make this move?

Were they worried about my well being with new and unfamiliar obstacles to navigate?

The me that sits here tonight writing is one very content woman.

I am bored by stuff.

Anything ‘extra’ doesn’t belong in my new life.

I have already made mistakes in choosing some things I needed for this place.

Since this is an ESSENTIAL spot, meaning each and every THING I invite in must serve me well and not detract in any way from my task at hand which is healing, I see I’ve already made choices from the old Cathy, not the new girl.

It is sssssssooooooo obvious when I choose incorrectly.

And isn’t that GREAT?

I am being gentle with myself and putting that pesky judge to bed and choosing again.

Easy. No fuss.

And now, into this good night I go.. back to bed to sleep and dream of the gifts I am giving myself of beauty and space and light and birds outside and a big brick porch to entertain those I love and a good and uneven unpaved road and the luxury of feeling safe and warm and grateful for the skills I have learned to follow where I am prompted to go and go there needing no agreement.

Night, night…



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