The morning started quietly today. I peeked out the kitchen window, and saw the very manicured backyard – minus my stone circle – there before. Extremely short grass, being bathed with the morning rays of light, emphasizing both the green patches that the sprinklers manage to keep growing (and the shade of the tree helps along), and the browner patches of grass in the open part of the yard. The sun peeked through some darkish looking clouds, which made for some wonderful hues of light as the morning progressed. Now, a few hours later, the sun has changed the color of those clouds to the typical high, white, wispy-thin cotton trails that are indicative of a very hot day here in Texas.
Every morning for the past few weeks, I have either stepped out into my backyard, or stood at the dining room window overlooking the bird bath and silently projected my thought that my friends may want to find alternate places to find their food and water. I have no idea what the future holds in a few weeks when the new owners move in. For all I know, they will tear down the big tree and the two little trees in the backyard and install an in-ground pool – like most of the neighborhood already has. I feel its my obligation to project these messages to my little denizens that I have come to know through watching their daily dramas unfold at the birdbath. I have also spent a few times in meditation reaching out to the Spirits of Place that are here, and whispering my goodbyes into the air around them. For the most part, I’ve always been ignored – these times have been no exceptions.
I never really understood how traumatic an experience moving can be. I grew up in the United States military – moving was always something that could happen at any time. And sometimes it was a very quick process. Other times, it was a lot longer – more lead time towards the event, so things could be carefully packed away. I was far smaller, and way younger than I am now. My responsibility was to bring my Steiff bear Timothy with me, as well as any book I might want to read a few times over on the plane. I hated flying, even then. That was probably the most nerve-wracking thing I ever did during those trips. Making friends at a new place was never that difficult. Once the bicycle was unpacked, it was a matter of riding through the neighborhood a couple of times before the other kids realized there was someone new. Its a little different now that I am an adult. Its not as easy as getting in your car and circling the block a few times. There’s a whole different ritual where adults are concerned. I hate that. But that’s the way society has changed. We’ve become far more wrapped up in ourselves than we were before.
Yes, there’s a lot on my mind where this move is concerned.
But in the meantime, I continue to play with my furry girls, knowing that the move will be the most traumatic to them. After all, it is a very rare thing for them to be put in their cat carriers – and usually the end of that is a visit to the vet, not a favorite destination whatsoever. I know that I have a large responsibility to make them feel as comfortable and reassured as I can – both during the move process, and after they arrive at the new house. The first month-plus will be chaos as we unpack boxes, re-pack material for storage, and try to find the furniture locations that will work best to make the house comfortable. And all of that will be stressful on them as well. All three of them are very good barometers of emotion. If you are upset, and loud – Gizmo will be around. If you are feeling down – Shadow will be there. And Kaylee…well, she’s wherever I am. That’s my puppy dog. She might be a cat, but she certainly acts more like a dog.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect in all of this, is when I am looking at something or some situation – and trying to determine what I should do… its like a part of my Druidry studies kicks in. I worry and fuss over details that I had never considered before – because I am worried about how a lack of attention will affect someone else. Why else would I be worried about my little feathered friends finding another place to get their baths and seed? Or the worry I have for the squirrel attempting to forage food from other yards, and having to cross the neighborhood’s busiest street?
I know there’s not a lot I can really do – except not move. But consider how much of a physical and mental toll that long drive is doing to me now…that’s not an option, unless I can quit, which I do not want to do. After only a year, I am making a difference – I am providing numbers in a timely fashion to the Administration so that they can make timely decisions based on data trends. Its not always the most ideal situation…but its a place where everyone treats you like family, and are always willing to help out.
Yeah, its a rough decision to make – there are minuses to making the move, but the plusses far outweigh that. I am not sure what view I will have of the morning sun – but if it is obstructed, my neighborhood is quiet enough that morning walks before daylight will become a staple of my day.