excavating our identity

I've heard people say your life passes before your eyes when you believe you are about to die. I haven't got any first hand experience on that front but I can say it does the same (at a much slower pace) when you move homes too.

Besides the grunt work of moving furniture and the self flagellation that comes with seeing just what fell behind the bureau...there's the fumbling excavation through books, boxes and the far corners of basements and closets. Amid the junk and dust bunnies are photos, mementos, scraps of paper with ideas and dreams, and ugly clothes that I used to love. Each piece holds a story about who I was and my response subsequently tells me a bit about who I believe I have become.

Not quite sure what I think or feel about it all just yet. Too physically and emotionally tired right now. Maybe in a week or two.

One thing I can say though, is that I sure have remained consistent - consistent with my strengths as well as my limitations. Consistent with my difficulty in letting go of some things. And consistent with what I believe will make me happy:  a community of friends, time in nature, art making, facilitating and partaking in meaningful conversations and actions, writing, a place in the country, feeling like I'm making a difference .... 

Yup, there may be more challenges than usual at the moment, and I may have to follow some different paths along the way, but my roots (values) and my fruits (dreams/wishes/goals) seem to remain largely the same. I am who I am.