Easter Sunday--Rebirth

Easter Sunday celebrates the resurrection of Christ.  Outside of the Christian context, this time of year represents the return of spring, the beginning of the growing season, and renewal of the year.  I always thought that the first day of spring ought to be considered the “new year” and that dawn should represent the start of any day.  This Easter morning (it is currently 5 AM CST), it is foggy and filled with birdsong.  The sky has not yet begun to lighten, but I can feel the dawn’s approach.  This morning, I will bless and consecrate this new home with sage and prayer.

My husband sleeps quietly in the back; my great gray cat, Rocky stands sentinel behind my computer screen, the little Siamese Sassy sleeping somewhere in a warm corner. The only sound is that of my fingers on the keyboard and the birds welcoming the day and seeking mates.  (Oh, and the Hum, of course—which thankfully is not as audible in here as it is in the house.)

Thursday, we moved the RV from the muddy yard into the solid street.  A well-placed phone call secured us an exemption from the parking regulations to facilitate our final relocation from our home on tierra firma to our new home on terra rota.

We spent the day moving little things, and Rick moved himself permanently into the RV.  I sat in the echoing room that was about to become my former office, while Rick held court.  All the friends that frequent our abode dropped in to chat with him.  Normally, they would pass by my open office door, say “Hello” or chat with me on the way in or out.  But Thursday, I was alone, like a ghost in my own house.  By early evening, I had had a few drinks, when I discovered that “everybody” had been here, but nobody had stopped in to see me.  I had a complete meltdown. 

Suddenly, I was abandoned—again.  I was alone—again.  He was sitting in the RV, laughing and talking with our friends and I was the one still working and, once again, left out.  Something inside snapped and I was suddenly crying hysterically and yelling about being forgotten.

God bless Rick.  Even though I was angry and yelling and crying all at once, he smiled sympathetically and made the right noises, and simply encouraged me to once-and-for-all, relocate my “office” into our new home.  Sniffling, scared, mad and sad all at one time, I listened to him, and the rest of the evening was spent feeling all these feelings and giving them vent.  Rick has always been wise enough to let me express my emotions, knowing that once given a good airing out, they will return soon enough to equilibrium.  I may have a solid (and solitary) moon in Capricorn, but I am an Aries after all.  An Aries with the perfect husband for me.

Yesterday, I spent some time listening to the Solfeggio frequencies to combat the depression working its way into my spirit.  Apparently, it worked.

I began in earnest to move all my office accoutrements to the RV.  File boxes of writing and Psycards things, office supplies.  I moved my full-color, three-way HP printer and secured it on an upper shelf.  The less-expensive-to-run second printer (also HP) will find its home on a shelf above the kitchen table—now my new office. 

Months of attempting to make this move resulted in redundancies, so I gathered all the office supplies and related items and put them out on the bed and began to sort.  After a couple of hours, I managed to put all my daily office supply needs in one carry-tray.  My current, in-progress, paperwork is in a small cardboard file holder next to it, also on the kitchen table.  Supplies like empty file folders and labels and such are on the little table between the guest chairs.  Other things, like printer ink and my CD and flash drive backup files are in the upper cabinet near the door. Packed full, too. 

The file boxes went to the granny (that big sleeping space above the driving compartment) with plastic buckets of clothes, art supplies and canvases, tool boxes of paints and drawing supplies. 

The same process yielded success with the closet full of tools and useful things, and the kitchen stuff (still in process).  We are cramped, but we are here, and the organization is progressing. 

We have discovered two new challenges—our blackwater tank is cracked from the winter’s cold, and therefore unusable (no toilet here, we have to run into the house), and the refrigerator has decided to be uncooperative and not keep cold.    Two more expenses and we’re not even out of the gate.    But the Universe will provide—it always has, in one way or another.

This morning, I feel renewed, I feel the promise of spring.  And I recall that I was born on Good Friday, and so this is my own birth-day season.  I welcome this birth and pledge to put my anxieties behind me.