I love moving. Gypsy blood fo sho.
I had a dream last night that my mom and I were back visiting a lovely place we used to live, Fall City, Washington. But the small adorable town was now a huge post apocalyptic city, over run by scary unseen things and terrified people. The river (as it would do almost every year) was flooded up almost over the road. I felt like I knew where to go but nobody would listen to me, not even my mom. (Which makes sense).
So I wake up on this beautiful Mother’s Day morning early enough for an hour of peace to read and think (and apparently write) on my blanket, in my tree fortress backyard.
Randomly, here is what I read,
“When you live several years in any certain house or town or locality, you make a spiritual self belonging to that locality. Every house, tree, road or other object you have long been in the habit of seeing there, has a part of that self in thought attached to it. Every person who knows you there has in his or her mind the self you make there…..You return to such a place after a long absence. You have during that absence changed radically. You bring with you a different mind, different cells. You are in reality a different person.”
Interesting. I have experienced that many times in going back to visit old places I have lived. Maybe thats why I love moving so much. The new chapter, the adventure, the amount of growth and character building that comes with it. You are literally moving forward in life. Did I mention the adventure part?
I really have much more to say on this subject but I have to go cuz little Logan bear (6) just came out with homemade Mother’s Day gifts! My favorite!
Talk amongst yourselves….