Two realtors were just here to evaluate our home.  They say it will sell.  The question is our timing, motivation, and what we hope to receive.  I feel ready.  I have flat boxes in the garage.  They put some together for me, and I come to this room, a room with a huge amount of books.  I find two that can easily go, and then get caught up in The Poetics of Space, The Classic Look at How We Experience Intimate Places  by Gaston Bachelard. I read:

Anne Balif: “Asking a child to draw his house is asking him to reveal the deepest dream shelter he has found for his happiness. If he is happy, he will succeed in deeply-rooted foundations.”  She goes on to describe what a drawing of a house reveals. I sit with this as I think of what this house reveals about me. This house is beautiful, loved, and cared for. It’s safe.  It’s protected us all these years.  It’s private.  We have wonderful neighbors.  Why are we moving?  I want to be closer to our grandson, and family.  That’s the door-opening key.  

And now I open On Art and Mindfulness by Enrique Martinez Celaya.  What sparks in this choice to move?  Am I lengthening the rays of my life like sunlight this time of year?  Lengthening a place on which to stretch and listen to the wind?  

From the book: Art reconciles the conceptual and the sensible and makes connections between ideas and world that are difficult to make otherwise. It reconciles aspects of experience that are rarely considered together. Take Michaelangelo’s Pieta: Is it marble? Is it death?  Is it loss? Is it compassion? The power of the sculpture rises from the co-existence of all these questions.

And this move.  Is it a sculpture that’s mine to mold and unfold?  

If I’m a river, does the river ask where it’s going?  It simply flows and navigates rocks and banks and eddies and either keeps going or stops.  And now today, my task is to move books like stones, to enhance the song my river currently sings, and see what comes.