An Earthquake in the Heart

How Does Anyone Survive Relocating?  

              It is beastly. It is an earthquake in the heart. 
Thankfully, angels come to help you keep your balance! 

I have never moved before except to get married. Almost 40 years ago the stars in my eyes completely blocked any pain of leaving my childhood home. Since then, my friends and family members have moved. And, I'm sure I didn't pay enough attention. I read about moving in novels, of course. But, thought novelists exaggerate the inner upheaval for dramatic effect.  

I figured the farmer and I were solidly put on this land; we would never move so why pay close attention to something I'd never have to experience?  

In the recent past, a good friend talked about the struggles they had in moving. My compassion was so heartfelt; I prayed daily for them. And still I had no idea what it was like. Humanly, it's impossible to go into the inner landscape of another. The best we can offer is companionship and empathy. And soup. 

Angels brought us soup. I hope to do the same during others' earthquakes. 

Somewhere in my becoming more alive and awake, I signed up for a 'Yes!' to life. I want to be fully present to what is. See, feel and honor exactly what is unfolding in life. Often it takes effort to stay present, not sugar coat, minimize, cover up, suppress or blind myself to life. 

Someone hinted I'm too raw; I drag things out too long. At the time, I waffled between feeling chastised and compassion for him. Another asked me why I'm documenting a 'goodbye to the farm' and 'the last this or that' - why am I looking back so much? She could not do the same as it would be too painful. She speaks some truth. It is painful. 

Grandies play in a newly emptied closet. Note
the flashlight hanging by a bungee cord.

Most of us, including me at times, bulldoze our way through change. Or distract ourselves. Change is so unsettling! I love how children play their way through change. 







Being the queen of post-it notes, of finding beautiful answers long after the question, I wish I'd said, "I don't think of it as looking back, or wallowing. I'm standing firmly in the present moment, in the unfolding. My heart is open, undefended; I'm sorrowing and celebrating.  My family is deeply honoring our life together in this place. Our work on this farm, the 4, almost 5 generations of family here. All the sweat, the hopes, the birthing, the dying, the potato digging, steer wrangling, goat milking, hay bale throwing, and egg gathering. The lost dreams, the anger, joy, beauty and stink.... everything.

Four heads watch the grand piano dismantling! Sometimes
angels wear boots and work pants.

I can't do my celebratory bonfire idea, where we invite everyone who ever set foot on this place and loved it with us, to circle around the fire and sing, cry, reminisce, honor the changes. So Facebook photo albums and this blog become my bonfire. Everyone who ever loved this place is invited to gather with us.  

I'll end with a lovely quote by Parker Palmer:   

I know there are folks who don't want to contemplate the end of life, or any sort of loss, before they get there. For them it drains joy from the present moment.  For me, it's the opposite. Every reminder that there will be a last this and a last that — including a last moment — deepens my gratitude for this moment and helps me "be here now."   (http://www.onbeing.org/blog/parker-palmer-the-last-things-to-give-up/8381)


Yes!  Oh yes. 

Goodbye to the farm!     Stunning photo by Krista Stolzfus from Higher Focus Studio