night number one, upstate take two

i am sitting in a purple room,

reminiscent of the purple i grew up with.

the light shade coloring the walls i spent as little time as possible in.

was the color purple associated with too much femininity?

did i not feel comfortable in the space?

purple used to signify royalty.

purple is the color of my hair now.

i don't hate the color purple. it is not too feminine.

i did not in fact feel comfortable with the space.

it never felt like Home.

it never felt like what i envisioned for myself.

i'm sitting in a purple room,

upstate on the first night of my second annual winter retreat where my siblings and i go upstate a few hours away for a couple days to get away from the city for a little bit.

the drive up was fun and we had a good time jamming in the car together,

though we did experience some…discomfort in a gas station when trying to purchase lighters

(i love the fun whimsical graphics on some of them) and i feel like collecting meaningful items along the way and during adventures is a good method in capturing and preserving the feelings for as long as my memory remains.

i have been thinking about "home" for a while now,

as i have long since outgrown the one with my mother - but not yet found a place to plant the seeds i want to cultivate.

it isn't a matter of living with my mother, it is a matter of living surrounded by the memories.

it is hard to exist in such close proximity to all of the relics, the baggage - literal and physical - that i haven't unpacked yet, or will trap me in the loop of what if or maybe if i do this.

it's also a matter of realizing that we all do have a finite amount of time,

some people are afforded more resources to prolong that span,

but what we all share is our mortality.

i was reminded of that when i learned of the passing of thich naht hanh,

one of my first mindfulness instructors through the form of various books of his.

your true home is in the here and the now.

i am learning how to make home within the present moment.

how to ease myself into the fact that there are things i can't change and to let go of the grudges, resentment, and guilt that i may be harboring for the things i did when i didn't know better.

i am learning how to be gentle with myself,

because i have always been my most brutal critic.

i want to build a home for myself,

somewhere i feel warm inside and out.

i want to construct a space,

that i know is safe because i cultivated it.

there has to be plants,

vines stretching across the walls.

there has to be roots,

in deep pots that protect the foundation of our greenery.

there has to be a beanbag,

so that i can lay haphazardly,

and surrender into softness,

a safety that envelops me when i need it.

there has to be my collections,

my most precious ones,

the moments that i keep tucked, folded, secret,

the memories i lock,

because with great love comes the potential for greater pain.

TBC.