The other night I had dinner with my Dad and showed him where I live, because you never know when someone will need to know that info.
As we were sitting on my couch (futon with a dent in the middle) my Dad mentioned that I should put pictures up on the walls.
I said, "I never move in. I never put down roots." The truth in my words surprised even me.
I've kind of always been of the mind that an apartment isn't really meant for people to visit. Parking can be a pain, it’s cramped, and growing up as a kid I was lucky to live in a house, as were all my friends. An apartment has always struck me as being a locker for your stuff where you sleep; just big enough to contain that which you need to survive. Apartments have served as way stations in my life. My current address is no exception.
Sometimes I sit in my apartment, looking around the small space and think about how well it fits me. Then I think about the heroin addict next door who attracts cops and paramedics on the regular, the young woman above me who stomps all day and night (but especially at 4:50am when she gets out of bed), the overflowing dumpsters, and all the other fun things that come with apartment living.
However, I am being called to put down roots. “A small house on an acre of land.” Is the refrain and has been getting louder and louder since my early 20s, and the yearning stronger with each passing year. I said to someone a while back that I wanted to wait for “him” to show up so we could do it together. Buy a house, go through all that life-building experience stuff together. It’s so pleasant, that building a life with someone. The problem is, I might be waiting forever and missing out on my life today because I am waiting on someone who may never show up.
I need to build my own life.
I have conversations with my Intuition, asking questions and receiving gut-level responses. I repeated that same response while sitting quietly in my apartment one night. “Small house, acre of land, and a partner to go with it.” The energetic response I received was, “You have to do it by yourself, but you will never be alone.”
When I daydream I always come back to a garden, inspired by thoughts of the gardens I have created and left behind. And a small house. And a greenhouse. And water catchment systems. And permaculture. It’s in my blood. It’s who I am. I’m no Pollyanna when it comes to these things; they take a lot of energy, effort, work, and upkeep. I've done them all before (mostly by myself even when I did have a partner). I have tried to fit my daydream visions into circumstance, and it didn't work out. Less Cinderella and the glass slipper, more Goldilocks and the "just right."
I have held my own seed in my hand for so long, waiting for the right moment to plant it and finally let me roots sink into the Earth. I have yet to come across that moment and allow myself to surrender to the soil (I originally typed soul, so there's that too), so I continue holding on to the seed until that day arrives.
I realize the Universe has been showing me all along that I need to find the place that calls me home and plant my seed there. And I have to do it on my own.