
[Taken in Bournemouth, UK :: February 2008]Conversation between my husband and I, this morning in our kitchen:
Him: "We can make as much noise as we want!"
Me: "And I can run around naked!"
It was tempting to share just that and let everyone wonder what we were talking about. I even contemplated opening it up to interpretation, asking readers to take a stab at what event, interest or circumstance they thought might have inspired such an exchange. But instead, I'll share this story...
During the year of my divorce I was slightly homeless. I lived in five different places in one year - my house, my Swirly studio, a room in a friend's house, an apartment on a Montecito estate, and then finally, in my own cozy cottage behind the Santa Barbara Mission. In the midst of all this relocating, I also spent many nights with friends and experienced a period of time that taught me the art of receiving. Despite the fact that much of my world was crumbling, I felt supported, cared for and loved. After the worst of the storm, I told myself that if and when I had the opportunity to give back to those I loved - particularly in terms of providing a safe haven - I would do so.
Fast forward to today, when the conversation above took place. Because today is the first day our home is officially empty, and that is a statement I have not been able to make in five months. And I don't mean we've had a lot of house guests over the past five months, I mean we've had a lot of house guests as well as dear friends living with us. And a wedding reception! From the beginning of June until today, this house has been a haven for friends and family from all over the world, reaching such a fever pitch that I have actually had to tell a number of my dearest friends that we could not accommodate them.
Don't misunderstand me - my intention behind this story is not to complain. I am just sharing one specific facet of our life that has been an exercise in compassion, generosity, patience, mindfulness, setting boundaries, knowing my limits, and savoring joyous abundance. And recognizing that while I made a commitment to myself many years ago to create a home that would hold those I love with comfort and quiet, I need to find more pathways that will enable me to do this without inspiring my husband and I to move into a one-bedroom condo in Greenland where no one will want to visit.
It is that saying: Be careful what you wish for. The good news is that I have learned all too well the truth of that phrase, and I have developed a greater awareness of what wishes, intentions and personal commitments can create. Quite simply, they can create exactly what is envisioned. They can come true; they can become real.
So my vision today is to be in this home with my husband. Period. To run around naked with music blaring because I can. The time will come soon enough when we will feel ready to open our doors again, but for now, we're wrapping our arms around each other and curling up in the silence, letting this be a safe haven for our need for solitude, for space, for being.