We await things. Such things are wanted, or wished, or prayed for. Such things are eventualities or expectations. Such things are the very vitality with which we greet our day, even if it is the awaiting of the morning coffee, or the undeniably electric-alarm of the bedside tick-tock-clock. We await with patience, or we await anxiously. And finding peace, within the space of waiting, becomes the very art of living. All is a passage between here and there, and in the very moments of breathing en route there is life sufficient to be enjoyed while we wait. (Try holding your breath overlong; air quickly becomes a primary objective!)
So, the new house should let us breathe again. When sufficiently squished into a cage of one’s own makings one adjusts to the distances and the noises and even the awkwardness of always having to move several things first in order to get at the thing, for lack of space, packed away. So too in one’s soul. If enlightenment is freedom from a house of many rooms such that all of everything is view-able and accepted and integrated and accommodated, then being in a body does not easily allow for such completeness. One likes privacy. One likes separations and divisions and even closets. One likes to organize and to have at one's disposal. One likes to like where one is living. At least, I do.
But reliance on geography, on spatial co-ordinates, or even on others for one's happiness can be debilitating. We are best off to be self-actualized sufficient to make our own choices without dependence, without attachments so strong as to glue oneself to the sticking place without courage enough, or even interest enough to venture further afield. (That “rolling stone gathers no moss” analogy was for a time when someone else thought it important to put up with one's lot.) If paradigm shifts are to be made it is necessary to fragment the mold, step off the plinth, disintegrate from the rigidity of structures supporting our statues of perception such that one may indeed be free. (Or do I seek mere validation for my own wanderlust? Am I really excusing the abandoning of the ship, the friends, the expected course? Does one really know oneself?)
The JoHari Window concept has it that the four quadrants of the Self are such that one knows things about the self that none other knows; that there are things about me obvious to thee and me; that there are things you see about me that I do not see; and that there are things in either of us that neither of us see. So … One moves geographically, physically, spiritually, even conceptually, yet takes one's four panes with oneself! After all, which of us is so clear about that which we await from day to day that there is no room for yet more exploration?
And yes, nothing comes without a cost. Nothing is totally ‘right’. Perfection is very much in the eye of the beholder. The brand new anything soon enough gets nicked. We find fault and dissatisfaction and un-comfortableness. And some of us move, replace, reorganize, adjust, accommodate, accept, include, go with the flow and otherwise keep on living! Others? Well, they do what they do. One ultimately, in whatever capacity, takes care of the self within the limitations of choice and affordability and eventuality and circumstance and volition. So then, as we await the finality of our time on this earth, some of us move about, a lot! Some, a few times. And others stay put. It all is a matter of choice and opportunity and circumstance and That Within, the which cannot quite wait, but creates chaos in order to bring about yet another order. The ‘new’, it seems, whether out there or within here or over where you are, awaits. It always awaits.