Expect them. Appreciated them. Remember them during times of darkness or trouble.
Miracles are real. Miracles happen.
Every. Single. Day.
I haven't written much over the past six weeks due to the little earthquake/miracle in my life: finding and purchasing a house, and the attendant culling, packing, and moving that has precipitated this new phase of my life.
If I had been able to write during these weeks, I am not sure what I would have reported, other than a feeling of being gob smacked by life. I had a hard time lifting my jaw off the ground.
I did tell you I felt as though I had been shot out of a cannon - with everything moving more quickly than I could possibly process or understand. And that is how this smear of days has felt to me.
Impossible to take in. Strange. Surreal. Dreamlike.
I arrived in Santa Fe last September 12. It feels like a month has passed during these short, sleepless, blue-skied days. I walked through the house just after arriving to be sure it was as I saw it that first time in late July, and then I sat in a state of weariness all day Sunday, waiting for the appointment to sign the final paperwork on Monday September 14.
After I signed a hundred pounds of loan documents at the title company, my realtor drove me back to the bed and breakfast to collapse, again.
I graded a few journals, answered student emails, made some calls to set up internet access at the new house, but mostly I just sat looking at the sky and trees, willing myself to drink up the miracle I'd just experienced.
In April, a friend of mine sent me my solar return chart for the year.
I remember snorting when I read that I would buy a house this year, and that it would happen suddenly, unexpectedly, out of nowhere.
I tossed the report aside on my bedside table and fell asleep after reading it.
By the next day, I'd forgotten it.
Fast forward eight weeks, and that promised home was no longer a daydream.I went back and re-read the solar return chart, absolutely astonished.
Fast forward another twelve weeks, and I am sitting inside my new bedroom, looking out at the oak and pine trees in my backyard, watching my dog run there, everything dappled with morning light.
And all along the way, there were signs.
Everywhere.
First, a pigeon feather, which a local shaman told us meant I was 'heading home.'
On the trip to find the house, crows and a coyote crossed the highway in front of us. Music came up randomly on the radio that seemed to be especially tailored for me: Leave This Town by Daughtery and Someday by Rob Thomas.
We met amazing, kind, open people. Everywhere we went.
Unknowingly, I'd chosen for us to stay at an Airbnb that belonged to an astrologer who is friends with an astrologer I follow on Facebook, Anne Ortelee. Her weekly weather was instrumental in getting me to take this leap of faith when I did.
"No matter what this week, choose to follow your heart, not your fear."Those words still ring in my ears.
The fact that my friend, Lea, offered to drive me to Santa Fe because I don't own a car was also a sign of positive assistance from the universe.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
There were so many moments of grace on our trip. There is no logical explanation for them, other than it was blessed from start to finish.
The fact that I found a realtor who has been such a godsend to me was a sign of the light that surrounded this endeavor.
She's taken such good care of me through this whole process (which is daunting by the way). She gave me rides and bought me a bottle of Shiraz and hard cider and kombucha and green power drinks. She's patiently talked to me on the phone and answered all my questions, holding my hand through everything.
And I feel like I've made my first friend. We have so much in common.
Signs are everywhere if you open your eyes to see them.
During the final scary week of the move, signs included finding Thoriaz, the rune representing strength and protection in my bedside table drawer, along with a postcard of a Goethe quote just about the time I was shitting my pants in total fear. I found $12.25 in my pants the next day; I hadn't worn those pants since last winter. The address at the new house is 1225.
On the house itself, the house numbers have lotuses on either end of them. The lotus represents the simultaneity of cause and effect in Buddhism because it blooms and seeds at the same time. This house was built in 1985, the year I converted to the practice of Buddhism.
It felt, at every turn, that I was guided to this house.
Every time we hit a snag, something turned to make the impossible, possible.
I know I had a boatload of folks who were praying for my success and happiness and protection. And I will be forever grateful to them.
Most of all - besides my mom, who agreed to embark on this adventure with me - I am absolutely grateful to my friend, J, who helped me in every possible way, even knowing that it meant that I would be moving 500 miles away from her and we'd miss each other like hell. (We've already planned all the fun we're going to have next summer when she visits for three weeks!)
J helped me run errands. She bought me lunch. She gave me a gift bag at the airport.
And if that wasn't enough, she drove my mom and my pets from Phoenix to Santa Fe in a rental van filled with suitcases, cleaning supplies, potted plants, food, coolers, and snacks - the day after she'd picked up the first rental van and a woman slammed into her on the way home, making an illegal left turn in front of her. She was bruised and burned by the airbag, but she made the trip without complaint.
I am blessed to know such a kickass human being. Truly. How did I get so lucky?
This tender and bruising week, I became a Santa Fean.
This has been a dream of mine since 1996.
My high school boyfriend once told me, years ago, he thought I would be right at home here. He knew me better than anyone at the time, and he was right.
The first time I visited in 1996, was for a "Creativity and Madness" conference just before I started graduate school. I fell in love with this little city. The second time I visited in 2004, it simply reminded me of that fact. When I visited in April of this year to teach creative writing at the prison, again I recognized a feeling of sweet affinity. And then in July when I looked at houses, I knew in my bones that this was the place I am meant to be.
I have no idea how the coming months will affect me. I do, however, know that I have found a sweet spot for myself. I can feel it.
I am relaxing. The swelling and tension and exhaustion are easing.
I've found my place in this world and it feels good.
© 2015 Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved
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