Day 23: stream of consciousness

In a dream last night, I was back in Savannah, Georgia, in my old room. I loved that room. It had a big window, lots of sun, a place to practice yoga, a little wooden desk, an old book case. Lots of patterns. I loved that house. It had a record player, two lazy lions (kittens) scampering around, weird art, weird books, dinner parties, exposed pipes (on purpose), no TV, a shared garden in the back with lots of basil, and two smart roommates who were some of the greatest gals ever. It had such good energy–and I don’t say that because I’m a yoga teacher, even normal people would say that–a super feminine, kick-ass kind of energy.

In my dream I was standing in my room, but some other girl had moved in, except all of my stuff was still there. The new girl had added some more books, some shoes–but everything else was mine.

I woke up this morning, rolled over to side of my bed on my belly, my head almost hanging off, and I see a large suitcase full of clothes and books and stuff, that is sitting on top of a large pile of clothes and books and stuff. Mind you, this is the side of my bed that you can’t see from the doorway and doesn’t keep me from walking around my room too much, but…yes. I have something to admit. And it’s kind of embarrassing. I stared at the pile of my stuff and thought,

I haven’t fully unpacked from when I moved back from Savannah. 

Even worse–I moved back over a year ago. And even worse worse–I tell myself almost every free hour or afternoon that I have, yes, this will be the day that I unpack.

Let me explain. Wait, no. I don’t need to. The fact of the matter is that I waited over a year to unpack because it meant 1. I am officially living at my Mom’s, which I’m forever grateful for, but moving out and then back in is never fun and 2. coming home from Savannah was the hardest time of my life, for lots of reasons, and it meant letting go of/revisiting/facing/accepting/forgiving/all the other hard stuff ya gotta do to get on with your life. And maybe I just wasn’t ready.

But today, for whatever reason, it happened. I started by tiding up my room–picking up clothes, doing laundry, making the bed. But when I was done, or as done as I usually am, something felt wrong. The big pile of Savannah peeked out from the corner of my bed. It felt bigger than usual, like it took up more space. I went downstairs and tried to forget about it.

But I eventually came back up, and found myself standing over the pile, looking down at it. On the top was a t-shirt I haven’t worn since probably 2008. I picked it up, folded it, put it on my bed. I did that with the next most superficial item–a pair of yoga pants with a hole in the butt (I don’t know) and fraying pant legs. I put them in the trash can. And then a book, The Anatomy of Spirit, I put that on my bookshelf. Next, a folder full of yoga teacher training notes–I put those in my yoga binder. A 2010 day planner, dresses, a jewelry box, candles, a pack of bobby pins. I either put my belongings into the trash, their correct place in my room, or stack them up to give to charity.

Eventually, little by little, after a few hours and Pandora stations later–I unpacked.

Okay–so not entirely, I still have a few things to sort through, but I feel…good, yes, but also tired. It was time, and I was ready to unpack, but…that kind of stuff is draining. So many memories. So many smells. So many little various pockets of energy getting unearthed, experienced, and then put away, thrown away, or given away. That’s a lot. Reliving past emotions, roles, moments…what a close to your bones experience. I’m glad I did it.

I’ve never really felt grounded here in the Bay Area. It always seems like when I’m here I’m transitioning, either moving in or moving out, coming home from a climbing trip or leaving. I get these little odd jobs, in fear of getting too grounded here, and I don’t know where that fear comes from. I don’t like the city, not at all, and when I say city I don’t mean San Francisco, I mean anywhere within a ten minute drive to a McDonalds. But in reality, this place is good, close to climbing, fun yoga, smart people, and I know I could make things happen here, but for some reason I don’t want to be a part of it.

Ah. Is that a little clarity I see?

Clean, clear out, remove, strip down, cleanse, detox. Unpack.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. laura
    Oct 23, 2012 @ 22:07:35

    thank you, for sharing your dream and experiences. i can relate, fully. i currently live with a suitcase beside my bed… or box of unpacked something somewhere in my home. it’s a sense of my free-spirit needing to know i can go at any time… and that i am prepared. not necessarily packed for the next journey, yet ready. a full settling in would mean commitment, one that i’m not sure i’m ready for here, now.

    Reply

  2. Georgie Abel
    Oct 24, 2012 @ 22:25:39

    Hey Laura,
    Thank you so much for your nice comment. Yes, I can relate to always wanting to know that I can leave at any time. Commitment is scary, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that either 🙂

    Reply

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