I've spent a few years now in necessary insular protective mode, after a whole life of protecting myself to the point of isolation from many meaningful relationships out of fear. These last few years. I've spent time tearing down old things, sifting through the wreckage of my constructed self, destroyed by disaster. Now that the debris has settled and is mostly cleared, I am so grateful for that disaster. I am not living in a poorly constructed house anymore with leaks and lots of pests. I sleep under the stars for now, and have the free space to imagine what kind of dwelling I actually want. I have built lots of modern, spare, Frank Lloyd Wright inspired houses in my mind replete with lots of windows to let the outside in. I am imagining who I want to be, which is actually who I am meant to be. There is a sort of beauty in the process of dreaming, especially when there is the potential to inhabit those dreams.
Now comes the scary part. I have to actually gather the resources and start to build. Thankfully, my architect is far more talented than even Frank Lloyd Wright, far more inventive, playful, creative, and capable. And She makes beautiful, beautiful things. I am excited/scared of what this all means, and what it will require of me. I must not be afraid to use those stones unearthed in the back corner of the lot and cleared to make way for the heating system. They are beautiful, and will make a beautiful feature wall in the foyer. See how the veins run through them? Evidence of turmoil from eons ago, a reminder of what upheaval can yield. I don't want to forget that.
Mostly, I relish the light that will pour in from the windows. There will be more glass than wall, really. That's the way I want it. I want to live soaking in the magnitude of the beauty that surrounds me. I want to invite people into my space, then allow them into the house from which they can see to advantage those vistas I most cherish. Welcome, I will say. See the beauty? Yes, the structure is beautiful, but just look how it interacts with the beauty around it? Doesn't it put both the dwelling and the surroundings into better context? Don't they each enhance the beauty and depth of the other?
But risk is involved. I am more willing to take that risk recently. I am giving myself permission to take chances, and be vulnerable. The part of me that has always dreamed of jumping out of a plane (with a parachute of course) has now been given voice. OK, fearless me. Its time to count to ten, check your chute and JUMP!