The adventure is underway.
The house is for sale. And I am in the middle of the process of examining everything I own (once again), looking at it to decide whether it is extraordinarily valuable to me, and because of that status, should travel with me on my adventure, or if it is merely very important, and so should be stored until I’ve decided where on Earth to land and plant myself. At this point, I’ve got everything I own whittled down to that which is at least meaningful and important to me, so I am now giving things away that reside in that category.
Every stick of furniture will either be sold or given away.
The only things going into storage, are my paintings, blank canvases, easels, and all painting supplies, books (only a few will make it into the car with me), clothes and boots/shoes that I will take pleasure in wearing again, kitchen equipment and tools that I use a lot, and a few other meaningful items.
There are a few things that have lived with me for a very long time, but have always resided in a drawer. One such is the compact case in the photograph (above and right here).
This case is something my mother passed along to me. She had given it as a Christmas gift to her mother, purchased with earnings from her very first job. It is beautiful and means a lot to me. My mom’s Mom, after whom I was named, Regina Reynolds McNulty, was one of the rare people in my life who took the time to look into my eyes and see me. The real me. Not just a projection of what she wanted me to be. She had a spirit like mine.
So, this compact case with it’s chamois pouch is both meaningful and extraordinarily important. I’ve cleaned Nana’s face powder from it’s interior and it will serve a new purpose as the holder of the cards I’ll give to old friends and new who’d like to stay in touch while I’ve no actual address. The new cards list my cell phone, email, and website address on the front with a photo of “My Incandescent Wild Soul” painting, while the reverse side displays five recent paintings, one of which is not complete yet.
The painting of the flame colored lily above, entitled “What Would Love Do,” while not yet finished, must travel with me. This is why. My three major travel companions, from moment to moment right now, and on this adventuring with me are: 1. My intuition. 2. The question (whose answer must include me), “What would Love do?” and 3. Radical Trust.
The part of me that craves safety keeps wanting to plan this adventuring. Then my three travel companions crop up in mind and remind me of who I am, and they ask me kind of a snotty question: how can something be an adventure if you know what is going to happen? That makes me laugh out loud, and I step into Radical Trust.