My dear readers who have followed this blog from the beginning (about nine months ago) know that I started it, at least in part, to chronicle my journey from living extremely lightly on the land to having a home. A case could be made that I've really never had a permanent home as an adult, and certainly I have never owned one. I won't go over old ground, except to say for newer readers that in recent decades it has been the perfect storm of $10-an-hour jobs, not feeling at home anywhere, somehow not imagining a home without a husband, and, eventually, not feeling I deserved one or that I could ever afford one. Once you head far enough down that road, turning the corner really can't be done well without some help on the divine plane.
So another outcome of my retreat the other day was this: I sat down and sketched out a blueprint of my home. It flowed from my pen as if I had been living in it all along: the library whose shelves go wall-to-ceiling, the formal living room, the comfortable "open concept" kitchen/dining space, the master bedroom, art studio and even the small outside guest house. I mean, I can see it as clear as day. I imagine choosing paint colors, shopping for antiques and floor coverings, and feeling fabric swatches. I imagine walking barefoot on soft carpets and painting in my studio and picking herbs in the garden for cooking dinner. I imagine sitting on the deck with my laptop, writing. I imagine the sound system playing music by Tallis and Howells. I imagine the neighborhood and the sounds from the street. I am happy being in the house alone, but know it would be a welcoming space for either an eventual partner or guests.
This is truly a miracle. Unprecedented. The image of this home has been with me several days now, getting clearer by the day. I cannot consider what Mike Dooley calls "the cursed hows." If I focus on how many lifetimes it would take me now -- at 60 -- to "earn" such a house, the picture will disappear completely. So I'm just focusing on the fact that "my house" is making me smile. It's warm and beautiful and inviting. And I am grateful. Maybe the encouraging message I received the other day opened my heart to the idea of being worthy of a home base from which to use all my gifts. Maybe, as with everything on the Liz path, it had to start from within. It had to start with a blueprint.
