It's Not Sad, Only Temporary

I would like to address a couple of the comments I have received since openly announcing to the world my grim state of financial affairs and potential homelessness. More than once, people have said how sad my circumstance is. Call me crazy, but all I see is good fortune and abundance. I have been given the opportunity to spend time on myself and focus on some deep emotional healing. This has also given me the opportunity to work on a very time consuming project that may lead to some financial abundance. But at the very least, I have had adventures that would be impossible otherwise. Other than the cat companion I had for three years, it’s just me (and maybe a few of my demons). There’s no children, no “significant other,” or ailing parent. There’s no crippling disease or any reason why I can’t get out there and make the money it would take to save this ship from sinking. Oh, but there is a reason - I insist on doing it my way. Not necessarily the smart or easy way, but I refuse to be another desperate zombie going through the motions of “what we’re supposed to do,” to be successful, which in turn should make us happy; because that doesn’t make me happy. I’m still not entirely sure what DOES make me happy, but as a result of getting tangled in this snowball of investments and wreckage, I have been afforded the luxury of time to find what might make me happy. From field experience and research, I’ve found that teaching, dancing, hula hooping and writing make me happy; all the while bringing a little happiness to the people in my classes. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured how to use my talents to any financial advantage. (Yet.) But none of this is sad. It has all been a blessing.

I have been on evacuation stand-by for roughly 20 months. Nothing is certain, except that this place is the closest thing to “home,” that I have ever known; more so than the house where I grew up. Even if I leave the Tree House only to get the mail, there is an instant relief when I return and open my front door. This is my Home, my nest and there is a loving comfort that cradles me every time I enter.

One night, just over a year ago, I realized that time was running short here. There was no way I would be able to keep up with the mortgage, taxes and maintenance fees - not to mention all the elements of a home that need constant repair and replacement. It was early evening, the sky had wispy clouds and strokes of blue, gold and pink. The trees across the canal looked especially green and camouflaged an elegant blue heron. I stepped out on to the balcony, sat in my deluxe camping folding chair with the built-in foot rest and cup holders and rolled myself a cigarette. My movements were slow - this was my meditation for the evening. Consciously, I drew each breath in from my tobacco and said farewell to every tree and every animal that lived in them. I memorized how the water rippled on the canal and the air felt on my skin. The day was coming soon that I would have to leave and I wanted to be ready. In my mind I decided, “This is my choice to leave." And so there was peace.

Since that night, I have flip flopped like a regular John Kerry (no offense, just thought it would be a vivid reference) as to whether or not I would be able to save 105 2E. Never did I not want to keep my home - I’ve just done my best to be realistic, practical. It’s been like that on again off again relationship. You know, you’re crazy in love with that awesome person but sometimes love and comfort aren’t enough to keep it together.

Each day that I am here, in the Tree House, is a gift. It has been especially cold these past few weeks and that makes Home even more comforting. Now, there is very little furniture inside; on the balcony only my pink bicycle and Tibetan prayer flags. (The previously mentioned camping chair, went out with almost all my other possessions exactly one year ago.) Yet as soon as people enter my Home, what I hear most often is, “Cozy.” And it is. A couple months ago, I got a little country style kitchen table, the kind with the white tile; it’s nestled into the corner under the window, across from the fridge with two chairs at right angles. Someone moving out of a friend’s building gave it to her and her to me. In the hallway to the living space, across from the archway to the kitchen, is an embellished tapestry of Ganesh, the most beloved saint of Hinduism. He blesses me every time I leave and greets me every time I come home. Inside the living space, I’ve made a desk out of cinder blocks and a sawed down, interior door. My ex-boyfriend gave me this ergonomic chair; the kind with the big, blow up Pilates ball in the center. He also salvaged a wheeling cart with three exposed shelves from a friend that was going to throw it away. The desk, cart and a contemporary “bronzed” lamp, make for my “office.” Just past my desk that is slightly angled from the wall are two Persian “looking,” rugs. They look like a million bucks but are Home Depot fakes. My friend Chase, who lived two buildings away, left them for me when he moved to Boca with his girlfriend. The rugs cover the width of the living room. Chase also left his daughter’s twin bed, which I put to good use. My Moroccan family gave me a handmade, low profile, leather ottoman from Fez. It was stuffed with tapestries and wool. One of the pieces from inside this ottoman was actually a duvet cover. A deep olive green, satin cover made for a queen size duvet. So, I wrapped the twin size bed with some old blankets to give it a little softness and stuffed it all into the duvet cover. Ziiiip. Threw on a couple yellowish/gold pillows I reclaimed from Will’s place upon my return to the states and viola, I have a Moroccan lounge! Included in the “lounge” is a money tree that I nursed back to health from the ex’s house. And the floor lamp my friend Karen salvaged from bulk pick up. The bolt that connected the lamp’s top to the bottom was stripped, so I fixed it with copious amounts of wood glue, vice grips and patience. The television and the two-in-one DVD, VCR player were also hand-me-downs. (Or are they on “loan?” I can’t remember at the moment.) They both sit on a coffee table that I’ve had for years; another one of the many pieces that I gave to Chase when I left the country, ne’er-to-return-again-but-did. He was very understanding when I reclaimed whatever his cats didn’t spray in my two month absence. Then there’s my guitar, a narrow, old wooden, Italian chair that was my grandmother’s, a spindly end table from 1950-something with the veneer peeled off and a few original art pieces from Chase and another super talented friend.

A few times, it’s been tempting to add more comforts to the place where I finally found Home. Especially when I see an undiscovered treasure from Goodwill or a rock bottom sale at Ikea or a post from FreeCycle announcing a most perfect love seat free for the taking. But then I remember, my time is limited here. There is an exciting journey soon ahead and I prefer to travel light. And that’s not sad, nope. Maybe, as a result of these circumstances, I’ll even finally find my happiness. Don’t you see? The possibilities are endless! Well, except for the possibility of getting another loan anytime soon....