Travel Dream Step 1: Sell House. Step 2: Gulp.

This past month, I’ve been busy. Busy making decisions. Busy crying. Busy letting go. Busy contacting realtors, friends, and others in the know about making big life changes. Busy realizing the amazing ease of becoming unencumbered, the astonishing strength of a support network that I’ve built while I wasn’t really watching.

I’ve decided to sell Whimsor. I feel sad and relieved and excited at the prospect. Sad to let go of this beautiful home that I put so much creativity and heart and self-expression into. Sad to turn away from the many wonderful projects I’d planned for the yard and interior. Sad to know that I have no control over what the next owner will do to the decor (so colorful and warm), to the surrounding woods and trees and stones (so sacred and shadowed), to the deer and racoons, hawks and owls that visit the property every day and night (so little space remaining for them already).

I feel relieved that soon I will no longer need to worry over the expense of the mortgage and the upkeep of roof, walls, and grounds. Relieved to let go of the myriad unstarted or semi-begun projects whose in-progress parts—purchases, sketches, scribbles of notes—have cluttered drawers, file folders, garage shelves, and a large part of the back of my mind for the past five years. Relieved to know that I can walk away from this custom home—a full, unique expression of my Self—without leaving my Self behind.

It’s that last prospect that holds the excitement of this choice. The awareness that my identity is no longer tied to Whimsor. I am not my home. My truest Self—joyful, creative, whimsical, laughing, adventurous—is with me wherever I go. Has, indeed, been calling me to my highest purpose, which has nothing to do with home ownership at this time.

This next phase of my life is about connection. About acknowledging the connection I have, always, with all others and all things as the God that we all are. This trip to Britain—closer than ever now that the house will be sold before I go—is my chance to experience that which I already know but have rarely practiced: how to lean upon a network of like-minded people (fellow TTouch practitioners, travelers, trekkers), upon the kindness of strangers, and upon the grace of a universe that always says “Yes” to any dream, to any hope, to any request. I get to practice asking others for help, for support, for directions, for lodging, for information, and for whatever else I’ll need as I travel day to day.

A Native American quote I once heard on NPR: “When you come to a chasm in life, jump. It’s not as far as you think.”

So here I am. At the chasm between home ownership and less encumbered living. Pause. Gulp. Take a deep breath. Jump. I’ll meet you at the other side.