And so, looking for some sort of cosmic answers to mortal events, I took Mari up on the offer on having my astral birth chart read. The theory behind it is that the position of sun, moon and planets at the time of birth influences who we are and why we have chosen to walk down certain paths. The chart doesn’t try to predict the future or give you lottery numbers, but it tries to explain why you are who you are. In an aim to perhaps try to understand why I keep hitting the same walls, I thought it was worth a shot to look up at the stars and find some answers that the Earth wasn’t providing.
Some answers I found, some things hit the bull’s eye and had me marveling at how accurately they described particular character traits, others had me thinking perhaps the stars didn’t know it all either.
Two years ago, suffocated by life, I put all my belongings in a storage unit and decided the nomad lifestyle was for me to embrace. For two years it didn’t seem to stop, and I felt I could go anywhere on a whim. Now, two years later, my stars (or planets, I don’t really remember which one) have changed, and they are guiding me now to a complete change of structure. Everything that is to come need to break through what my life has been until now.
And so, like everything in my life, unassumingly and unexpectedly, I was forced into a permanent address – for the first time in 10 years. When tallied up like that I can’t help but feel grateful for all the wanderings I’ve done, those whom I’ve met, and the places I’ve seen. Without even realizing it, “now” arrived at the right time as I’ve been longing to slow down, to breathe in, and to move forward with sense.
There’s something utterly delicious about a place to call your own. I didn’t know I wanted this until I started craving drawers a few months ago; not the piece of furniture itself but the ability of knowing where your things are and that you won’t have to move them. In case you were wondering – lifestyle in reserves doesn’t accommodate drawers.
It’s not about how many things we have, or the silverware we need to store, or the 20 or so sweaters I refuse to give up. It’s about travelling the world and finding a safe place, a den, a hideout, a sanctuary where to retreat into when life (and now coronavirus) gets too much. It’s a safe place for dancing in the kitchen, cooking dinner with daisies and recharging after giving away our energy to others.
The shoebox started like that and because of that. It has been an indefinite form in our minds because – how do you imagine something you’ve never had before as an independent adult? No, it started out as a strategical move, a backup plan we didn’t think we would ever need. Now that the Universe has thrown us in this direction, our blue Aladdin rug, all the large sized coffee cups and undoubtedly all the plants I will end up killing with my black fingers, are happy to finally have what’s been missing all these years: life outside a box.
It doesn’t mean giving up a mobile lifestyle or the sense of adventure and the need to wander. Instead, it projects the comfort of having something to go back to. After all these years I have finally come to peace with the need to have a place to come back to, an anchor to keep us centered and a tiny geographical spot I can call my own.
It took a while for this to manifest and for us to want, but now that it has, it feels like the right time. On this, the stars were right all along, I’m home now.