acclimate

Sometimes you just need to find a place to burrow. somewhere to tuck in and survey your surroundings...or rest...or be watched over. sometimes you just need to give in.

having recently relocated with my furry beasts (and pole soon to follow) to lovely new surroundings, i'm wrapping around what it means to step into somewhere new, to look around and appreciate feeling slightly off balance though also completely present in the place I stand (or fall, or recline). while this transition is enhanced in a major way by the person whose abode i now share, the sense of taking the time to appreciate and explore my own presence in the landscape is key. If i followed my furball's three step process, it would go a little like this: first a tiny bit of hiding, then the picking of a spot to make their own—never to let a human displace them, occasional forays into other nooks and crannies, but always a return to that original place (while outright ignoring the fact that another body might actually be taking up the space) to sleep...and sleep...and sleep. But see, I'm not that tired and i'm actually curious about the intersection where change, comfort, challenge, and balance meet.

I used to gloss over moments of change because I wasn't sure what to do with the crunchy bits. if it didn't feel altogether good, then i sure didn't want to know about it...even though the sense of unsettled would burrow down somewhere, usually poised to rise up at some weird inopportune moment (like at the dry cleaners or grocery store or some such awkward place where i'd experience a sense of emotional vertigo and misfire some grumpy-ass-ness at an unsuspecting human. sorry, people to whom i've been less than gracious). But i was so unused to handling my own discomfort that i'd try to hold on tight to a zombie-happy state where the only antidote was a swing to the irrational. When i moved from the house that was the scene of my disintegrating marriage, i gave nary a backward glance. And while i was hugely relieved to be in my new digs, loving every view from every corner and window, I had lots of wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night dreams to do with being lost and not being able to find my way out/in/over/around. then i'd tuck all that away, roll over and go back to sleep. I was in fact burrowing, but i wasn't giving in. Nor was I resting or letting myself be watched over.

so in the here and the now, as we all negotiate space on the love seat that has apparently been claimed outright by the four-legged ones, i'm rolling up to that intersection and stopping, and looking in all directions to take in my surroundings. as long as my hands are still on the wheel and i've come to a complete stop, it's ok to be off-balance (a thing I've also discovered in class recently in the wearing of the tall boots, which has freed my body to move&stumble in ways i can't predict). I'm presently completely enamored of my surroundings and am still scoping out the space where it's fun to burrow, to watch, be watched, give in and partake depending on the moment.