Navigating change

This time of year always heralds the feeling of change in me. Of all of the seasonal transitions, the one between summer and autumn, as the air suddenly sharpens and the conkers start to fall, feels the most marked to me. And this year, I am also navigating a big life change as I move from London to Chichester.

I have lived in the same flat in East Dulwich for 18 years and when I tell people, they often gasp in disbelief. But it’s true. And yes, it’s a long time. My home has held me through my growing up, growing into the person I now am. It’s been a cocoon and a sanctuary, a place that has witnessed the evolution of my life. It’s been the backdrop to many transitions, big and small - renovations, flatmates, the arrival of a husband, a child. It’s seen me through all of these things. My work has evolved while I’ve lived here - I’ve worked in advertising, trained as a life coach, in reiki, EFT, Amatsu. All these changes, but one constant - that I am now saying farewell to.

In the process of clearing out, I came across a bag of clothes that had lain forgotten at the back of our understairs cupboard for a very long time. There were lovely clothes in there, bright and colourful, light and, well, small! While I could fit into most of them, they simply belonged to someone else. A me that no longer lives here. A me that I have moved away from. I found myself mourning her. My late-twenties self who partied and travelled and had so much freedom and time. I realised that I am saying some sort of goodbye to her too.

In our modern world, we have lost touch with rite and ritual. Our ancestors unquestioningly knew the importance of these, and those that I have incorporated into my life are like touchstones that create sense and meaning.

So, I decided to write a letter to my home.

I wanted to take the time, quietly, before all the boxes, the dust behind the beds, the frantic emails to solicitors, the actual moment when my keys would be no longer my keys. I wanted to sit, peacefully with a cup of tea and to feel what I felt. To say thank you. To feel the energy of the home saying thank you in return. To feel the memories held in the walls and allow them to seep out. To part like equal souls that have shared a journey.

As I started to write I cried, but by the end all I could feel was the ‘rightness’. That yes, both my home and I were ready for change. That we had evolved together to this point, and we were both ready to move on. Fresh energy was needed for both of us. It felt calm and connected and good.

It could be any change. It might be a new relationship or the dissolving of one. It might be a child being born or a child moving out. It might be a change of career or the ending of one. Can we ask ourselves, honestly, compassionately and fearlessly, where do I feel this? How can I mark this? Who am I becoming and what of me am I leaving behind? How will I honour this change?

In doing so, we allow ourselves an ending. We allow ourselves to take stock, to witness, to feel. In doing so, we put down parts of our past that are not needed for the onward journey. We claim back the energy needed to carry them. We set ourselves free into our future.