Much has happened since my last post. I’ve moved house, both literally and metaphorically.
My new home is in the Pacific Northwest, 2500 miles away from the Midwest where I’ve spent all of my adult life. My new home online is a revamped site, under my own name.
Neither of those could not have happened without the work done on videovidivisum.com. Since starting the blog, I’ve explored minimalism, mindfulness, photography and more. The response has been gratifying, but, more than that, I found that writing things down, naming what hurts, what was not good enough, propelled me further than a lifetime of reading self-help literature ever did.
I’ve wanted to make this move for more than a decade, but only through writing about it did I realize how unrooted I felt, and how ripe for change. Taking the time to really look at the world around me forces me to acknowledge that too many of my days are spent inside a 15” laptop screen. Writing about minimalism led to the shedding of thousands of possessions, reducing my belongings down to what could fit in a 16’ truck.
Once I spoke about what I saw, what I felt to be true, there was nothing left to do but act on it. Not always a comfortable thing. (For me or others.)
However, one fearful decision made makes the next one that much easier. Thanks to the good advice and help of some talented friends, especially my designer and artist friend Tyra, I have a new home on line as well as one in real life.
Exploring a new city is always fun, but figuring out my new home town is especially enjoyable. In this age of GPS, it’s nearly impossible to get truly lost, so whenever I have a little extra time, I simply head down a new street or take a different way home, guessing whether to go right or left. Often, I don’t end up where I expected to, but I suddenly realize that I know where I am.
The courage to take a new road doesn’t seem like much, but I think it can define a life. Unlike the bold, bucket-list adventures that are over in a few minutes, this commitment to everyday discovery helps to keep ruts from forming under our tires and in our souls. And at the end of every journey, no matter how frustrating and circuitous, there is that moment of “Ah, here I am.”
When I told people of my decision to move, I received two distinct reactions. One was a curious tilt of the head and a perplexed look. Those people were uniformly unimpressed with my reasons why. For them, a move only happens when a Great Life Event demands it. And I don’t begrudge them that reaction. I don’t expect everyone has the same wanderlust running through their veins.
The second reaction? A sigh and a drop of the shoulders. A slightly unfocused, dreamy look about the eyes. It wasn’t about the city I moved to specifically; it was more about the chance to shed what was no longer needed and to start fresh. “Yes,” they’d sigh.
Whatever your reaction to my tale, be it confusion or envy, I hope your life is full of delighted, consternated, bemused and satisfied “Here I am” moments. Moments where you look around at a familiar landscape with new eyes. And moments where the unfamiliar resonates deep within your soul, fulfilling a dream you didn’t even know you had.
Welcome to my new home. Make yourself comfortable.
When I started this blog, I named it after the Latin verb video visi visum which means “to see, observe and understand.” While that same theme runs through this reboot, I’ve decided this time to put my own name on it and not hide behind an obscure term that no one knows how to pronounce. Like what you’ve read? Check out the archives for more, and consider subscribing. As always, I’m eager to hear of your own moments of really seeing a truth about life. Tell me more in the comments below.