Thursday, November 13, 2008
My husband and I recently sold our home—the one with the deer and rabbits visiting us regularly. It is challenging to say goodbye to all of our four-legged friends, but it is time to move on, and we will hold their precious spirits in our hearts as we look for our next "just-right" home.
Looking for a new place to live has its challenges, as I'm sure you can relate. In our case, merging the needs and desires of two people into a single, committed choice is bit of a journey. My husband's tastes run ultra modern and mine run toward the french-country side. Finding a home and decorating it have proven to give us the most visible evidence of our differences. We see much of the world similarly—except when it comes to our home. Fortunately, we find a bridge in our taste because I also happen to have a zen-streak that accommodates his love of clean lines. He on the other hand, has become accustomed to baskets and plants around the house, as well as occasional table linens.
Even with the ways we have learned to adapt, we still bump into each others differences. We discovered this before we moved into our first home together, so here is the agreement we made before we began looking. When we choose a home, we both have to feel comfortable and inspired by it. Before anything is purchased for the house, we both have to like it. That means, we agree to wait until we discover something that pleases both of us.
In our recent house looking, this does involve some degree of frustration as one of us falls in love with a house that the other one can't stand. It takes quite a bit of trust and non-attachment to let go of a house one of us really likes, surrendering to discovering something greater that suits both of us. The process demands patience because we often need to look for a while before we find something that works. Yet, when we find that "just-right" house, we experience a sense of significant accomplishment, because we have manifested something that transcends, and is even ultimately more satisfying than, our individual desires.
A few weeks ago, I took some feelings of impatience with waiting about another matter into my meditation—holding it in compassion for resolution. A gentle voice from deep within finally found me when my mind had grown still and my emotions had calmed. The voice said, "Sometimes you are waiting for what is right." I came out of the meditation freed from some of my impatience as I remembered the many wonderful people and experiences throughout my life that I had waited for. As we search for houses, I am again reminded of the wisdom of this meditation. Sometimes we are waiting for what is right.