New Eyes…

Yesterday morning I had a dream that we were moving into a new place and
I was beyond excited. I don’t remember anything else about the dream 
except that breathless fresh  feeling.
We’ve lived in this house for a very long time and though I love this house, there
are many things I don’t like about it and I would move on in a heart beat should the
opportunity and the perfect alternative present itself. 
In other words, we ain’t goin’ nowhere.
For now.
So, I am challenging myself to see something in this house, everyday, in a new way.
That other challenge of not using the car in town, has worked out 
pretty well so I have high hopes.

for Ms Moon


  1. The house I lived in before we moved south to this house was in the north woods of michigan on a small lake. it had belonged to and been lived in for 30 years by my mother and stepfather. It was full of good feelings and is the only house I've ever lived in(and I've lived in lots!) that I wish I could go back to. I'm going to try really hard to see in this one I now live in something of what I felt in the other one. Thank you for the exercise/thought.


  2. Hi Yo
    Considering. for a moment, the house as a metaphor for the Self, what a deliciously optimistic dream this is. . . the image of moving into a new place with anticipation and breathless freshness implies (and I hope it's okay for me to be saying these things?) entering a whole new chapter. For all of us, our old house – which, for the most part, we know and love well – has things about it we don't much like as well. It's a continual process of building, breaking apart, re-building, transforming. . . Perfect alternatives come along in a heartbeat, and too, opportunities to take up residence differently. . . I think of your daughter and her babe, the promise in them, in you & Scott, the 'new house-ness' of it all. . . I loved reading your dream, thank you for sharing it! I, too, am going to take up your invitation to see something in my house (both inner and outer) in a new way.
    L, C xo


  3. Oh- so I have neither your light switch nor your kimono. Now…I see.
    My light switch is just old and cracked. Like an old map. Perhaps it is a map of something. The years, I suppose.


  4. The possibility of seeing something displeasing or disappointing in a new, benevolent light – Claire's house of self and one's living space – gives me additional reason to believe in my (waking) dreams, inspirations. At times they seem so unlikely. Here is a new tool. Thank you.


I'm listening

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