I hate moving. The packing and lifting and headaches. I can’t even do it anymore. My stress injuries prevent me from contributing the way I’d like to because I wouldn’t be able to use my hands for the next several days. But moving is also an emotional process. Exchanging one Home for another. Last year I moved from a one bedroom to a studio. This year I am moving to a two bedroom. That’s a come up. But to go up I had to go through.

This is a twisted Trip through Oz. The Looking Glass has never been so hazy and yet it’s a clearer view than I’ve had in a while.

I am going to spend the rest of the year taking care of myself. I’m not exactly sure what that will look like in the New but it’s about me that’s for certain.

In gratitude I thank the Universal Law for making a way for someone who shouts their will into the void. And someone who shows them how and what the results will be.

The moral of my story isn’t reciprocity or simple gratitude it is a hard cut to a stoic face that is accepting that change doesn’t always come in a clear glass jar. That my own progress isn’t just my process but actual transformation.