The Dharma of Moving....(Part Two)

The 1920's bungalow sits on the corner of 5th and Concord. I had driven by it by 'accident' when I attempted to find my way back out to a main thoroughfare from Concord that is cut off by the Boulder Creek. The For Rent sign didn't seem possible as I had been faithfully combing Craig's List for all rentals in Boulder. Nowadays, virtually no one still just posts a For Rent sign on their front lawn.

I scan the surrounding homes, there are no plastic pink flamingos in sight....surely, this property has already been seen by multitudes of potential renters. Surely, they have garnered a stack-full of applications and are no longer needing yet one more person to show the rental to. I breathe in my excitement and breathe out the temptation to feel an urgency to have been the first in line to get a crack at being 'chosen' to live there.

This is where the rubber meets the road in my desire to use letting go of outcomes as a 'practice' to trusting what will be, will be. Amazingly, I relax. I do not imagine the best or the worst of outcomes. I calmly place the phone call to the landlords to set up a showing.

Three days later, I am scheduled for the showing. Unimagined, I am the first of potential renters to get a look inside. There will be six other showings after I leave. Kay and Ken (the landlords) meet me at 10am and open the door to what looks and feels to be my 'dream' abode. It only takes me moments to envision myself in this beautiful space.

The landlords and I chat, exchange polite conversation. Kay looks extremely familiar but I don't inquire as to where I may know her from. I give them my application, my references from past landlords and they let me know that they will be showing the property for the rest of the day and will get back to me in the next few days with their decision.

I spend those days riding the waves of anxiety (breathing it in and breathing it out). Will I be chosen? Will they believe my stellar references? Fortunately, the bigger the desire for something is, the greater the opportunity to practice letting go of the desire. I have no pets. They do not know that I always leave a property more beautiful than how I found it. I always pay my rent on time. But there are other things landlords look for...and those things I do not know or have any control over.

Two days pass. I am in the midst of doing my weekly flower arrangements for my home. The seven flower vases are standing sentinel on the kitchen counter waiting to be filled and fawned over by my enormous joy of welcoming their presence into the rooms where they will be lovingly placed. The phone rings. It is Kay. "You won't believe this", she says and I notice that I begin to imagine the worst case scenario... I am bracing myself to fail in my attempt to let go of my expectations of 'getting what I want.' I imagine her saying that the place burned down or the present tenant has decided to stay.

Instead, Kay explains that she saw my present landlord's name on my application and had realized that years ago she spent time in my current home taking care of (hospice style) the dying of both of his parents. The mother dying first (in my now dining room) and the father a year later (from a broken heart) in my bedroom. On the in breath,I am struck with the enormity of having lived for two years on 'sacred ground.' On the out breath, I am struck with the remembrance of where I know her from.

I had four months previously joined a bevy of Dear Ones (hospice style) to help bathe, feed, sing, laugh, cry and love our friend, Trep, on her journey to the 'other side.' Kay had albeit, only once, come to our hospice sanctuary to oversee any pain management that Trep may need. Nothing in 'life', that I had wagered my acceptance on (the ability to afford the rent, the glowing references of past landlords, the coveted good credit score) had informed her and helped her come to her decision. Rather, it was something in the 'deathing' process that connected us both.

There it was again...the interconnectedness of all the threads of our lives, the five degrees of separation that can never quite be separated. The 'in the moment truth' that I need not attempt to do or prove anything....I only need to keep showing up, keep authentically attending to whatever pulls me, keep not keeping score and double-checking my intentions. Just being, just being me was the only requirement to let life unfold in the way it will.

Another 'holy encounter.' Another simple reminder that the unknown is so much more delightful than any known components that I foolishly believe will cement my understanding of how things 'should' work in the world. I will not live forever in this newfound bungalow. I will not live forever on this earthly plane. I will, however, be given a lifetime of opportunity to learn what I have not knowingly chosen to learn, love what I presumed was unloveable, live where I never thought possible (for better or worse) and realize that the Dharma of Moving is just the same as the Dharma of Living: you just stay present, show up and just be with whatever arises on your path be it a bungalow, a plastic pink flamingo, a birth, a death; in the world of non-duality they are all the same thing just disguised with different faces.

Hmmm....after all these years, I think I finally understand what the Beatle's meant when they sang..."I am the Eggman, I am the Eggman, I am the Walrus.": I am the Eggman and the Walrus. I am the plastic pink flamingo and the Crystal vase. I am the chateau and the dilapidated mobile home. I am all these things and none of these things. I am in a constant state of flux, groundless progression, not solid, emptiness of form (unless I fall under the spell of concretizing my experience and put a hard and fast label on it to somehow think the false security of 'knowing' what it is or means will make me think I am safe from another reality than my own), one with the winds of change--embodied impermanence.

When Ken and Kay come to my home for me to sign the lease, I am mindful of the natural interconnectedness of my spiritual practice, living and dying, changing residences and simply living one inhale and one exhale at a time.

Gracie Garp