Oh, I will miss this place; the cows mooing in the morning and the coyote's singing me to sleep at night. I live just a couple of stone throws away from the vast open space at the base of the foothills to the majestic Flat Irons.
This place where the wind blows, sometimes to full gales that make my heart sing and relax my spirit more than most other elements of nature, save the sound of ocean waves and the quiet of a pine forest.
This place that initially felt so foreign from the frenetic droning energy of living inside the sounds of a bustling Boulder, in the central part of town. I will miss the sedentary pace of this, by comparison, rural meadow area where only a few miles away, is a very hip (chichi) and highly rated city to reside in.
This place, fondly named: The Bilbo Hut, that has brought me back to my basic sanity, my basic goodness. I am reminded that this place is an exterior environment that will provide me the 'practice' of remembering that it is my interior environment that need not be thrown about based on where I place a mail box.
This place, inside of me, that harbors my trepidations and fears change (as though no change were possible) will get another test-run of my ability to mindfully ride the waves of living with never knowing what other inevitable changes lie ahead.
This vulnerable place inside that intellectually knows one thing but feels another. This tender place inside, that I will take with me in all of my wanderings....this place, my place, that needs no address to reside in, no place but my heart of hearts leading me wherever I may sojourn and call home....this place.