I’m in Ashland, Oregon, after a happy but intense and sometimes freaky mountain-moving process of sifting, sorting and discerning through every single belonging of mine. Every object, piece of furniture, item of clothing, sheet of paper, cooking utensil & pan, bottle, jar, can, rubber band, stationary supply & stray twist tie. Every tchotchke, jewel & junky adornment. Every book, every Xeroxed scholarly paper conserved for my own research projects & doctoral work. Every kept memento, school paper, poem, letter, card & photo… going back to my childhood & beyond, to my mother’s childhood. Every audio tape & journal (well, didn’t quite get through all of that).

That means… over the past three months I’ve relived my life, nearly every memory, the good, the poignant, the gut-wrenching, the sorrowful, the ecstatic, the shameful. I’ve released what needed to go & I’ve retrieved what I thought I lost for good.

St. Vincent De Paul’s & a few good friends have nearly all my furniture, half my clothing, some of my jewelry. My plants are dispersed among loving homes. The rest is in a small storage unit or in my car.

It’s taken hours & hours, and days longer than I’d planned, to accomplish it all. The sorting of what I’ll need to access in my car – and the realization that I’d need to pare down & organize my clothing in particular ways – were particularly huge projects. My Toyota, Steed of Fiery Hope, has been overburdened with hundreds of pounds of extra weight through the items I’ve strategically selected to take with me on this grand writing pilgrimage. Not strategically enough, apparently; more shedding is happening this week as I’m deciding what to mail to a family member so that I can go more than 50 mph up hills.

When I passed through the gate of my former home in San Rafael, CA, for the last time on Sunday, March 31, fear & sadness, my old friends, rose up. I proceeded on. The black iron bars of that homestead of 8 years literally closed behind me.

Now, the horizon opens before me.

It is uncanny, weird, wild & wonderful to have no formal address. It’s like not having a driver’s license or a Social Security card. It’s a bit forbidden… and I’m surprised it’s not illegal. Is it permissible for anyone to be THIS UNFETTERED?

It’s bizarrely energizing to be in a condition of near total shedding, to feel unrooted from the familiar ground beneath my feet, to have no state of the union to call my own, to be in a new place – and to know that if & when I return to my old haunts, things will be very different.

I have a planned itinerary of house stays with friends, family & colleagues. This has me feeling buoyed & held like the person who falls back into a crowd & is carried aloft by a sea of hands.

I’m around people now. No more agonizing solitude in the house at night. There are living, loving souls around.

My time is suddenly my own. I’m learning how to relax.

I’m planning on driving to exotic places like Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Devil’s Tower – places of tremendous beauty & power. I’ll be attending two Native American elders’ gatherings & one faery conference.

And I’ll be, as I am in this moment, writing. Writing. Writing.

My plan is actually working. I’m free. And for the first time in a very long time, I’m freakin’ happy.

Freedom, Renewal & You

I keep thinking about Matt Kahn’s comments that when you don’t have a relationship you think having one will make you free. Then when you have one you think being out of it will make you free.

He’s also talks about how making a living doing what you love is overrated. Because soon enough what you love becomes work. You think you’ll be free when you earn money by following your bliss. But when bliss starts to rule your life through the pressures of the market, you want out.

So when are we really free?

Will living out of a car & suitcases start eventually start feeling like entrapment? Or will I continue to love the road? I don’t know. What I do know is I absolutely had to follow the pull, the call, the scream to change my life, and this is how I was guided to do it. Radical is my nature.

This has all led me to reflect that Freedom is a Devic spirit, like any other quality. She has her ways, her rhythm, and her cycles. She is not concrete, absolute, or fixed. She shifts, changes, mutates… and eventually points to the next in line waiting to assist: the Deva of Renewal.

When the Deva of Freedom gives way to the call of the Deva of Renewal, it’s important to pay attention & make the changes, whether they be inner, outer, or a combination of both. Because without heeding them, you invite in the Deva of Stagnation, and he can lead to all sorts of physical, emotional & logistical challenges.

Is something crying for change in your own life? Does something need renewal? What big or small step can you take in that direction, today, as a gift to yourself? Know that your relationship with the Devas of Freedom & Renewal doesn’t have to look like mine or anyone else’s in order for you to feel liberated & refreshed. As we know, Freedom is ultimately an inside job. You may want to take a moment to sit with these great beings today & ask: How can we more elegantly dance together?

And remember that I’m here to support you over this next year through private readings,  which you can find out more about HERE & participation in our Soul-Dive Series, which will keep your soulful pot filling & stirring.

To see the latest photos & videos, and read updates on Marguerite’s journey, visit Marguerite’s Sacred Writing Pilgrimage web page HERE.