My husband and I moved our office this week. In the best of times, this would be an exhausting ordeal. But the fact that we are both consultants who can’t work during a move, and the fact that I scheduled our move a few days after my husband had a six-hour chemo treatment, made it an ordeal which required an entire bottle of Advil and a lot of cursing.
Today was my first day in the new office, and I must admit it’s quite lovely.
However, sitting here typing is somehow uncomfortable. The traffic going by my window sounds different, and the muffled voices below me aren’t familiar.
Maybe my discomfort comes from the fact that his morning I put on new shoes. Or it’s because I gave our refrigerator and microwave away to one of the movers because he had a new place and needed them and now I miss them (this is a bad habit of mine – please don’t ask for my car, because I will give it to you).
But look on the sunny side of life . . .
The good news is that the discomfort is making me a little more regimented, as if I’m getting a new teacher in school — suddenly, I’m very serious about taking notes and abiding by the rules.
In our old office, we were isolated. It was our space, and we could dance naked if we wanted to. We didn’t, because even we didn’t want to see that sight. But it could have been done.
In our new office we are next to others who might or might not approve of naked dancing.
Last night I stayed late to put up my last painting, because my entire family learned that when you move you don’t sleep until every curtain is hung and every box is broken down. My mother, normally a funny, warm person, becomes the Great Santini during moves. If we didn’t have our rooms unpacked, we’d get a basketball bounced off our foreheads until it was done. One of our moves involved staying up until 4:00 a.m., at which point we celebrated by going to IHOP. I remember, because I got chocolate chip pancakes.
Last night after everyone had left the office, I was standing on a desk putting a nail in the wall when I heard someone whisper, “It’s okay.” I jumped and nearly fell off the desk. I looked behind me and saw nothing but an extremely clean floor which would make my mother proud.
I looked in the hallway and saw no one standing there. About ten minutes later, my husband walked in after his trip to the dump.
I have no clue . . .
I have no idea where the “It’s okay” came from; perhaps it was my own soul whispering to me. Regardless, I appreciated the message because it reminded me that being uncomfortable IS okay. In fact, it’s proof that I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone and have embarked on a new journey.
In the past two months, I have had total strangers tell me that I’m getting ready to start something new in my life. I’ve had one woman tell me that she sees angels around me. She would not have said that had she heard my cursing during the move.
Tomorrow, start with new shoes . . .
Sometimes, we avoid amazing opportunities because we like our predictable lives in which our schedule is predestined and we can curse without care. We sit in our emotional recliners, lessening our life’s stories with every moment that passes.
If we want to experience something new, we have to be uncomfortable.
Perhaps that’s why Dorothy started her journey with ruby slippers . . .because every step would remind her that something new, sparkly, and slightly dangerous was in front of her. And ultimately, just like with all change journeys, the discomfort ended when her ruby slippers took her home.
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