The Magic of Making Room

“This bed has got to go,” I said as I surveyed the room in the back of our home that I have designated as my office/workspace/healing space. I already had the desk against the wall where I wanted it, and the new office chair I had finally ordered was on its way to me. As far as other seating in the form of a couch or loveseat or what have you, I was still undecided.

Jon and I moved the full-sized mattress into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor at the bottom of the queen-sized bed creating a low bed at its foot. The dogs love it, and I must say it is nice to have more sleeping areas. We really need a king.

We removed the bed frame from my room, and the office chair arrived moments later. The timing of this did not escape me. We put it together and hung some of our artwork on the walls transforming what was once a teenager’s bedroom into a space that felt like mine.

I posted a pic on social media, and a high school friend immediately reached out letting me know she had a loveseat she’d like to give me, as in give me. Theresa then texted me that I could bring any of the crystals on the property into my room. I sold off/gave away most of my collection before leaving Ojai.

This is how it goes, and I often forget that this is the nature of the magic. The old needs to leave before the new arrives. The void space is where the cauldron sits. Making room made my room into mine and started to open more up.

Then I had to employ a different kind of magic as I realized I was not yet ready to fill this space with any other furniture and said “no and thank you” to the generous loveseat offer. There was a time when I would take anything and everything anyone gave me without discerning whether or not I truly wanted or needed it. Often Jon and I would find ourselves housing things that those around us had left behind that we would then have to dispose of, making ourselves responsible for stuff that was not ours.

This is not very effective magic at all.

It was hard for me to say, “No,” to the loveseat, and I did it anyway as I realized this was not about deciding on furniture. It’s about making room, and I need a physical reminder. I am working on not just overlaying the life I had been living in Ojai onto my life here in Chicago, but allowing a new life to emerge.

So, I’ll work in my new and very comfy office chair until I decide what will sit behind me. I also think there may be some commitment issues here at play. If I acquire another piece of furniture for this room in Chicago it will further solidify our presence here.
Aside: I love being here, so this is completely conflictual.

Another element at play is that I love the process of looking (shopping/thrifting/finding) while creating. However, I don’t love the moment right before the finishing because then I’ll have to stop. Ridiculous, I know, especially because I love the feeling when I have finished something, even more so when it’s something I have been putting off. There will always be more to create. But, what if I choose something and later decide I made the wrong choice? This is sometimes how the inside of my head can be.

A memory, I am eight years old. My sister and I are in the candy aisle of the corner drugstore after our mother tells us that we can each choose one thing. Paralyzed at the thought of making the wrong choice I take too long. My angry mother yanks me out of there, no candy for me.

A woman observing me crying said, “Tough lesson.”

That magic only left room in my mind for more self-doubt and disappointment to grow.

I did not know back then that I could fill that space with something else, like compassion for the young me already trying to be perfect in every single way, afraid that if I were not terrible things would happen.

There were no voices back then telling me that it was okay if I made mistakes, that mistakes were a natural part of life, and that I definitely would be making some, that when I made a mistake, well, I could always repair it.

I am still emptying the room in my mind holding onto the belief that I have to get everything right all the time. As it empties, I am letting it sit, as empty as my physical room is, allowing it to fill in with more loving thoughts of its own accord.

“Timing is the piece you can not control,” said The Ps during the Solstice Transmission. The more I surrender to this, the more the space around me feels like it is exactly as it should be.

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