It is the third time in two and a halve years that I am going through my things. I never mind tiding up. Even when I was a child I actually quite liked it. It would give me the chance to see my space from a different perspective and I would always stumble on a forgotten treasure which would hold up the work. It of course needed to be used, cherished or played with immediately. And so the place would first become a pig stall before it got turned all nice and tidy again.

Even though this time it goes more rigorously, the process is still the same, for which I am actually grateful. I find stories I started writing, which never got a middle, let alone an ending. Ideas for drawings I laid aside and never finished. Slowly a box is being filled with creations I can work on once I’ve moved. As I am sorting, the embracing darkness begins to be lit up by sparks of colour. Calling it darkness may sound daunting and worrying, but I do not see it as such.

In art therapy there is a beautiful exercise with charcoal. It starts off with making the paper as dark as you can. It symbolises the beginning, like a baby in a womb. There is nothing else that you know, only the warm, comfortable embrace of the darkness, a deep sleep.

But then from somewhere, something moves through the darkness. Like a strong force it cuts its own path in a straight line. It is the light, which you can bring in by using a kneadable eraser. Through the exchanging dance of the embracing darkness and the piercing light, forms and shadows come to life. Only as I am writing this I see what a beautiful and fitting metaphor it actually is.

Far away the dream that is turned into a plan brings warmth, excitement, something to look forward to. It still slumbers though, there is no need to take action yet. As the time grows nearer, new ideas and arrangements take place, making things shift and stirring things up. The old has to make place for the new, which comes with a mixture of feelings.

After that things slowly will become clearer and one can form the vague figures to its own image, risen from challenges and newly found harmony.

I notice I am struggling to find the right words to describe the last fase. Which makes sense, for I am bound to the second fase a little longer. Things are still being stirred. It is good, because in the turmoil I can feel this deep certainty that I want to go, that I need to go. A deep, deep knowing that I have to take this step. I will regret it if I don’t, whatever it will take and whatever it may bring. Life is to be experienced after all.

I would love to hear your own experience about moving abroad. Or maybe not even abroad, moving within your own country to a different town, province or state can give a similar feeling. Can you give yourself the time and space to feel through the process of change, of letting go and embracing the new? Or are you mostly in the rush of the practical stuff, relieved when everything is packed and the rest can be sorted out later? Let me know in the comments.

With love, Elianne