This is my first house. My first place of my own, where I have the key to the door, and the freedom to paint the walls crazy colors, tear things apart, build things, do everything or do nothing. I can plant impossible gardens without considering how I will move those gardens to the next house.
Metamorphosis. Transformation. This is about more than an old house with character, this is also about Me. As I nurture the land, I nurture myself. As I fix up an old house, I work on myself. I expect to start a small fix-it task and realize there is so much more behind the wall that needs doing, which is how working on my personal process seems to work, too.
Yesterday I made the first mortgage payment of my life. It was a simple action, the same as paying any other bill. The difference was knowing that it is the beginning of a journey, the beginning of a relationship. I have a house and its land to get to know, a town to explore, and a practice to build.
