My wife and I are in the midst of a move to a new home and location. This sort of change presents the opportunity to clarify who I most truly am (and want to be) Now, and to create a living space and daily life that most accurately represent the current iteration of myself. In relation to the move, my mom recently shared a poem with me by Mary Oliver that illustrates this spirit of dropping the weight of the past in order to leave myself open to what’s new Now, and I thought I’d share it with you…

Storage by Mary Oliver:

When I moved from one house to another
there were many things I had no room for.

What does one do?

I rented a storage space.
And filled it.

Years passed.

Occasionally I went there and looked in,
but nothing happened,
not a single twinge of the heart.

As I grew older
the things I cared about grew fewer,
but were more important.

So one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man.

He took everything.

I felt like the little donkey
when his burden is finally lifted.

Things! Burn them, burn them!
Make a beautiful fire!

More room in your heart for love,
for the trees!

For the birds who own nothing -
the reason they can fly.

I’m particular struck by the last line of the poem, and its theme of flight reminded me of something unexpected that happened on our most recent night spent at the new home (we’re back and forth for the moment). After a full successful day of unloading, unpacking, arranging, organizing, it seemed as though everything was going perfectly according to plan. As I sat on the funky gold living room couch, my wife walked in from the kitchen and suddenly we heard some fluttering movement clearly not coming from either of us. She identified the source first: “It’s a bat! It’s a bat!” I looked over and saw the black-winged guest circling the corner of the room before vanishing into the basement. One humane bat removal system installation later, I’ve reflected on this experience, and appreciate the bat’s reminder not to be attached to how good things are in the moment, but to enjoy them as much as I can in the only time that I have them, Now. And then a bat may arise. And that can be okay, too. Maybe not what we hoped for. But it simply is what is, Now.

Birds and bats - holding on to nothing, allowing them to fly.

For the birds
who own nothing

-

the reason they
can fly.

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