In the light of last night’s full moon, I reflected on a question Chani Nicholas asked: look back to May, to what was just beginning to shift 6 months ago. “What have you given up and what have you done with the space created?”
It was early May when the decision to close Shecosystem crystallized. After months swirling in anxious indecision, the storm cleared enough for me to see that my inner compass was leading me into new waters. Since May, with sweeping tacks and imperceptibly tiny shifts, I’ve been reorienting myself.
One of the biggest changes is my relationship with my home. When I was running the coworking space, home was little more than a place to dump my stuff and run back out the door. Or it was a place for self-care triage: what do I need most before I crash – food? weed? journalling? laundry? or maybe I should just crash now?
Now I’m at home a lot more. At first I was afraid of becoming too withdrawn. It felt shameful to stay home all day, even if I was getting things done. I’d play podcasts to down out the inner voices. Some days I’d cross my threshold two or three times with my bike helmet on grabbing something or putting something back inside before finally allowing myself to just stay put.
Gradually I got more comfortable, and learned how to notice when I actually want to go out or when I want to be here. With the quiet. With my feelings. With my private altars. Home has become a space to create. A space to gather, something I stopped doing when I ran the coworking space . And it’s a space to work, especially on chilly, pre-menstrual, moonstruck days, with a cup of tea and a bouquet from my garden, and the goddess Vesta for inspiration.
I’m about to give up this home for a while and spend some time on the west coast. There, I may not have have a permanent home but I know it’s important to create a space that feels nourishing – where no matter how much or how little time I spend there, I feel the warmth of the hearth.