Deer are aplenty in the Santa Ynez Valley.  Taken on the morning of January 21, 2006 in Solvang, CA.

I have nothing new to add, comment on, report or write about regarding this week’s additions – or lack thereof – to my 500 Creations list.  I am in my living room in Solvang looking up at painting by my dear friend and creative soulmate Nancy Faulkner.  It is a wide wood panel filled with blues and terra cotta hues.  Painted in the center a small white bowl filled with water, floating just above the ground.  Hovering above the bowl is a cloud, its reflection resting in the water.  That is how I have felt about my creative work this week – that I have had to hover over all of my creative ideas and visions, staring at their reflection without being able to reach in and make them real.

Every corner of our house looks perfect and all is ready for our first open house this weekend.  I find myself looking around at everything with an old longing, the longing to change all our plans and stay here forever.  Today when I pull out of my driveway to head back to LA, it will most likely be the last time I leave this house feeling like it is still truly mine.  Once the first potential buyer walks through our front door Sunday, the first step towards saying good-bye to this home will have been taken and there will be no turning back.  I know this is all forward motion and better in the long run, but I will miss this peaceful place so very, very much.

I was emailing with my friend Alexandra last night, explaining to her that right now I am feeling rather…peculiar.  Not bad, just different, as if a new bubble of space has opened up within me and I’m not sure where it came from or what its purpose is.  It is colorful and delicate like the bubbles we blew as kids, our fingers sticky from dunking the wand in the plastic pink bottle full of soapy liquid, so in that sense it is comforting and intriguing.  But I have to believe this bubble is making itself known because I am finally confronting certain issues in my personal life – which are not especially pleasant or positive – and that is why I am a tad suspicious.  Is this just the calm before the storm?  Am I about to have a total emotional meltdown and all I’m doing right is enjoying the warm, cozy blanket of denial?

Deep down I think my suspicions are inaccurate.  Surprisingly (to myself), I believe the space that is opening up is a new reserve of strength and energy, something that will steady me if I start to feel really off-balance as I take certain actions.   It is astounding how calm and clear things become when we stop trying to wrap our deepest longings and desires around someone else’s terms, and when we decide once and for all that we owe it to ourselves to place the highest value possible on our own feelings, our own health and our own needs.  This does not mean I advocate everyone walking around only being concerned with themselves; this means that in situations where we feel like we have to, at best, settle and, at worst, be abused, we value ourselves enough to take whatever steps are needed to protect ourselves.  I don’t mean to be vague here, I realize I am not going into specifics about what I’m dealing with, but rest assured it is nothing catastrophic, it doesn’t involve abuse of any kind, and while it is terribly sad it is a long time coming.  A long time.  Maybe that is why I feel so secure in my own skin in a way I never have been in certain relationships, situations and environments.  I have done a lot of work in one particular area of my life to ensure I take responsibility for my own actions, let go of expectations and have no attachments, but through it all I have still compromised what I desperately wanted and never truly stood up for myself.  I am taking a mighty leap and I hope, as Julia Cameron says, "the net will appear."

If it doesn’t, I still think I’ll have a soft landing, and I’ll walk away from it a warrior, with my heart intact in a way it never has been.