The Time of Nine
I realized recently that my journey in New Hampshire has been one of Nine.
I closed on this home on the 9th of January 2009.
My home is number 9.
My time in New Hampshire has been 9 years.
The selling price of my home is a numerical 9.
My office in Exeter was rented due to a Dream I had of (3) 3’s going into the door…9.
I am sure there may be more 9’s if I look harder, but this is enough.
What does 9 mean to me? It is the supreme number of creation, as 3 is the number of creation. The only number better for creating than 3 is 9. Nine can be looked at as a conclusion.
As a 9, you’re versatile and unusual. You can be successful at virtually anything for which you feel passion. You feel fulfilled when serving a humanitarian service—large or small. You’re creative, compassionate, and giving. It’s through creativity and helping others that you find your groove. It’s only a lack of concentration that can keep you from enjoying the success of your projected goals. Understand that you’re challenged with asking for support or help, so the sooner you can learn to ask, the better. A lesson you’re learning is how to both give and receive. You’re also here to master the fine art of letting go.
Hmmm….humanitarian efforts? Yes! My goal was to create Dream Circles all over New England to help empower people and I reached that goal. I also lectured all over New England on Dreams and their value.
Master the fine art of letting go? True too. My whole life I have avoided goodbyes, and this time I gave myself a pep talk that I can handle the emotions that go with goodbyes. And if that means I am weepy alot, then so be it. I have been overwhelmed with the heartfelt good wishes of sooooo many people encouraging me on my continued journey. I am sent West with many memories of so many people that I have loved here in New England.
I have spent the last 3 months working everyday on my home, getting it ready for sale, (when I wasn’t working!). The hard push is over and I can breathe now. It feels somewhat unnatural, as if I am a balloon set free, but I will get used to it.
Last December, I made a choice to start taking better care of myself which included getting back into yoga and meditating. Every morning I spend a half hour doing both. There is a window in my spare room (where I do the yoga and meditate) that had a barren tree that touched the window and appeared to watch me on endless gray winter days. A tree witness. Today, as I prepare to leave, the tree is in full and glorious bloom. It has bloomed after staying the course and so have I.
When I first moved here to NH, I knew I found a place of peace and safety for myself and children, and it was palpable from the get-go. I honored it by writing the poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree by WM Butler Yeats across a beam on the front porch. When friends would come to visit from CT, I would sit them on the porch swing and read the poem. Even though I often choked back tears as I read, it was my way of celebrating my new life.
I have packing to do and must sign off, but please keep in touch, and our memories together, sweet.