Leaving the prairie behind

Much as I tried, whenever I visualized my inner garden, I saw a Charleston-type gated sanctuary, not a wide-open wild prairie. So why was I living on eight acres in an old farmhouse with three acres of native grasses and flowers edging our backyard?

Our century farmhouse captured our dreams: space for visiting family, overnight retreat space for guests, walls that encapsulated history, windows that revealed both the huge orange moon emerging from the land and the pink and purple sunset announcing the end of the day.

It was our dream–until it was not. We spent most evenings and weekends taking care of it. Removal of a single tree on our forested land could gobble up our vacation savings. Family and guests did not visit often enough, leaving empty rooms to remind us of our relative isolation. It was time to move on.

Fast forward a year and a half. We’re through the grief of selling our dream home to someone with a new vision for our place. After supper, my husband and I discuss what we’d like to do–or whether we’d like “to do” anything at all. I have a small carefully landscaped garden outside our bedroom.¬†We let go of what was standing in our way of more leisure time, not without pain. Yet we had confidence in what was calling us next.

This topic of letting go comes up frequently in our workshops and mentoring. So during the next couple of months, Deb and I have challenged ourselves to blog about it–not to reminisce about the past, but to let go of something new every day we write, no easy task for someone who has recently downsized. We’ll let go of non-material things as well–limiting beliefs, behaviors we’ve outgrown or need to change, fears that are getting in the way of growth. Join us on this adventure of weeding the gardens of our lives and tell us what you’re wanting to release. Diane

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