Summary

The author reflects on the mixed emotions of moving into a new home in Nova Scotia, expressing both love for the new environment and a profound sense of loss for the solitude and lifestyle she previously enjoyed, while also discussing the concept of grief in Chinese Medicine.

Abstract

The author has recently moved into a rented house in the South Shore area of Nova Scotia after a period of extensive travel. Despite the beauty and tranquility of the new home, which aligns with her preferences for simplicity and connection to nature, she grapples with the grief of losing her cherished solitary lifestyle. The transition prompts her to contemplate the nature of grief as understood in Chinese Medicine, which views it as a necessary emotional movement that requires acknowledgment and feeling to process and transform into acceptance. The author is taking time to pause and fully experience her emotions, recognizing the importance of honoring the seasonal changes within and without, as she prepares for further life changes ahead.

Opinions

The author values solitude and the ability to live alone, viewing it as an essential aspect of her identity and well-being.
She appreciates the design and natural materials of the new house, which resonate with her personal aesthetic and eco-conscious values.
The author experiences a sense of loss and grief due to the disruption of her preferred lifestyle, emphasizing the importance of being alone and the peace it brings.
She sees grief as a natural and adaptive process in Chinese Medicine, one that should be fully felt and embodied to allow for healing and acceptance.
The author embraces the concept of life as meditation and maintains a deep connection to Source, which she feels is compromised when living with others.
She is introspective and reflective about her emotional state, acknowledging the need to pause and register the complexities of her current situation.
The author invites readers to share their own experiences of pause, reflection, and release, suggesting a communal aspect to processing emotions.
She recommends additional readings related to personal growth, identity, and the emotional journey, indicating a commitment to self-exploration and sharing wisdom.

Grief | Relationships | Chinese Medicine

Moving Into Our New Home, Registering a Loss, Feeling…All of It.

August in Nova Scotia

August. How are you? Where are you?

I am…unsure.

We arrived at our new home in the South Shore area of Nova Scotia this week after 33 days of too much travel and too-close quarters.

The house, which we’ll be renting for two years while its family is abroad, is lovely.

Built with detailed care, natural materials, much eco-conscious consideration.

Simply and sparsely furnished pretty much exactly how I would’ve done it, with my simple, sparse, selective ways.

Resting on forested land with a stream and birdsongs and…silence.

My bedroom plus bath offers a separate enclave of sorts.

And I’ve arranged the detached, rustic cabin out back *just so*.

It doesn’t have internet yet but will soon…and then will be my work and writing space.

The cats love it here. Randy loves it here. I love it here. And yet…

I feel I’ve lost something important.

A cherished part of home.

A treasured way of life.

An essential part of…me.

Nothing I have to say is new here. Quite honestly and plainly, I love being alone and living alone.

I love the rest from hyper-vigilance.

I love deep quiet and the absence of big screens.

I love the practice of doing one thing at a time.

Fully.

Slowly.

Without actual and potential requests for divided attention.

I love what I can only describe as life as meditation.

And extra-close connection to Source.

Some of that is lost when I live with another.

Maybe, a lot is lost.

I am grieving it.

In Chinese Medicine, we’re in the season of late Summer now. A final culmination and over-ripeness before Fall.

With Fall, comes bei 悲, usually translated as grief, or sadness.

Grief, like all emotions in Chinese Medicine, is a movement of Qi.

The movement part is important: It wants to be embodied, felt fully, and moved through.

Yet, there is stillness in its midst. Yin within Yang.

Grief is an adaptive pause. It asks us to stop, register a loss, and feel it honestly and completely.

Only then can it move along.

Only then can it alchemize into acceptance.

So, here I am. Pausing. Registering places of sorrow and joy. Home and homesickness.

More change is coming. Big change.

But first, I’ll linger a while, letting this season and transition pass through me.

Where does August find you?

Where are you pausing…registering…releasing?

I’d love to hear.

xo, Dana

If you’re up for soul-sourced poetics, try this one:

We Become the Stories We Tell. Who Are You When You’re Not Blaming or Complaining?

Identity, opinion, trauma, triggers

medium.com

If you’d like a lighter tale from the road, right this way:

How Dollarama, Vitamix & Tim Hortons Are Saving My Marriage

Cross-country travel with cats and an ex in Canada

dana-leigh-lyons.medium.com

Note: This story is in response to Sadie Seroxcat’s thought-and-feeling evoking prompt here.

Thank you for reading. I’m a doctor of Chinese Medicine and write about sobriety and soulful living. Find all my links here:

About Me — Dana Leigh Lyons

Doctor of Chinese Medicine, Minimalist, Sober, Queer

medium.com