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It's strange, selling off bits of my home little by little. First all the junk went when I moved two months ago. More recently, a side table went to a lovely girl, shelving units went to a family, bookshelves to a man down the street. Slowly my home is becoming less a home and more just a building - and an empty one at that.

When we made the decision to move we began to think of it in terms of starting over. Five years ago we packed up a very old, sad little Toyota with a few of our belongings (I only owned books and some clothes; he brought not much more) and drove from his home clear across the country to Seattle where we moved into a very tiny studio with absolutely nothing. No money, no jobs and no furniture.

Five years later, we had built-up a little something but it still wasn't quiet right. First, we've moved five times within the same area which hasn't helped us to feel connected to any one place. Also he, so busy with everything and I, held up writing in my flat, haven't really meet people here (which was alright as I must confess Seattle people bug the bejesus out of us - especially the women. So competitive, bitchy - meow!). Also, lifestyle wise this area doesn't rack it up for us. It's very corporate, one-way of being, not so creative, not a lot happens (the downtown area with the exception of bars, is quiet after 6PM). Without much to do locally, we began to take a lot trips to visit our friends around the world and celebrate holidays in style. Coming home was always bitter sweet; nice to see our kitty, not so nice to be where we were. There just wasn't a future here that we wanted.

So this fall, with no reason to stay, the decision was made to move away. And then began a very strange set of extraordinary circumstances that lead us on a grand adventure to a new place. One should never question strange events so we didn't and instead just agreed to move without any jobs, home, connections or knowledge. Everything pointed in that direction and we thought it'd all become clear once we were there.

The move would not be easy nor inexpensive. That lead us to selling everything we owned and move with nothing. The bed - gone. The shelves - gone. Desk - get rid of that. TV stand - no more and on and on. Get rid of as much as possible. As much of the past, of the impermanence, of the stuff that once served a purpose but didn't now as we changed. Start over.

At first I have to confess it was hard to let go of these things. I'd always been a vagabond, traveling the world and living out of a suitcase. To own a bed, have a place for my books, a stand for my fish well, it felt good. Despite not having a lot (I'm still a minimalist) I had grown attached to what I had.

But the more I let go, the more free I felt to really move on. I began to think of things I could do in the future. And although it'll most likely take us several months to purchase things and get a home, which means we'll probably be sitting on the floor for awhile and eating on paper plates, I thought how lucky I was to have this chance. A chance to really see who I had become by letting go and moving forward and grow into it instead of being trapped by who I was.

It's been an interesting experience to shed myself of all these things. I now have the freedom to move at the drop of the hat and the way that things have been working as of late, perhaps that's how it will be.