Moving Out

I did not want to empty my office in a blizzard. When a sunny and fairly warm Friday arrived early this month, it was time: I rented a U-Haul truck, and with considerable assistance from my friend John Cowan moved most of my things to a storage unit. Since then, only a few things remain, few enough that I can easily load them in the Prius C and be out of the church in about a half-hour when the Last Day comes.

I had packed my clavichord into its shipping case; it was the only large piece, joined by the white wooden chair made by my great-grandfather and a few other small pieces of furniture. The organ music went into boxes, saving out only what I needed for the remaining weeks. The books had come home bit by bit over the last month, a few in my carry bag every day. Photos and diplomas went into boxes, as did my CD recordings. I shifted my work to a laptop, packing away my desktop computer, a twin of one that is at home, to serve as its backup after we move. Thanks to Marie Kondo, surprisingly little needed to go into recycling, the dumpster, or the thrift store. I had already done most of that when I worked through my things, seeking those that spark joy and saying farewell to the rest.

And it is no longer my office. Nineteen years and more it has been, the longest I have been in one place in this lifetime. More of my waking hours were at the church than at home, and the office bore more of my personality than anything in our apartment.

In that lies a challenge for the coming year: can I find a Home in our new home, yet to be found? Beyond that, can I find a Life when so much of my life energy has been tied up in the church and its music?

I got a clue from a long interview with Tulsi Gabbard, the presidential candidate that I wholeheartedly support. To paraphrase, she spoke of the quiet life that would be her “selfish interest” as she called it, home in Hawaii, surfing every day. But asking “what do I want, what would make me happy” rather than finding the real happiness that is “service to God, service to others… service above self” leads to the question “What is it all for?”

If I craft a nice comfortable little niche, playing my clavichord and piano every day, reading books, doing nothing for others, then it is all about myself. But “Is today the day? Any day could be your last. What are you doing with this time?” That is why she is spending this winter in places like Iowa and New Hampshire instead of Hawaii, and why she walks the path that is hers. [these thoughts and quotes are from around the 42 to 46 minute mark in the video]

I do not know what path is mine, not after December 31. But after the political campaign is over, I plan to keep Tulsi’s bumper sticker on my Prius: “Service above self.” I will need that reminder even more in retirement than I do now.

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As I wrote several months ago, I chose to support Tulsi because of her courage in standing up to the corrupt Clinton/DNC machine in the 2016 primaries and supporting Bernie Sanders, courage that was again displayed this week when she refused to support the rush to impeachment that is polarizing the country.

Back in May, I thought that I was finding in Tulsi a political candidate that I could follow and support. I did not then know that I was also finding a spiritual guide and example.

There are three other Democratic candidates that I admire and like: Andrew Yang, Bernie Sanders, Marianne Williamson. But on caucus night in a few weeks, I will stand up for Tulsi. And beyond that, whether she wins or (more likely) falls short, I will honor her and seek to live up to her example.