One week and counting

One week until the move.

The bins are filling with books, incense, crystals, and oracle cards. The art is down. My change of address is in. And somewhere between packing the familiar things and making the next decision, I’m starting to feel the pull of grief on my body.

I’ve spent two years talking about Los Angeles—the light, the mountains, Venice, the creative pulse of DTLA, the people, the possibilities. Did I mention the light?

I’m still excited. I still want this.

Now, though, I’m living the goodbye.

Taking the art down changed the feeling of my home. The pieces that have kept me company are being wrapped and packed. The things I reach for during my morning ritual are finding their way into bins. What has been familiar is slowly becoming temporary.

I’m noticing how much a place holds: the life I imagined having there, the life I actually lived, and all the ways I changed along the way.

There’s a lot to feel while there’s still a lot to do.

In the middle of it all, I stopped to put a mat around my newest painting. Packing tape, cardboard, and art supplies shared the table. There wasn’t a clear workspace, but there was enough room.

Creativity is one of my grounding forces, too. Even as I pack up my studio, I’m still making space for the part of me that wants to make something, tend to it, and see it finished. That small moment felt good in the midst of so much change.

I had thought I might document these last days with a daily countdown. Tuesday, I noticed that I

didn’t have space to write or post. And that was fine. I want to share this transition in a way that leaves me room to experience it.

That’s part of the practice, too—recognizing when something I’ve chosen needs to change.

Right now, I’m staying connected to my grounding forces: morning ritual, good food, deep conversations. Familiar ways of caring for myself while the rooms around me become less familiar.

This is where the work I share becomes the work I’m living.

Notice the Story. Give myself time to hear what this goodbye brings up. What will I miss? What am I ready to release? What am I carrying into the next chapter?

Return to the Body. Pay attention to the grief I’m feeling. Pause when I need to. Eat something nourishing. Let a morning ritual or an honest conversation help me find my footing again.

Choose Yourself Again. Adjust the pace. Let some things be enough. Remember that caring for myself belongs on the list alongside packing and changing my address.

I can feel the pull toward Los Angeles and the ache of leaving at the same time. Both belong here.

Over this next week, I’ll keep packing. I’ll say goodbye. I’ll make room for the excitement as it comes, and for the grief as it comes.

The art is coming with me. So are the books, the crystals, the rituals, and everything this chapter has taught me.

One week and counting. I’m making my way toward a new home, practicing how to stay at home in myself along the way.

x

Jules