Last year I kept seeing visions of the contents of my apartment all in boxes. Some of them were so strong that I nearly started packing simply because it felt right. I resisted that urge when it was strong because it didn’t make sense – even though part of me fully trusted that if I started to box things up the next step would appear.

A few months ago, I found stronger footing as I began to open to impermanence from a place of abundance. Even then, with a plan to give up this place – a plan to let go – I felt some fear creep in and up. I knew the timeline I needed to call my landlady by. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I was going to speak the words and as the time to do so approached I could feel the energy of momentum climbing up from my legs through my belly and heart and leaping into my throat.

The words kept pushing up from my heart to “just call her”. Just call her today and say it.

I was afraid to because speaking it into reality meant it would now be real. These plans and thoughts I’ve been sure of would become solid. The solidity kept bucking at the gate of my throat until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I picked up the phone and spoke it into existence.

During the call, I was filled with so much emotion. This has been my home for a long time. The longest I’ve stayed anywhere. I do love it here.

Afterward a flood of grief and a mix of emotions swelled. I realized that the memories rising were all of letting go. Letting go of a romantic relationship here. Letting go of deep grief. Of trauma. Letting go of so many parts of myself has happened in this place. It’s held me.

This place found me when I was going through the most difficult time of my life. I feel as though Spirit reached down, lifted me up from where I was in Canada, and dropped me off here in Brooklyn – in this apartment. From here I met and was given everything I needed. Through work, through finding healers and healing, through training and yoga, through community – that’s the biggest piece for me – the community of friends and teachers and sisters and brothers. The family that grew up around me while I thought I was hidden in this place. It was here that I learned how to share with my family who was also afar. Here I learned how to be supported. .

For a long time it felt as though I was hiding. Hiding in this place below the ground and surrounded by boulders. Rocks that my landlady had brought here as they developed the area around. All these grandfathers – protectors – circle around me. They keep guard. They always have, without ever being asked.

I saw this apartment before I moved to this city. Online in an ad. There was only one picture – of the front room with a ladder in it. I knew it was the place. When I moved, I had only a couple days to find somewhere to live and the broker took me around to all these other places when I knew this was the one. I knew it in every part of me. When I finally convinced him that I didn’t want to see the other places, he brought me here.

I opened the door and felt a strong presence push me from behind. I walked about five steps in and said “yes”. This is the place.

It has been the place.

Now I can see that I was never hiding. I was picked up and dropped off and planted here. I was planted underground at a time when I was also feeling devastated and ripped apart. What I didn’t and couldn’t know then was that the ripping apart was necessary. A deconstruction. A massive realignment and re-membering that can only happen after such a complete dismemberment.

This was the place that held me. Nurtured me. Kept me safe.

I was planted here to find the others who are nearby. The people I would learn so much from and love so dearly. I came here to meet them all. I came here because we needed to meet. To exchange so much.

I needed to grow.

As I let go of this place now, the sadness that arises is of letting go of the letting go. The letting go that has led to me becoming who I am now.

Only, as I reach into those memories and find many of them faded, I know that so much has been witnessed here and that is what is hard to let go of. The grief is tied to letting go of what has already gone. It’s already happened so there’s nothing to let go of. I’m letting go of all of that letting go.

When I moved here I never dreamed it was possible to build anything at all. In fact, I told people I didn’t have dreams. I felt as though every teeny tiny bit of rebuilding I managed to cobble together was struck down easily by the next piece of hardship. I had no foundation. It felt as though I had nothing. It felt like I didn’t know what to do. Like I might not make it through.

Now, I can embrace that girl who felt those things. Now, I know that the foundation I have is strong within me. It’s so strong that it’s not contained to this place. The wonderful life and self I’ve been able to build has come from being planted here and given the nourishment and tools to flourish. I’ve been able to build this awesome life and it’s not attached to this place. The life comes with me wherever I go because it is me.

I get to come with me wherever I go. I want to come with me wherever I go.

How great is that?

I arrived here unable to stand myself, in a vicious cycle of self-recrimination and fierce destructive anger, trying to literally walk out of my body (without much luck), then moved to feeling stuck with myself and agitated by that, to now feeling happy that I get the chance to be with myself!

I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the first chakra these past few years. Safety and security. Fears around not surviving. These are rooted way back and were so strong I’m not sure I even noticed I was alive.

I was terrified of losing a job or of losing a place to live. So much fear guiding decisions. Fear without listening to what was within. I was running blind.

Now, I’ve willingly given up so much of what used to bring that safety and security. I “should” be scared or trying to figure things out, except I’m not. I feel the most safe, secure and supported I ever have.

I have instead a strong inner knowing. A knowing that these are the exact right next steps. Maybe my future self already knows how great these decisions will be. Maybe it doesn’t matter because everything will continue to add to my life, no matter what it feels like or if it’s hard or fun or serious or easy. My roots aren’t growing from false, uneasy, ground. They’re growing from so deeply within myself and the support that has graciously been cultivated all around me that I now know my way.

So much growth has happened from being planted in this place and now, instead of feeling uprooted by leaving, I’m ready for more growth. It stems from knowing I’ll always be planted in the exact right place. Faith. Trust.

For months, in all of this I’ve struggled with feeling like I need a sense of direction. I couldn’t figure it out and would only make myself feel smaller for not being able to. That has faded as I feel as though I have direction without knowing at all what it is or what it looks like or even where it will be.

I do know that there’s only one way to find out.