Quiet Meheba

I returned to Meheba yesterday. I am not often sentimental, but when I arrived at the place I had been living with sixteen people for the past few weeks - normally bustling with project conversations, singing of Disney songs, and announcements of having lost something - I was alarmed by the stillness and the silence. All I saw were leaves on the ground and closed doors. The place felt empty - empty in the way that one looks at something that was formerly over-filled.

 

So I spent a few hours this morning cleaning up and rearranging the place with Cody, the FORGE project manager who will be here for the next few months with me. It's funny how a space is difficult to live in until you have made it feel like home. I'm not sure what parts of what I did made this feel like home, but when I woke up this morning, this didn't feel like home, and now it does. I have a desk to type on. I have a drawer to dump all the little things that don't belong anywhere else in. And I have a clean floor that I can take my shoes off on without getting little pebbles stuck to the bottom.

 

Once I created my home, I began planning the first moves I will make for PACE. I can see it more clearly than I have ever been able to before. I know who I will be talking to, what I will be asking them, and what I hope to get from the meetings. Being prepared makes me feel confident, calm, and excited. I can't think of anything I've ever prepared for as much as I have prepared for this. I'm sure there will be unexpected challenges along the way - the unknown unknowns, as Rumsfeld would say - but I'm hoping they will add excitement and be manageable.