Empty Spaces
I’ve always been particularly drawn to the act of moving to a new home, specifically as being symbolic with new beginnings and fresh starts. There’s a certain feeling evoked by moving into a completely unfurnished, unspoiled building that cannot be felt anywhere else. Typically (at least for me), this feeling reflects my similar mental state, a feeling that your world is now a blank canvas; it is yours to grasp (or at least try to), and yours to leave your mark on (or, again, to at least attempt to).
I think this is in large part due to the feeling of control over your life this opportunity presents, the feeling of opportunity, one where you get to start everything over. This is no time for your past mistakes to haunt you; they won’t follow you here, but the lessons you’ve learned from them will. Allow only the lessons from failure to grace your presence, but leave failure by the door.
Granted, your mindset is what matters most here. Think of times when you’ve moved, think of your reaction upon seeing your new empty dorm room, your empty house, your partially unfurnished half of a shared living space. What do you see in the white-washed walls, in the empty kitchen, in the bedframe with a mattress too small for you? Is it sadness? Do you think of your past home and yearn, mourning the lack of furnishings as some sort of loss or uncrossable void? Or do you see opportunity; the option to build your life as you desire, without whatever held you back in your past life?
For me, I see the latter. Within these pale walls lies opportunity, a hope that this time things will be different, that they'll be better this time, that I’ll have any semblance of control and and that things will work out the way I want. I don’t see the empty wall as being bereft of something; I see it as just waiting for me to fill it, for me to fill up with myself, to search for something in the void that I can bring back to adorn my life with. There is hope in the expanse, a hope that this time I’ve learned enough, that I’ve made and learned from the requisite amount of mistakes to know what to search for when I look to build my living space, that I’ll know just what fits the empty corner of my bedroom, just what would make the grey wall in the foyer beckon the oh so many guests I’ll be having for dinner, that I’ll know just where to look for a decoration to complete my living room.
Frankly, I’m not sure what comes next. I have no idea if I’ll be able to fulfill those hopes I’ve just mentioned, those hopes that I so desperately want to tell my past self that I’ve attained, the simple, childlike wonder I’ve had when I moved to Virginia, the hopes and dreams of finally making friends when I moved to college my new college dorm for the first, second, third, and fourth time, the hopes of moving to my work’s housing in Nebraska where all I wanted to do was survive unharmed; they’ve all come, just as full of hope and wonder as the last, and they’ve all gone, just as unfulfilled as the one before it. But that’s ok! The canvas wipes itself clean yet again, beckoning to me. This time, maybe it will be different. Only time will tell.
