The Moon means a lot of things in astrology: your inner thoughts, your true personality, your instinctual reactions, your home, your mother, your deepest sense of comfort, some astrologers equate it with the soul. I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week, because I am considering buying a house. In and of itself, that is a big deal – a major life milestone. For me, it’s an even bigger deal and causes a simultaneous sense of excitement and panic.
The Excitement: I’ve never really lived alone and I am looking forward to having that space and final say-so on different aspects of my home. It will also, most likely, be cheaper than trying to find a suitable apartment for me, my son, my kitty, and the companion kitty he is going to need to survive (I have a cat-shaped dog). Even if I get a loan for the full $100,000, I will be looking at a payment of roughly $748/month with taxes and insurance, easily what I would be paying for a 2 bedroom with cat rent, probably less. Also, I like decorating and gardening, so that definitely comes into play.
The Panic: So many things to think about, not least of which is saving enough for closing costs, which could be up to $4,000. But that’s not really it… It’s the thought of putting down something that amounts to permanent roots, at least in the relatively foreseeable future sense. It’s not that I don’t like La Crosse. There’s some changes with downtown parking that make me wanna cuff a few bureaucrats upside the head, but otherwise, the town is fairly charming and I’ve made some good friends. I like the layout and the atmosphere. I’m gently wading into the community.
It just feels static to me. It feels small, tight, constricting. Not the city. Just the idea of home-owning.
I’ve already been here 7 years. This would mean committing to at least 10 more with a financial commitment of up to 30. From a life to this point perspective, that’s longer than I lived in my childhood home. For a Moon in a Gemini house, that’s an eternity.
Plus, I doubt I’ll find one of these:
You can build Hobbit holes now, but even if I could design my own at the best and most reasonable price, I still will run into the fact that I don’t know where to put it. I haven’t found “home” yet. I may not ever find that place I feel like I belong.
So the questions I’ve been sitting with are these: Is that ok? Is a physical place for belonging something I really need to find? Is a more nomadic lifestyle something I might need in the depths of my soul?
It’s hard to say.
What has been coming to mind as I write this is one of my favorite movies: Chocolat. If you’re familiar with it, maybe you can see why – unorthodox and restless single mom with a child who craves stability settles into a small French town and, after a lot of struggle, wins everyone over with kindness and chocolate. So, clearly, I just need to live above a chocolaterie, make friends with Judi Dench and Lena Olin, seduce Johnny Depp, and win over Alfred Molina and Carrie-Ann Moss, then throw my mother’s ashes to the wind, and I’ll finally belong.
Just kidding. Mostly.
In actuality, what I’m taking from the movie in terms of calming my inner gypsy is the fact that what really gave her a sense of a belonging was feeling like she made a difference, improved some lives, and, in so doing, improved her own. That’s definitely something I think would be of comfort to me. And, realistically, it’s something that would be easier to do with a stable home life.
So, here I am, repeatedly reminding myself that it’s not forever, it doesn’t mean I can’t travel, and, really, carving out a space of my own might be incredibly empowering.
Hey, look at me: