life Archives - Page 2 of 4

(Un)Making a Home

A view of a living room that is well lit, cheerful, and artistically maximalistic.

A completely empty room with sunlight shining through the windows.

Familiarity is comfortable and change, no matter what it looks like, is unbearably hard.

Earlier this month, I said goodbye to an apartment I loved deeply, a safe space that was home to me for longer than any other place before it. (And look at that light!) This is the first place that I settled into and made my own. I celebrated my 30th birthday here. It was my cats’ first home, and where I honed my artistic style. While living in this apartment, I made friendships that will last a lifetime; I found my center and my self worth. This space saw me through the pandemic, through anguish and big joys, and I grew more here in the past five years than in all the years prior.

Before leaving, I worked for days alongside my mom and best friend, running on adrenaline, sorting through and clearing out a literal decades’ worth of things. We scrubbed and painted. We sold my car.

I kept little, but I’m grateful that so many of my things, curated with love, now live in my friends’ and family’s homes.

When the space was empty, we drove to the airport with my two cats. And after 14+ hours of travel, my mom and I arrived at in Cologne, Germany, and I was reunited with my husband.

My mom went home yesterday. It’s been a little over a week since we left Baltimore, and I am still acclimating to the time difference and processing all the change that’s happened and all the change to come.

And yes, while I’m thrilled to finally be here, it has also been immeasurably hard. But we are resilient, even when things are uncertain, even when we take a big leap outside of what is familiar. And through all this change, I’ll learn that home is anywhere there’s a sense of belonging — and vice versa.

Doorways

Close up of a trash bag containing various art supplies, including crayons, painted papers, charcoal, etc.

A hand holds a greyscale, loosely painted 3/4 portrait of a woman looking to the left, with minimal highlights in pink and green.

Time flies. Very soon, I’ll be living in Germany.

I’ve spent the last several months purging, going through a lifetime of papers, art supplies, trinkets, and things put in closets years ago and long forgotten about. Taking multiple trips to the donation center. Giving away beloved items, thrilled that many of them will have a new home with family and friends. Shedding so many old things, and making room for the new.

I got my first tattoos with two humans I love dearly, mementos to remind me of the community that is here for me, forever.

I can’t help but think, often, of Jonny Sun‘s book Goodbye, Again, where he writes so beautifully about life and transitions and joy and heartbreak. One quote, about how many final goodbyes we have already said, sticks with me — though my copy is currently already at my new home and I can’t find the exact words. But he’s also written that “goodbyes are doorways, never doors,” and I’m holding on to that, too.

It’s been incredibly bittersweet.

The Waiting Place

Last year, in late January, I got married. This year, I spent the day alone.

We’d been working on getting a visa for months, bogged down by bureaucracy, unexpected challenges, and moving goal posts. The embassy took my passport in September, and by January, the uncertainty of when I would be able to travel out of the country again was unbearable.

While in agonizing limbo, my friend re-shared Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss. I thought I knew it pretty well: it’s a celebratory gift to many graduates, lauding all the adventures they’ll have and the wide horizons of endless possibility.

I’d forgotten, though, about The Waiting Place.

The Waiting Place…

…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

Somewhere in my personal waiting place, I came across a crucial reminder that, no matter how dark or difficult or heartbreaking or lonely this moment is, humans across the globe — throughout all of time — have been through it, too, and there is a piece of poetry or art or music that echoes that pain.

No matter how isolated or powerless you may feel, you are not alone. And, because life is the way it is and change is inevitable, these valleys will not last forever.

Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

Somehow, we did escape all that waiting. I am writing from Germany — the visa was approved just a little over a week ago. I picked it up the morning of our anniversary.

Darkness Before the Dawn

Today is the winter solstice — the shortest day of the year, with more than 14 hours of darkness.

After today, the light returns.

These past few months have been a struggle. There are 4,000 miles of distance between me and my husband. I am waiting for a visa while clearing out a home, with no real timeline for a final move. Time stretches before me endlessly and, at the same time, I’m unable to plan anything more than a few weeks out.

Several friends have also been waging their own personal battles. Kids and marriages and divorces, health challenges, healing from trauma, so much stress and anxiety. After two (almost three?!) years of a pandemic, we’re all exhausted.

“I appreciate that we can be messes together,” I texted friends tonight. And it’s true. Having friends that show up messy, who love you through your messes, are everything.

But from here, it gets lighter. I’m holding on to that.

My quarterly newsletter goes out on the first day of each season. Read the winter 2022 issue — and sign up, if you like — at ingridmurray.substack.com.

Proof of Life

As 2023 approaches, I am reflecting on the past and planning for the future. It’s my favorite part of winter: How did I grow? What do I hope for in the coming year? What is most important to me?

In addition to my art journal, I primarily use three kinds of journals to guide me: a planner, a commonplace notebook, and a log book.

Planner: Clever Fox Weekly Planner
In early 2020, I bought my first Clever Fox planner. It includes space to create a vision board, identify goals and break them down by month and week, track habits, reflect on weekly and monthly wins, and, of course, keep a daily planner.

There are also ample dotted pages at the back for whatever is important; I keep my address list, book list, and other notes and things to reference here. There’s also a pocket in the back (my grandmother’s speech for our wedding reception is tucked inside).

A turquoise Leuchtturm notebook with a Charm City Threads holographic sticker of an umbrella with the words "It'll be alright".

Commonplace Notebook: Leuchtturm1917
I’ve been keeping some kind of journal for decades. Lately, I’ve loved the Leuchtturm notebook: it’s numbered and has a space in the front for an index list and plenty of creamy blank pages to write and doodle. I make it my own with a sticker.

Read more about my commonplace notebook.

A black Moleskine pocket planner with 2023 embossed on the cover.

Log Book: Moleskine Daily Planner
Since reading about Austin Kleon’s practice of keeping a log of things done (rather than a to-do list), I’ve kept my own. This practice has been simple: right before bed, I write down in bullet points what I’ve done, people I’ve talked to or spent time with, and any major world events.

It’s also been a very meaningful habit: I now have more than two years’ worth of daily memories that I very likely otherwise would’ve forgotten. In 2020, I shared some entries from the pandemic.

Note: This is not a sponsored post, nor does it contain affiliate links. All opinions are my own.