by Fiona Walthall.
Moving Home can be a huge opportunity for surrendering our own ideas of what is best for us. Our decisions of where we want to go and what to do are often driven by our history and the perspectives of who we have been, rather than as the Highest Good can see is possible for us.
As you will see in this story, whenever we set our hearts on goals that are out of harmony with what our soul knows is best for us, it often has to resort to blocking our way until we remember to listen to our intuitions. The more we really listen and yield to that still small voice, the fewer dead ends we need to experience and the more likely we are to let go of personality traits that no longer serve our highest good.
In short we learn humility. We accept that we don’t know best and so begin to intensely listen to the whispers of our intuition, not to mention noticing the subtle clues happening daily all around us that we had previously been oblivious to.
A year or so ago I went away in my motorhome for a week on Dartmoor and Exmoor. l totally fell in love with Dartmoor. At around the same time it hit me that it was time to move away from the home I had been living in for the past 17 years. I couldn’t really explain why I felt this way but within a couple of months I was back to Dartmoor looking for a new home. I found ‘my’ house and put in an offer. All was going fine, until I got skin cancer right between my eyes, I was referred for surgery and it was cut out but it left me highly traumatised and unable to function properly. Reluctantly I withdrew from the house purchase which was then quite close to Exchange. Meanwhile my current house had gone on the market.
Then came lockdown and I opened my mind up to other areas I might like to live that weren’t so far away. The Mendips fitted my new criteria and when lockdown ended I went off in the motorhome again and stayed in the Mendips with 4-5 houses on my list to view. Again I fell in love with the area and the walking. There was one house that met all my criteria, was ideally placed, and every way I looked at it seemed perfect, apart from the fact that it needed a large amount of renovation. That didn’t faze me. It felt exciting.
However, the sellers rejected my first offer.
I can remember seeing the brochure showing the picture of the house sitting on the work surface in my kitchen. It was a shock to notice that every time my eye caught the picture I felt a bit sick. Instead of overriding this, I listened to my intuition and just knew I was being shown this wasn’t the house for me.
A few weeks later I had another attempt at identifying the ‘right’ area and did another trip in the motorhome. There were several possible houses but nothing felt right, and the immediate area wasn’t pulling me either.
Meanwhile, I had accepted an offer on my house so needed to think about renting and started the process of sorting my wrist out which had become very painful with all the clearing out and getting the house ready to hand over. I saw a specialist who said I needed an urgent operation due to severe arthritis. I was told I would be able to do very little for myself for a while after the operation. Fortunately, some friends had offered to put me up after the operation. I went to view one of several places in the Mendips which was a small bungalow but had a wonderful view, and was again in a lovely walking area. I booked another viewing for my return journey a week later and impressed on the agent that I needed to know if they got even a sniff of interest from anyone else. I dreamt of the cottage all week and had moved in, in my mind. I was planning to make an offer during the second viewing. The morning I was due to arrive I had a phone call from the agent saying that someone had viewed the bungalow the evening before and taken it. I was obviously very put out.
I think it was dawning on me by this time that my friends were uncomfortable at the thought of coping with me immediately after the wrist operation and that I was going to need a lot more help than I had at first anticipated, so I had to let go of my expectations of living in the Mendips. I began looking at rental properties in an area I knew well from my childhood and would be closer to my sister.
I viewed one house which again seemed perfect except that I just didn’t feel right there. This time I observed that I had listened to and acted on my intuition, rather more quickly. Next, a farm cottage not far from Cirencester caught my eye which immediately felt right when I viewed it. Everything worked out smoothly when I put in an offer and as a result I am now in a small but perfectly adequate farmworkers cottage in an ideal location, with good walks for me and my dog. It is 5 miles from my sister, half an hour from my friends, and I am getting an enormous amount of much needed help from both of them. My house exchanged and completed just weeks later.
I can now see that:
- I wouldn’t have been happy being so far away from everyone down on Dartmoor, for the longer term.
- Even The Mendips would have been a bit of a trek.
- There is absolutely no way I could have coped after the operation in either of those locations.
- I am loving being back near my family home where I was brought up and I suspect my next home will be somewhere round here.
- A really important realisation is that I don’t have to live in the places that I fall in love with. I can go back and visit there whenever I want and get renewed pleasure from them.
- And the big one, for independent me, is the importance of family and friends, particularly as I get older and need more help and support.
It has been fascinating for me to write this. It has really highlighted how The Universe stopped me, literally, from making the wrong decisions to begin with. As the story progresses it intervenes more gently, leading me to learn to recognise my intuition and to trust it. I now feel very strongly that my future home will show itself at the right time and that I will recognise it. Now I don’t mind how long that takes whereas before, I could not wait, before I needed to feel somewhat in control of my life.
Fiona Walthall. November 2020.