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Tonight I write from the comfort of my bed with a hot cup of tea next to me while swathed in the comfort of my kitschy Kimono style robe that I picked up in Chinatown during my stay in Los Angeles. It is good to have my own space again. Not that I for a second wasn't happy in the homes of my hosts or hostel stays, everyone was so wonderful and made me feel right at home, but its different when its not technically your home. For the first time in a month I don't feel like I'm in the way, I don't have to ask where things are, I know how things work, I don't have to wonder about any house rules or protocol. 

Its nice.
Its familiar.
But boy is it messy. 
Living for a month with nothing but what I had in my car has made me realize just how chaotic my space at home is. There is so. much. stuff.

Before this trip I had never had to be organized before; at least not in a way that really mattered. My room in its current state is a mess of clothing and accessories and musical instruments and memories surrounding an island of a bed in the corner. 
On tour everything had a purpose, a function, and a place. Each part of my life had a bag or pack that it belonged in. If I needed something I went to the appropriate pocket, dug it out, used it, and put it back IMMEDIATELY because if I didn't I would inevitably forget it. I learned that last lesson the hard way, my glasses are still at a friends apartment in Los Angeles. 

Despite the monotony of packing and unpacking and repacking and moving again, I love being on the road. I love who I am on the road. More confident and solid. I found for the first time a sense of comfort in being perpetually outside of my comfort zone. I established a sense of trust with myself that I don't think I've ever felt before.
I think I used to rely on the space around me to bring me comfort, lots of things to make me feel safe, lots of stuff in case I needed it. But I have realized that I don't need it anymore, I can thrive on much, much less. Comfort isn't something that comes from an external source, but an internal state of being. Now that I recognize how much of my space is dominated by excess, I get to purge and create space for more adventure in my life. I get to decide what is important to me and make spaces to honor my music, my art, my health, my work, my style. 
 
So now its time for me apply some of the lessons from the road to my life at home. 
My wardrobe has already been halved and I plan to go rack up some mad store credit at the local thrift store tomorrow. A real desk and comfortable chair to work at are absolutely in my future. Maybe a filing cabinet, or something home-office-y to organize my papers. Easily accessible homes for my instruments and recording equipment will streamline the writing and recording process.

I'm really excited to see what this mess looks like when I'm done. I've done a lot of growing these past few weeks, and I was a little nervous about coming home and getting stuck in old habits, but I'm definitely less nervous now. I've got too much to do, I've grown too much, its only up from here. 

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There are many stories from the road that I will share, but I want to leave you with this one. 
This picture was taken at sunrise from a natural rock formation overlooking the town of Ashland Oregon. 
Shivering in my flowing blue dress and light coat that I'd worn to my show the night before.
A late night jam session which turned into an early morning tour of a city I'd never been to but couldn't shake the feeling that I knew.
A hot cup of coffee in one hand, and my trailing skirt in the other as we forged through the brush, racing the sun as it started to light the sky.
We made it just in time, as the sun broke over the top of the mountain and spilled across the town and the hills that surrounded it. 
Warmth found its way back into my bones as I stood there in awe of life and how incredibly lucky I was to be living it.  

Ashland Sunrise

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Song of the moment:
 

Copyright Korbe Canida 2015