After 3-1/2 years of living in the most gorgeous house of my life, I'm moving to Colorado.

As I've spent weeks ridding the house of excess junk and beginning to pack, I realized I felt an odd sense of detachment from the house, even though it holds a lot of sweet memories. Was that sense of detachment and anxiety caused by people who had offered unsolicited advice about our decision to leave or about our relationship? I wasn't certain. One person I barely knew, for instance, told me she was considering an intervention to persuade me (stop me?) from getting married. Another person told Bob he was marrying outside of his religion because I converted to Judaism. Others tried to persuade Bob concerning how and when to move forward with his life, including what possessions he should keep or give away.

At best, it seemed the house I'd lived in was a place for which I felt little attachment; at worst, a place from which I wanted to escape.

Then, the other night I was lying on the floor listening to music and a song came on by Rick Calvert:

"Blessed are you who have entered here; May you be blessed."  


"May you be blessed as you go forth from this place."

Suddenly I was completely swept away by these lyrics. Rising from the floor, I Involuntarily opened my arms widely and swept them across the room, as if others were standing around me (I could feel them!) and I was handing them something tangible. "Blessed are you who have entered here!!"

Alternately, I became a conduit for the sweetness that seemed to flood every fiber of my being, gracing our departure: blessed are (we) as we go forth from this place."

As engaged as my body became, however, it felt I had floated away from it and, in my spirit, received and distributed some kind of powerful, spiritual energy, flooding me, consuming me. It went on and on until finally I couldn't receive any more and I stopped, stunned, my body feeling vibratory. Then I collapsed, sobbing.

Bob stood watching, uncertain what to do or what was going on with me. As I cried, he came over and gently asked me if I was happy or sad. "I'm not sure," I replied. "Neither? Both?" I was still so overwhelmed I could barely speak.

As I lay there with my eyes closed, hundreds of people "walked through my door" and we shared the same ethereal space. Friends who had eaten in my sukkah, danced in my living room, slept in my guest room, participated in our house blessing, even those who had worked for me... all of them seemed to be present with me, moving this house beyond its physical beauty into a place filled with family and friends. It seemed crazy, but people who had moved my furniture, painted my rooms, or repaired my air conditioner... the powerful forces flowing from me emanated to every person who had helped make my house beautiful in the deepest, most meaningful, sense of the word.

Most importantly, though, I knew our departure, despite leaving those we love and will miss, would be filled with the most amazing, Divine joy.

Now, as we prepare to move, we offer our most heartfelt blessings to those who have supported and encouraged us - and we offer the same blessing to those who have not. Tomorrow, we will walk through each room, and leave blessings for those who will live here after we leave. But above all, we will bless ourselves and each other as we flow along in the adventure of life.

I love you all. I will miss you.