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Heart{h} and Home


I have never been so attached to a place than I have been to this Victorian apartment on Fulton Street in San Francisco. For almost 10 years I've lived in this beautiful, sunny studio near Golden Gate Park within two miles of the ocean. It has been my home in every sense of the word...a sanctuary, safe haven, dwelling of sweetness. From the moment I walked in, I felt my body come alive with its large Bay windows overlooking the San Francisco Bay,.The old apartment was built in 1912 and ushered in a new me that I never would have imagined could exist today.

As of yesterday I no longer live there and my heart hurts for this place in a way that doesn't make logical sense. I miss having small gatherings of women sitting on my floor there, squished into the kitchen. I miss when some of my dear friends lived down the hall and I would saunter down in my robe whenever I wanted. My heart aches for howling on the roof under the full moon and watching the sun rise over the Bay from my bed. I'm grieving all the people I love who have come in and out of that space--everyone I have hugged, kissed, and made love to there.

It was also my cat's first home and there are so many fond and traumatizing things that happened shortly after I adopted her...Like the time she escaped from my apartment and somehow opened the neighbor's door downstairs and hid under their bed. Or when she ran onto the roof when I brought home deer antlers and I chased her naked and shoeless across rooftops.

I miss walking to my favorite tree late at night and kissing it or bringing it offerings. Or wandering through the park to greet all my favorite flowers...the fuschia, dahlias, roses that all live nearby. I worry whomever lives there next won't understand how special it is, won't notice the way that one tree outside the window sways differently in the breeze than the other two. Or that there is a random, weird troll head protecting it on the south side of the building.

So with all of this in my heart, I said goodbye the best way I knew candles, kissing the walls, dancing and singing, and crying in a ball on the floor. I wailed and mourned with as much fierceness and softness as I have felt in a very long time--then I whispered "goodbye" through tears and put the keys on the counter and left.

I imagined living in that apartment until I was in my 40s or 50s quietly with my cat, like my 80-year old neighbor Dorothy whose rent I used to deliver. Aging in a space near so much good food and interesting people. But, I'm a different woman now than when I moved in, she's actually whom I've leaving behind. I moved into the apartment when I was 28 and was excited with city life, in graduate school getting my Master's degree. Truth is that I miss her, she was more lighthearted, better at covering up her emotions, less self-aware and actually stayed out past 10 p.m.

Now, I'm a wild and wise woman and witch who honors her depth and emotional intensity in a way the younger version who moved in pre-Saturn Return was able to. I'm no longer afraid of solitude and have a deeper relationship to myself and my need for quiet and to move more slowly is sinking in...a need that the city can't meet me in.

In depth psychology the home is a physical manifestation of our inner worlds, and in astrology reflects the moon in our chart. Some combinations may become more attached to where they live and crave more stability....with a Cancer rising, Cancer progressed Sun, Taurus natal Sun, and Moon with Saturn, the relationship to where I live is my identity (Cancer) and how I orient to myself. I crave stability in a home life (Moon-Saturn) that can sometimes become stuck. And without realizing it my move was more about becoming unstuck and being uncomfortable more than anything else.

But Saturn is also grief, loneliness, and sadness and this home was also a place of coldness, it had a tiny stove and no real way to stay warm besides a tiny electric wall heater. My new home has a large gas heater and stove for creating warmth and is in a community of other lone wolves that seem to have welcomed me the pack even more warmly than I was expecting. While I know this transition was well-timed and necessary, this cozy home of mine, just like San Francisco will always have a bit of my heart.

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