Had this week’s blog all planned out – an exploration of opinion vs. fact vs. truth – when something happened that underscored some of my internal changes, hitherto unrecognized.
I like warm climates. I really do. I don’t like the cold, I’m not really fond of wind (although breezes are nice), and I would be quite content if the only snow I ever saw was on the Christmas cards sent to me by family and friends.
So why, you ask, do I continue to live in Minnesota?
It gets better; Jerry and I are contemplating moving to South Dakota. He’s tired of paying Minnesota state income taxes, and he wants a lake to fish on. And me, I want a place that’s away from light pollution but near water so I can photograph the stars, sunsets and sunrises, and the Northern Lights. But I don’t just want the Aurora dancing across the sky, with its bands of white and orange and green and purple; I want to capture them dancing across the sky above and the water below.
So, South Dakota it is. At least for a while. And if we find the right place, the place I’m seeing in my head more and more clearly with every read of my DMP, I’ll also have enough space to create self-sustaining garden plots and experiment with aquaponics.
Who doesn’t like to watch fish?
Of course, these aren’t the kinds I’d pair with a vegetable garden – the salt water would wreak havoc on the plants! And these guys aren’t likely to do well in a South Dakota winter. But they illustrate the point. I could watch fish swim and interact with their environment for hours.
So Jerry and I started looking for houses with a few acres in South Dakota – not too townish (I don’t want to see my neighbors, and I especially don’t want them living in my back pocket, you know?) but not too terribly in back of beyond (Jerry likes company and socializing); not too expensive, but not too much a fixer-upper, either. Ideally, I want property – forty acres or so, maybe on or near a wild bird game preserve – with the potential for building or putting a house in. Nothing wrong with a modular home, or even a trailer-style on a permanent foundation. Jerry gets lake and marsh, I get early morning walks and reflections of the skies, and we won’t have to worry about an old farmhouse starting to need extensive upkeep or repairs.
We found a couple we liked, and sent a request through the website to see those places. The realtor who responded asked what our requirements were and offered to line others up for us to see, if we cared to stay overnight (as he said, ‘his treat’) instead of making the five-hour drive, looking at two, and then making the five-hour drive home.
Not going to get too much into the disappointing aspects of the trip – Falls Park, and the Sertoma Butterfly Garden and Marine Cove, made the journey worthwhile all by themselves.
But the house-hunting didn’t go swimmingly. We saw one we liked, a couple that were possible, and were looking forward to seeing more. Our second morning there (yes, we stayed two nights, both on our dime, since the realtor found arranging viewings of all the houses he’d selected for us to be ‘too difficult’ to arrange in one day, despite having a week to get it done) he insisted that we see his niece, a loan officer at a local credit union, to get preapproved for whatever amount our income could bear; houses in the area, particularly with acreage, apparently go so fast “you almost need a purchase agreement in hand before you make an offer.”
I don’t believe in living outside our means. We have financial resources, though they’re somewhat unusual. I’d like to explore the possibilty of keeping our current house and renting it out as extra income.
But the end result was the realtor refused to show us any more places on that day after basically talking us into staying a second night, because “there’s no point in wasting time and money and gas today when you’re not set up to buy anything.”
Was I upset? Yes, very much so. But I didn’t figure out exactly why until we’d been on the road home for an hour or so.
It was backwards. Remember in the beginning, when Mark was talking about how people live life backwards, by allowing their method to inform their intent? A person wants to go to Paris, they look at their bank account and say, “I can’t afford it,” so they never go to Paris? Well, WHO CARES what the bank account says? It’s the intent, held in the mind and back by strong feeling, sent out to the universe via the subconscious mind, that will cause the universe to send us the methods by which we are to accomplish said intent!
Needless to say, when we do find the place that screams, “HI!! I’M YOUR NEW HOME!” we won’t be using that realtor to secure it. Because when we find it, the methods to claim it will also be there – unless Jerry and I allow the backwards nature of the rest of the world to sabotage what our subconsciouses creates for us. But I took the experience as a positive sign that my new programming is finally taking effect; even without knowing it, I’m starting to notice and eliminate influences that aren’t to be part of my new, self-created reality.