Home Sweet Home

I’m not sure if this is whack-a-doodle or not, but I can honestly say it is all true.

A year and a half ago, my son and I lived in a cute little cabin high above the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains in California. I used to meditate very early every morning, often while it was still dark, outside on the porch. I absolutely loved the serenity, the peacefulness and the beauty of the location.

During January 2009, I experienced several weeks of meditation where images of raging fires came to me. Thinking I knew how my mind works (everything is a metaphor to me), I began to go into inquiry about what the fires might mean symbolically: Was I enraged about something that was coming into my conscious awareness? Was I “on fire” with a new passion about to be released? Was my fiery red hair out of control and in need of a haircut?

As I pondered these options over several days, my visual images became aural. Yes, I started hearing voices, or more accurately, I started to hear one insistent voice…everyday…for a week. This voice told me that fires “were coming” and that I “needed to physically move.” (Yes, my friends…welcome to my world of my inner knowing correcting my conscious mind.) This was no metaphor. I needed to go.

As nutso as it may sound, I decided to go with my inner knowing and, despite my love for my current locale, look for a home in the foothills.

I scoured Craig’s List on an hourly basis; I devoured the local newspaper everyday, I “lived” on on-line home rental sites. I finally found a home (still in the mountains but closer to the foothills). I loved it. It was perfect. All was arranged with the new landlord until I went over to give my first month’s rent and deposit. He told me that he had rented it to someone else. You see, I had some credit issues that I was very upfront with him about, but in the end he decided I was too much of a risk. I was heartbroken. I really, really, really thought this was “my home.”

In resuming my search, I decided I needed a strong vision so I could focus more on what it was that I really, really, really wanted in a home. Here is my list:

1. Lots of light
2. Lots of fresh air
3. A feeling of warmth, a feeling that “love lives here”
4. A feeling of being surrounded by feminine energy
5. Big enough for my son and I and our friends

It was back to Craig’s List, the newspaper, and the on-line sites. Nothing…for weeks. I had just about given up hope and resigned myself to the fact that my meditative thoughts were, frankly, just a wee bit coo-coo when, suddenly, I looked up and saw “it” while I was sitting in my car in a strip mall parking lot waiting for my son. "It" was tacked to a telephone pole. “It” was a half-sized piece of paper on which was a brief handwritten description of a home rental.

Who posts For Rent signs on telephone poles anymore????

Since my son was going to be late, and I had nothing else to do, I called the number. A woman answered and described the house to me. Two bedrooms, one bath, the square footage (more than my cabin), lots of light, her childhood home, new windows, the street address (a GREAT neighborhood!)…hmmmmm. It sounded promising! It had the potential to satisfy everything I was looking for in a home or so it seemed. I was VERY intrigued.

Then she told me the price.

It was $600 less than what I had been paying?? And my credit problem? (a long disputed issue with the electric company, which barred me from getting an electric bill in my name, so I had to convince my potential landlord to use their name and include the electricity charges in the rent).

This house??? The electricity was included in the rent.

Now, I’m thinking to myself, I know the area this house is in, and rents are far from cheap. This house is significantly below the current rents in that area. Therefore, I told myself, either this place is a DUMP or she is bullsh*&%ting me about just about everything to do with the house. With very low expectations and not a lot of hope or excitement, I decided to go ahead and see it.

When I met Ava outside the house, there was an immediate connection with her, and when we entered the space, there was an immediate connection with the house. It had absolutely everything I wanted.

There was one caveat. I had to get the approval of Ava’s 90 year old Hungarian mother because she owns the house, and, oh yeah, she lives in the back house on the property. We walked back so I could meet her, and the moment Ava’s mother (Lonci) and I laid eyes on each other; we embraced with the kind of love reserved for family members. We had each other from “Hello.” I didn’t know, at the time, what it was about me that she responded to, but I knew exactly what I was responding to in her…

She is the spitting image of my mother (with an Hungarian accent).

Ava’s Hungarian-speaking older sister was also there visiting from Hungary. She responded to the interaction between her mom and I by standing close to me, smiling, looking into my eyes, stroking the entire length of my left arm (over and over again), and speaking to me in Hungarian as if I could understand her perfectly. I was surrounded by the feminine energy I asked for. I felt totally and absolutely bathed in love.

My son and I moved in a month later (May 2009), and I have lived in this home with these women and with my son (happily and gratefully) ever since.

Oh, and four months after I moved, the home I “left” and the home I “lost” to a “more qualified” tenant were both in the fire zone when the wildfires hit.

So, in response to the question, “Who posts For Rent signs on telephone poles anymore????” To me, the answer is simple.

God.