We just moved yesterday.

Well, that’s not totally accurate. We just arrived at our newest location yesterday; moving is a process that takes weeks, months. Moving is constant. Even when we are stationary, we are in the process of unpacking, putting away, cleaning, negotiating space. At this point in my life, I have lived in a more than a half dozen cities and nearly a half dozen states… with much more to come, I’m certain.

I lived in Salisbury, MD until I was eight, when we moved to Kalamazoo, MI. At age 10, it was off to Muskegon, MI. For college, Adrian, MI: I moved 8 times in college, to various dwellings on and off campus related to my jobs or sorority involvement. After that, I had the privilege to move in with the love of my life in Ann Arbor, MI… since then, our work has led us to Portland, OR; Denver, CO; Detroit, Interlochen, and Traverse City, MI; and most recently, Santa Fe, NM. Now we are back in Traverse City, but already eyeing our next move, the next place we’ll go, the next locale we’ll absorb into our story.

I’ll admit, it’s tiring. Moving is physically exhausting, sure, but also mentally taxing in a unique way. For me, the organizational aspect comes naturally, but the fact that I have to “put off” my other goals and tasks in favor of the logistics of a move drives me absolutely wild. The artificial-yet-necessary delay to pursuing my personal goals both maddens me with impatience and reinvigorates me in my pursuit. If I feel too stagnant, moving is a sure way to remind me that there is nothing I would rather do than what I felt stagnant doing; I just needed a shake-up, a moment of reflection, which usually comes as I’m 3D-Tetris-ing items into boxes.

The effect of change, welcomed change, is powerful. As I type, I am fully feeling the gentle elation that comes from completing one phase of life and embarking on another (even though I haven’t unpacked at all). Moving is a clean break, a fresh start, the chance to redecorate without buying new furniture. Moving is an easy delineation between significant eras of life, which otherwise might pass unnoticed. Moving is a chance to assess, debrief, discuss the roses and thorns of a certain period, and prune away what no longer serves.

(I also think it helps when moving comes about during this transformational time of year; the sun is still strong, but there’s a shifting crispness in the air. The light turns rich instead of bright, and if you look closely, the leaves are already tinged with gold. When the seasons change, we are ripe for change as well.)

Depending on your living situation, your next move begins before you’ve even finished your current move. If there’s a deadline to your stay, such as a lease or rental agreement, every action is considered a part of moving. You may eagerly usher your boxes in on day one of the lease, but even then you’re contributing to and calculating the work you’ll need to do to remove them again. Is it really worth it to unpack that vase? Well, if not, why do we have it anyway? Let’s get rid of it. Let’s remove it. But… isn’t that still a form of moving?

Remove: “re-move:” not the opposite of move, but the repetition of it, the continuation of a state of movement, which we are all in, in perpetuity. Homes are not ours—just as land is not ours—rather, we belong to our homes, as residents and caretakers, for an amount of time. Even those of us who have lived in the same houses since birth (and how many have, really?) are inherently transient, happily shifting bits of our lives in and out, using verbiage like “shopping,” “donations,” “trash,” “gifts,” “supplies,” “excess,” as our reasons for change. We are used to being afraid of change, resistant to it; we rarely realize just how often we actively seek it out.

Moving is a permanent state of being, and those who think otherwise have an inaccurate perception of their own longevity on earth. Even the earth is moving, hurtling through space in such a way that we are never in the same place as we were before.

Despite the tedium and effort of keeping track of belongings, the benefits of embracing moving are unparalleled. Because of moving, I am more worldly, and I have been through so much that can only be communicated through personal experience. I know where to find the best food. I know where the traffic is insane, and why. I know where to find otherworldly experiences, and where to seek community. I know how to meet new people, whether they are nameless coffee shop acquaintances or budding new friendships. I’ve seen the tallest trees and the most brilliant sunsets. I know how to make a graceful exit from any situation. I know what I deserve, and how to say goodbye to anything less.

To quote my favorite musical, at a moment when the protagonist is receiving advice from his muse:
“Move on. Stop worrying where you’re going; move on. If you can know where you’re going, you’ve gone. Just keep moving on.”
–Sunday in the Park with George

As I rest and ponder where to place my bookshelves, I know their position is only temporary, and I do not resent this fact. Things change, and that is what makes experiences worthwhile. Just like in theatre, the transience of life is what makes it beautiful and, unexpectedly, enduring. It becomes easier to make choices, knowing this. Perhaps I’m near a lake this month, but maybe I can be on top of a mountain next time.