As much as someone could ever truly land somewhere, I have landed. I've spent a week building, arranging, acclimating, working, communing, eating, organizing, cleaning, laughing, enjoying, struggling, trying, practicing, reading... in short, living. Here, in my new home. And in that week, I've begun to feel like this IS a home, my home; I have a home, and it is here.

My room, in it's mostly finished state. I didn't even pick the purple wall! It just came that way.

So far, I've been spending my mornings working in veggie prep (peeling, chopping, and rinsing vegetables in the kitchen to get them ready for the cooks to use), with afternoons free to settle in and contemplate. It's been the right pace for me, since a) I only operate at one speed and so am completely physically drained by the time lunch comes around, and b) I hadn't really taken stock of how exhausted I was from the nonstop working-packing-moving show that my life has been for the last couple of months. The kitchen is staffed with an eclectic mix of locals from the surrounding towns (including a troupe of astonishingly sweet guys in a program that trains special needs folks for full-time jobs, who have love lives far more colorful than my own and who know an awful lot about Marvel comics and Nickelodeon cartoons), some long-time Institute residents who came here after they retired and have 20 years worth of stories and gossip, and a French-Canadian chef who is equally versed in Ayurvedic principles and Tartine sourdough bread. The food is nourishing and healthy; there's dairy and hearty protein and the aforementioned delicious bread and butter served with every meal, and though we get our veggies on trucks like everyone else, I've seen firsthand how fresh the produce is and how picky we are in selecting only the tasty bits for our dishes. After a couple of weeks of working here, I'll transition into my more permanent role on the business side of things, which might include work for the creative/marketing team as well as the finance group.

Practicing in one of the many beautiful yoga spaces available on campus.

If there's a recurring theme so far, it's one of pleasant surprises. From immediately finding a group of dudes not unlike any other nerdy friendgroup I've had in the past, to the fact that people in ashrams like Dungeons & Dragons and Game of Thrones and the occasional pizza and beer on the weekend, to the candor with which people here talk about everything from past Himalayan Institute scandals to current struggles with Parkinson's, it seems like every day brings a new sigh of relief or giggle of delight. It's not that I wasn't hoping for all of this, it's more the dawning realization that I'm in the right place. That the voice in the back of my head that whispered, then pestered, then screamed that this move was the right decision... wasn't wrong. My intuition, as it turns out (again), doesn't eff around. I am way less anxious and my moods are more stable since I've arrived. Even my skin looks better. That's not to say there aren't things I miss; with a program steeped in traditional meditation techniques and a daily yoga class schedule that has to accommodate a range of abilities and includes the elderly, I've had to supplement with a more vigorous and rigorous home practice. I'm having trouble making it to morning and evening group meditations in our shrine. There are communal eating and shared shower situations to acclimate to, and (like with any new company or city) local politics to navigate. But through it all, people have been genuine, and warm, and welcoming, and I feel, even in this completely foreign situation and surrounded by new faces, pretty darn safe. Maybe more safe than I have in a while. And when you have a stable and rooted base, all kinds of upward, outward, and unexpected growth happens.

I am here. I am open. And truly, I am ready.