Ever see that old movie, THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH? Of course this phrase has become a cliché and even though it is based somewhat on research, it serves to remind us that change is good and boredom is the death knoll of our existence. At least it is for me. Being an Aquarian, I’m particularly prone to this and must continually remind myself to appreciate what I have and not always be looking for greener pastures.
Did you know that in seven years every atom in your body will be replaced by new atoms? They will migrate to someone or something else. And at this very moment your new atoms are vibrating around in some other body or thing until they get passed on to you. I’ve already explained that every atom in our bodies once resided in a star, right? So you’re not totally shocked, right? Some of my atoms might be running around inside your body seven years from now. A little icky? Sorry.
I’ve written before about how I get excited and involved over something new, reach an important milestone in that endeavor, and then just walk away. I’m satisfied with my accomplishment and never look back. I used to berate myself about this horrible character trait until my astrologer explained how it’s more about the journey for me than the achievement. It’s the learning, the discovery that excites me. Like the challenge of climbing Mount Everest (which I haven’t done, by the way), once you’ve done it, there’s really no need to do it again.
As I reflect on my life, the number 7 has proved to be entirely and eerily too accurate. In my professional career I changed jobs every seven years almost to the day. I remember when I left the classroom to take my first administrative job, I ditched all my teaching materials in a huge waste can in my office. My colleagues were aghast! “What if you hate your new job and you want to come back to the classroom?” they cried. “Well,” I said, “if I do, I’m doing everything in a new way. I can’t look at these lessons one more time. The boredom will kill me and my students will know. I’ll do something fresh, more innovative, more fun!” They looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I am.
My two sons are launched and content, I’m happily divorced and still quite friendly with my ex, sold my big house and live in a nice quiet condo complex. Tons of my friends have moved to warmer climates and a few too many have traveled off to the next life. And I’m bored, and don’t want to be bored to death. And so the seven-year clock is ticking loudly in my head. I have been in my current living space for seven years, again, exactly to the day. And so I’m moving. Out of state. Seven hours away from my children to embark on a new life. I do have family there, so I’m not walking into a strange new land among total strangers. I’m adventuresome, not stupid. I love decorating a new place, excited about different color schemes, furniture, and other accouterments. My sister has a studio where I can flex my artistic muscles in a different way. She fuses colored glass into all sorts of cool things: vases, wall hangings, dishes, clocks… I’ve played there with her and her friends often and always come home with some amazing pieces to the delight of my friends and family when I bestow my birthday gifts upon them. And the area I’m moving to is a bustling new town, lots to do, more of an urban setting as opposed to my quiet country existence. That was great when I was raising children, but now it offers little opportunity for being adventuresome.
And it’s Spring! The perfect time for a new beginning, me and Mother Nature in sync, bosom buddies. So, wish me luck! I figure I’ve got seven years in my new digs before the urge to move comes knocking at my door again. The Seven Year Itch has served me well, so far. Maybe I should bet the number 7 somewhere. Maybe a quick trip to Vegas?