Home

(there are song links at the end–you might like to play them while you read!)

Home
It’s the question wherever I go.
“Where’s your home? Where’re you from?”
Sometimes I get “welcome home”, which is nicer.
Usually now I run my fingers down my midline & say, “Here.”
That rarely satisfies them. They want to fit me into something they know–a landscape, a culture, a country, a word that represents it all, even if somewhat abstractly instead of from first-hand experience of the place, the people, the patriotism.
Which is interesting because when I ask people what’s home for them–what do they miss the most?–it’s the people. Rarely is it the natural environment. I suppose this is how some people migrated in the first place–they were more attached to one another than to the land, so as long as they still had one another the landscape could shift around them. Or why other people go back to the same land–because their people have lived there for as far back as anyone can remember. The place & the people are woven together.
The way my life has run so far I’ve lived in a number of different places & I’ve connected to people from those places & also from other places I haven’t even been to yet. With all the moving–of myself & others–I’ve come to accept that nothing lasts as it was. So even though people are more home to me than land, I have learned to love people lightly. Perhaps–in an attempt to protect myself–too lightly. I have not always gone so fully into intimacy in order to avoid the inevitable separation that is part of togetherness. That has been shifting slowly. Some lessons can take lifetimes if we let them.

This brings me to my current theme, a lesson I’m aiming to learn in this lifetime: Trust the Longer Journey–Blossom Now!
In an effort to free up some resources I’ve sold a good bit of my belongings over these past 2 1/2 years that I’ve been living out of suitcases. I wasn’t exactly a hoarder. I’d prefer to say a collector, which isn’t the best word to comine with nomad. As I learned how to let go of stuff, I realized that I had been afraid. We didn’t have much growing up so anything that was given to me I’d keep & make some use of, eventually. There was a fear in me of not having, even of not being, enough. And a fear that I would not be given any more, that I could not count on being supported.

So it became a revolutionary act within my psyche to ‘give it all away’, which has been my guiding motto through these times.
Yet I have been holding back for years & for another reason. The way I saw the natural cycle of things was that after bloom & fruit, dissolution & death come. This turned out to be short-sighted of me. The cycles are infinite.
What helped me was to say to myself, “blossom now, as brightly & as fully as you can, & trust that there will be more blossoms to come.” The fear was that if I shot my load all at once (so to speak), I’d be done for. The game would be over.
Have you ever seen a plant bloom after being totally neglected — no water or light or love? This reminds me of the baby boomers — an entire generation of babies born in the face of death. Nothing like deprivation to get the seeds flying. There’s a procreative brilliance to nature that never gives up. I’m learning how to model this in myself.

What am I holding back, & what for?

So now I go about the world like it is my own home, like I belong here, anywhere. And like I have the right to bloom everywhere. I look closely at the myriad wonders that make up each moment. Animals & children seem to like it, but socialized adults find it unnerving to be looked at so closely, though they do generally respond well to kindness & good cheer. It seems an absolute ass-backwards approach to the dire dilemmas of the world we face, & daily. Yet we don’t criticize the flowers for so brazenly opening their beauty up to the sky. We sometimes even thank them.

Some places I’ve had the remarkable fortune to visit are so barren that flowers stand out as bright & brave souls.

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While in Iceland I was introduced to Ásgeir & Going Home is one of my favorite songs of his.

Here it is in Icelandic–Heimförin–just because it’s such a cool language to listen to.

 

May you know home in yourSelf, wherever you Be.

I’d love to hear what that feels/looks like for thee!

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