Homecoming

Landing. Rooting. Grounding. Belonging...

Traveling away from home between Christmas and New Year's Eve was a treat, a chance to touch base with my Oregon roots, walk amongst the trees, reconnect with an old friend, bring people together, share meals, time and space. A time for Javier and I to walk and talk about our past, present and our future. Current landings in our lives, personal and work, our son graduated from college and generating income, Javier's grown son in his early thirties, a grown daughter a few years younger with her hardworking husband and their three beautiful kiddos, our daughter dreaming daily and lighting up our lives with her spark and creative energy. Mothers and mothers in law, his sisters and brother, nieces, nephews, cousins galore. My lifelong friend and family, an extension of my own. Family in Eastern, Oregon. Ancestors who traveled from Russia to Lithuania, Poland, Germany and the US. From Ireland and Scotland. Spain and France. Our current family, tribe, our sense of belonging. Time away from home to see our homelife with a fresh perspective. Remembering a conversation ten years earlier while in Oaxaca and the goal to simplify our lives. The decade it took to root those steps, to ground together and walk into the threshold of this chapter in our lives together.

In spite of our traquil intentions, twenty twenty got off to a bumpy start. Challenges in homecoming. "Stranded" in the middle, between Portland, Oregon and Los Barriles, Baja California Sur. Javier and I landed in Los Angeles, moved as quickly as we could to find a monitor, our connecting flight and saw the word canceled. Like any homeward bound and hopeful travelers, we did the next natural thing. Run to another monitor in the hopeless endevour of finding our flight anything but canceled.  New Year's Eve away from our kids for the first time ever. So close to home yet so far away. We got our vouchers for hotel and food and gloomily walked towards the exit to find a shuttle after messaging home: We'll be home tomorrow, as maturely as possible. Javier's message was the most emoji full and emotional I've ever seen: sad faces, tear faces, mad faces. Paloma wrote back: Go have a nice dinner! So, we did. When you are "stuck" at a nice hotel with delicious food and a warm bed, it is wise to remember as quickly as possible: This is a first world problem. We are safe, our kids are safe. Stay put, breathe and be where you are.

Landing in Baja the after with more delayed flights, our ride home asking us to wait one more hour while he waited for another couple to land. Our flight was late, the next one was early. Again, here we are in the middle - so close to home yet so far away - with the back of a van popped open, lemonade, chips and guacamole. I sent a picture home to the kids with the caption: Airport Beach!

Riding along the unusually green lined highway, we heard a loud noise, looked to left and watched in horror as a white truck veered off the road, into the desert and kept on going. Going and going and I prayed it would stop before tragedy when I watched it lift off and flip. Healing energy, more prayers and ambulance sirens and police trucks coming towards the accident. Please let the driver be safe, let his or her body be whole and healthy and let us land at home, safe and sound. 

"The body is a sacrament. The old, traditional definition of sacrament captures this beautifully. A sacrament is a visible sign of invisible grace. In that definition there is a fine acknowledgement of how the unseen world comes to expression in the visible world. This desire for expression lies deep at the heart of the invisible world. All our inner life and intimacy of soul longs to find an outer mirror. It longs for a form in which it can be seen, felt, and touched. The body is the mirror where the secret world of soul comes to expression. The body is a sacred threshold; and it deserves to be respected, minded, and understood in its spiritual nature."

John O'Donohue

Arriving at our gate with our bodies in tact, our minds frazzled and tired, our hearts and souls grateful to hear the sound of our dogs annouce our arrival, Dylan and Paloma come out to greet us, happy together, in one piece and not a day later. Rain fell on New Year's Day, Javier made a fire, we got pizza and opened a bottle of red wine.  

Landing. Rooting. Grounding. Belonging. The call to come home being an elemental piece of this daily adventure called life. Coming home to my own body, heart, mind and soul. Feeling my feet connect with the ground. Putting one foot in front of the other. Practicing the art of accepting myself and others, as we are; the art of simplicity, patience and compassion; the art of being and living fully. All to the best of my imperfect abilities. One breath at a time, minute to minute, day by day.

No matter where I am, whether it is in our family home, or far away from this dwelling, the call to come home to myself, to land, root, ground and belong, remember my ancestors and husband's ancestors, those came who came before and will come after, to stay put, breathe and be  where I am with gratitude for all the beauty and abundance are at the core and heart of this existence. 

“When you go out into the woods, and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree.

The minute you get near humans, you lose all that. And you are constantly saying ‘You are too this, or I’m too this.’ That judgment mind comes in. And so I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are.”

Ram Dass