Welcome Home

My favorite adventuring partner with me soaking in the Oregon coast.

I am finding myself living into this season of a welcoming home. This is wiggling its way into my being in the smallest and the most profound of ways. Home might be a place, like my red rock desert, the cobblestones felt beneath my feet in Italy, the ocean tossing and turning me around in my former island home or the verdant forests of the Pacific Northwest where I discover myself today. They might also be parts of myself that I have carefully stowed away because they caused discomfort. A homecoming was not part of my imminent plan quite yet.

There are aspects of myself that I have exiled and I’m not even sure why? I grew up in a home where I could fully BE Joanie, and was celebrated for it. Yet, those parts of myself that I found curious, intriguing, were not always as welcomed outside of the home as they were inside. This felt very confusing for my young self.

Saying whatever popped into my mind, without a filter could be hurtful and even jarring. Overhearing my very patient and understanding mother on the phone. Telling whomever called that she would be speaking with me about it. Whatever flavor of it presented itself.

Expressing what was coming into my intuitive self as a child often was met with looks of bewilderment. Perhaps even shock. I was tapping into something that I often could not identify the source of? Thank goodness my mother in particular was open, understanding, and curious about what was coming in for me. Guiding and encouraging a depth of listening within, an attentiveness, and to trust. Encouraging and expanding an inward, rather than outward gaze.

Presently I am visualizing the mother archetype with her soft, long arms outstretched. Beckoning me forward. No hiding nor stowaways. All are welcome. It is fascinating to see who is showing up. My most magical, colorful self has been making her entrance. Feeling amazed at her iridescent presentations. As if I’m being adorned within a brilliant rainbow radiating its own signature pulse.

The exiled part of myself which cause embarrassment, and even shame at times for making mistakes are fully out of the closet. Humility with speaking openly about these moments. Creating more opportunities for bridge building, and adding in extra doses of laughter too. I'm unsure how I could navigate without humor? Taking myself too seriously has never served me.

An ongoing paradox. As a teacher, I openly shared why we would wear down our eraser sides of our pencils far more quickly than the lead.

Mistakes were referred to as learning opportunities.

Experiencing a huge exhale. I am certain now that I was expressing it as much for myself as I was my little charges.

Wondering why I held such a high and unattainable bar for myself for many years? It brought me no joy, created frustration followed by an overly caffeinated ego with a severe case of the zoomies.

The bar has come toppling down, my self talk is far more gentle and kind most days. Everyone is benefitting, especially me.  Those exiled parts, the ones that are asking to be dusted off are arriving one by one. I’m most curious about who is arriving?

Make a cup of tea, let’s get cozy. Tell me all about yourself. What are you yearning to share?

I’m listening.

I’m here now.

We have much catching up to do.

Coming Home by Mary Oliver

When we are driving in the dark,

on the long road to Provincetown,

when we are weary,

when the buildings and the scrub pines lose their familiar look,

I imagine us rising from the speeding car.

I imagine us seeing everything from another place--the top of one of the pale dunes, or the deep and nameless fields of the sea.

And what we see is a world that cannot cherish us,

but which we cherish.

And what we see is our life moving like that

along the dark edges of everything,

headlights sweeping the blackness,

believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things.

Looking out for sorrow,

slowing down for happiness,

making all the right turns

right down to the thumping barriers to the sea,

the swirling waves,

the narrow streets, the houses,

the past, the future,

the doorway that belongs

to you and me.

*My gratitude for your presence here. If you like what you are reading, clicking on the heart at the bottom of the page helps me get this out into the ethers. Also, your comments are engaging, assisting our community, and please never hesitate if you feel called to pass any along to someone you are thinking of.