(Painting by my daughter, Sarah.)
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 island home. They might also be parts of myself that I have stowed away because they caused discomfort and a homecoming was not part of my plan 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.
Saying whatever popped into my mind, without a filter could be hurtful and even jarring I discovered as I would hear my mom on the phone telling whomever called that she would be talking with me about it, whatever flavor of it presented itself.
Sharing what was coming into my intuitive self as a child could be met with looks of bewilderment and even shock as if I was tapping into something that I often could not identify the source of. Thank goodness my mother was was open, understanding and asked me to share what was coming in for me. She guided and encouraged me to listen, to pay attention and to trust and not to seek outside validation for something that I recognized was my truth from within.
Presently I am visualizing the mother archetype with her arms outstretched welcoming all aspects of myself to come back home to me. ALL are welcome and it’s been fascinating to see who is showing up. My most colorful self has been making herself known and I adore how bright and vibrant colors make me feel as if I’m clothed within a magical rainbow.
The exiled part of me that can feel embarrassment and even shame at times for making mistakes is fully out of the closet now. Humility and speaking openly about it when it happens has actually created more bridge building moments and a lot of laughter too. I’m not sure how I could navigate without humor as taking myself too seriously just never works out well for me.
It’s a paradox because as a teacher I openly shared why we would use our erasers up faster than our pencil leads because we would be making many mistakes together and what if we could look at them as learning opportunities and not mistakes? I could always feel a huge exhale and I’m certain now that I was saying it as much for myself as I was my little charges. I wonder why I held such a high and unattainable bar for myself for many years and it brought me no joy, only frustration and always feelings of not being enough.
That bar has come toppling down and my self talk is far more gentle and kind these days. Everyone is benefitting most of all me and those exiled parts, the ones that are asking to be dusted off are arriving one by one and I’m most curious about who is arriving? Make a cup of tea, get cozy and tell me all about yourself that you have been yearning to share for quite some time I sense. I’m listening, I’m here now and 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.
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