I just returned from a quick trip to the high plains and Black Hills of South Dakota, the place that I call home. I was hungry for wide open skies, glorious sunrises and sunsets, warm days and chilly nights. A late spring snow storm bracketed this visit - up to 2 feet of snow fell the week before I arrived, snow tapered off when I flew in, several more inches fell during the week I was there, more snow was moving in as I left. Beautiful whiteness blanketed the ground with its familiar quietude. I saw a few friends, completed some scheduled work, visited sacred places. The snowfall precluded any other plans. Mother Nature seemed to create a space for Her work and nothing else in these brief moments. I was delighted to sit by the fire and be a part of Her doings, letting go of my own agenda. I felt like I was home again. The timing was impeccable.
Now I am west of the Rockies, west of the Cascades, back in this verdant valley and farmlands near the sea. Lush green is everywhere. Bird song fills the daylight hours, soft rain falls on the roof at night. My family down the road adopted Sophie for a week, giving her another place where she can be at home and have a job, guarding her pack. I’m catching up on soccer games, dance recitals, talent shows, poetry and art events; deepening connections. I feel like I’m home again. The timing is impeccable.
And so I am torn between two loves. Home is the wide open spaces of Dakota, filled with my history, with dear friends and beloved places. And home is the valley by the rivers of the northwest rainforest where I am creating a new story, making friends, deepening connections. I’m holding two places close to my heart. I’m moving from an "either-or" dichotomy to "both-and" embracing. Discovering, once again, that home is an inside space. I can go to the places I love, be with the people I love, immerse my self in the scents and sights and sounds that allow me to flourish; then draw all of this within to decorate my interior landscape. Home abides serene and cherished, as close as my breath.
May it be so for you in all the places that you inhabit . . . . . .
O O O O O O O