On the recommendation of a friend, I am doing this exercise. I was going to do yoga instead, but my yoga space is still quite damp so I will return to it this afternoon. I was busy Friday and over the weekend, so Free Write Tuesday it is.
So I grabbed a cup of coffee and returned to bed to write (here I can sit cross-legged and it’s ALMOST like yoga). I can’t remember the last time I did anything of the sort. A coffee, some comfort, and writing, what could be better?
To be homesick for a place that does not exist…I feel this way all the time. I have lived all over the world, loved and lost numerous people, hoped and dreamed and divined a better existence for myself. Yet sometimes I do feel as though something is missing and there is somewhere else I should be, something else I should be doing, someone else to love.
This is quite normal I think, or more normal than we allow ourselves to believe. When I write I get pretty darn close to that space. I like to think of it as multiple universes, we are trying to touch our other existences like Adam reaching out to God. We are reaching for something and uncertain of its power, but we know, it can only bring us to a better place.
Often people might say I don’t believe in God. But I do believe in a human’s power to harness God-like qualities. I am reading a book about making miracles in your life and boy do I feel it’s working. Ultimately it doesn’t matter if it actually does work, but when you feel better and are more productive that’s a miracle, right?
Anyway, back to the source…the place I am homesick for, that I always see in my mind, is a little glen in a forest near a spring. It is purple, with shades of twilight at its edges at night. It is grey or golden during the day. There is an infinite amount of space to explore, but the glen is so amazingly peaceful that it is just tempting to stay and stay until all worry is washed away.
I am also homesick for a little door that was on the side of the building I lived in in Belgium. It didn’t go anywhere, and a new wall had been placed to cover the entrance, but I imagined I could open that door and find whatever I needed, at that moment, as I opened it. When I saw Pan’s Labyrinth awhile back I was disappointed someone had already used a similar idea, but then ultimately I was glad that others go to their same creative source.
I am also homesick for places I know I can never return. Two point 5 years ago my mother died after a very short bout of cancer. People always say this, but she was truly my best friend. I am homesick for her arms, the smell behind her ear when I hugged her, and her soft soft hair. I am homesick for the way she always supported and encouraged me, but raged against me like a dragon when she felt I was making mistakes in my life. I know she is with me still, but I am homesick for that place I cannot go; because Mom always was HOME.
Homesick is definitely a state of mind I do not ALLOW myself to feel. There is always sorrow attached: the host father in Holland I will never see again, the lack of little doors to nowhere in Southern California. I also can’t stand the traffic here, and life is so busy, it is often hard to dream of “away” without being tremendously sad when I open my eyes and find where I am.
Having spent the last few months in the Eastern Sierra, admittedly, spoiled me. I did not feel homesick for anywhere there: I felt free and open, bordered by mountains on both sides but not pinned in. Admittedly my allergies got the better of me, and no matter how much water I drank or lotion I put on my skin was still dry. But I could travel so easily in my mind to those homesick places I’d never been, and when I came back I was never disappointed.
I am learning. I am human. I think my pen is dry.