Wishing I could go Home

Fall is here and I’m missing my blood elders who’ve crossed over (and several non-blood elders too for that matter). The veil is thinner, you can feel it. The images of their faces cross my mind a few times a day sometimes. And the chills cross through my body like soft river waves pulling the blood back to seawater. They are here. Living in between. A reminder of life beyond this life -- and deeper in the bones.

And there’s something about their closeness that reminds me that I am not from here.

In the past, that “I’m not from here” feeling surfaced as a desperate need to end physical suffering. It surfaced from a place of being alone, misunderstood and wanting to leave this body, this plane all together.

With this song, I’ve noticed a shift. I know I will be returning to an unfettered soul state one day. Home. With them. We all will. But the feeling my song brings to me is not a death wish. It’s thinning the veil in a different way. Somehow, the closeness I feel to my elders has reawakened a yearning for that expansive soul state -- and fall gives you a taste for that. Call it the universe, call it heaven, call it connection, call it infinite love or God/Goddess. As the veil thins, my connection to my elders is a reminder that I’m not from here - but that I AM here. And that my work is to seek that expansiveness with every (other) breath - here. And that my yearning to meet them again, this soul state again, to bring this soul state to this earth is what drives everything I do here. The thinning of the veil has made me feel more here. More alive. More at Home.

For years I’ve meditated on the concept of home.

Become attached to visions of what this home should look like -- yes, of course, radical visions we all have shared (I know because we all have the same visions of collective life). From the house I live in to the people I commune with, the food I eat, the cultural fabric we so carefully weave, the essence of home has always remained the same. But the image of home has grown and shifted. The losses, the pains have required me to let go of whatever vision I am clinging to and seek, instead, wholeness with every breath. The kind of day-to-day wholeness, at home-ness, that will chart the journey Home.