It's pretty much mid-winter here in New England and that inevitably leads me to wondering if I am living in the right part of the world. Snow, cold temps, ice, sand, salt, shoveling, digging out jobsites, clearing snow off trucks, tracking all that crap though customers’ houses or my own. Lack of outdoor cardio exercise. Always battling to stay healthy and not getting what the guy next to me in the checkout line hacking and sneezing has. And then last night I dreamt of riding my motorcycle and the roads were dry and the landscape green. Ok, so you get the picture. Definitely challenging after repeated snow storms this year.
For the majority of my adult life I have been fairly nomadic. Since I left high school I have lived in New York, Massachusetts, Virginia, Oregon, Colorado, Montana, Utah, and California. So I know all about changing venues. I have for a long time wanted to live in Madrid New Mexico. Although my beloved has threatened to abandon me if I am remotely serious about relocating there, I often wonder what it would be like. Why Madrid (p. madd-Rid)? Because dogs can roam the streets without fear of the dog catcher. There isn't one. It's outside Santa Fe but far enough away to avoid the glitz. It feels raw and remote and isolated enough to re-connect to the earth. Yeah I know, more snow and cold but it's somehow different in my mind.
Then I contemplate why I ever left the warm lovers embrace of the Pacific coast. Encinitas is such a lovely town. Lots of surf culture, hot rods, and no need for a huge clothing budget. The year I lived there I don't remember wearing long pants. Shorts, flip flops, tee shirt by day, sweatshirt at night. Beautiful ocean. Delicious Mexican food. Barely ever rained. Laid back vibe. Wouldn't it be nice again? To feel warm in January?
Hmmm. What about southern Colorado? Or Boulder? Dry mountain air. Sure it snows but then it is 50 degrees the next day. Piercing blue sky makes you dizzy. Lots of hot springs. Maybe a move there?
But here’s the punch line. I am home. I may have finally understood that today. Home is a feeling that lives inside me; I could feel it so strongly this afternoon. Like a taproot that is deep in the earth, but instead of the earth it roots into my heart – into the center of my being. It is so clichéd I know, but in the midst of my inner kvetching about where I find myself living today, I was fortunate to see how much home lives within me. Can you see this game we play about someplace being better than another, or different enough to alleviate our dissatisfaction, our need to change scenery, to start over, or create a new life for ourselves? What a silly diversion my mind has been playing!
I had this little epiphany while driving home from a project we’re doing in the next town over. As many of you know I live on the coast. The Atlantic coast. There is a beach I pass by on the way home and as I drove past today something said to pull over and take a minute. I backed the truck up, parked, and clambered over the snow bank towards the water. The tide was on its way out and the expanse of sand was vast making it seem like the ocean was so far away. I stood watching the waves crash, roll flat, then draw back to the sea. A seagull let out a shrill whistle. It was raining lightly and I was quiet and still for the first time all day. And that’s when all of a sudden I felt this tremendous rush (an inner wave really) of energy move through me. That’s when I knew, could feel so completely, that I was home.
I do live in a beautiful town, no doubt. For that I am so grateful. Who knows one day I may leave it again. And of course there are compelling reasons for many of you reading this to relocate – change the place you live – and sure that’s understandable. Family, jobs, fresh start. All valid. But just remember…
There is no place like home.
And you are always there.
Thanks for reading.
J
For the majority of my adult life I have been fairly nomadic. Since I left high school I have lived in New York, Massachusetts, Virginia, Oregon, Colorado, Montana, Utah, and California. So I know all about changing venues. I have for a long time wanted to live in Madrid New Mexico. Although my beloved has threatened to abandon me if I am remotely serious about relocating there, I often wonder what it would be like. Why Madrid (p. madd-Rid)? Because dogs can roam the streets without fear of the dog catcher. There isn't one. It's outside Santa Fe but far enough away to avoid the glitz. It feels raw and remote and isolated enough to re-connect to the earth. Yeah I know, more snow and cold but it's somehow different in my mind.
Then I contemplate why I ever left the warm lovers embrace of the Pacific coast. Encinitas is such a lovely town. Lots of surf culture, hot rods, and no need for a huge clothing budget. The year I lived there I don't remember wearing long pants. Shorts, flip flops, tee shirt by day, sweatshirt at night. Beautiful ocean. Delicious Mexican food. Barely ever rained. Laid back vibe. Wouldn't it be nice again? To feel warm in January?
Hmmm. What about southern Colorado? Or Boulder? Dry mountain air. Sure it snows but then it is 50 degrees the next day. Piercing blue sky makes you dizzy. Lots of hot springs. Maybe a move there?
But here’s the punch line. I am home. I may have finally understood that today. Home is a feeling that lives inside me; I could feel it so strongly this afternoon. Like a taproot that is deep in the earth, but instead of the earth it roots into my heart – into the center of my being. It is so clichéd I know, but in the midst of my inner kvetching about where I find myself living today, I was fortunate to see how much home lives within me. Can you see this game we play about someplace being better than another, or different enough to alleviate our dissatisfaction, our need to change scenery, to start over, or create a new life for ourselves? What a silly diversion my mind has been playing!
I had this little epiphany while driving home from a project we’re doing in the next town over. As many of you know I live on the coast. The Atlantic coast. There is a beach I pass by on the way home and as I drove past today something said to pull over and take a minute. I backed the truck up, parked, and clambered over the snow bank towards the water. The tide was on its way out and the expanse of sand was vast making it seem like the ocean was so far away. I stood watching the waves crash, roll flat, then draw back to the sea. A seagull let out a shrill whistle. It was raining lightly and I was quiet and still for the first time all day. And that’s when all of a sudden I felt this tremendous rush (an inner wave really) of energy move through me. That’s when I knew, could feel so completely, that I was home.
I do live in a beautiful town, no doubt. For that I am so grateful. Who knows one day I may leave it again. And of course there are compelling reasons for many of you reading this to relocate – change the place you live – and sure that’s understandable. Family, jobs, fresh start. All valid. But just remember…
There is no place like home.
And you are always there.
Thanks for reading.
J
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