As some of you may know, I just returned from six days in Arizona and Utah. It was a most needed mental health holiday or “Mancation” as I called it. Just two good friends, two high powered motorcycles, and miles and miles of wide open roads and endless brilliant blue sky.
It was of course, an amazing Trip.
The other thing some of you also may know about me is that I occasionally dream of living out West again. It has this tractor beam pull on my soul and in a low but constant whisper continually calls to me…come back, come back my son. There will always be piece of my spirit that is part wild mustang yearning for that unencumbered spacious and open land; the constant horizon of mountains in the distance, little white puffy clouds, and piercing blue sky like a grandmothers loving eyes filled with wisdom and compassion.
Yet here I am living about as east as one possibly could without stepping into the Atlantic Ocean. Go figure.
But something shifted inside me on this trip. No doubt the land of the southwest pulled me close like a lover. And I was filled with that deep appreciation of her beauty. Yet this time I could experience that beauty without wanting to live in it all the time. The West is undergoing a deep transformation on the human scale. Of course the landscape has seen the man made drama played out over time and has remained stoic for millennium. Yet it was this human drama that I kept hearing about. The stories of economic doom, of loss, of hardship. Those stories seemed a constant thread woven throughout this recent western trip of mine.
Gradually my journey became not so much a scouting party for a possible relocation, but one about a deep appreciation for where I live and where I am in my life right now.
A sense of gratitude for where I am internally right now as well as where I physically live – right here where I have put down roots – this small New England coastal town.
The further and faster I went into the Heart of the West, the closer I came to that feeling of Gratitude for the place I call home. It is a good and special place. All the stress and frustration that was dogging me most of the winter dissolved. All the wondering about living here or not living here vanished into the azure sky.
Part of me couldn’t wait to get home.
I ran into a friend the day after my return and we were talking about my trip and I was sharing with him some of my realizations. He said that he struggled with some of the same issues of living in this community where everyone knows each other while living so tightly packed together. Then he shared how he recently found a fortune cookie fortune tucked into the headliner of an old Toyota pick up a mutual friend of ours had sold him 10 years ago.
It said: bloom where you are planted.
Bloom where you are planted. That phrase made a lot of sense to me.
I feel like I am planted here now.
I feel like it’s time to bloom here now.
Driving home from the airport upon my arrival back in Boston, I noticed all the trees had brilliant green new leaves. All the shrubs were flowering white and yellow and pink. Red and yellow tulips were coloring the gardens in front of the homes I passed.
I came home to my garden. Ready to bloom once again.
xoxo,
J
It was of course, an amazing Trip.
The other thing some of you also may know about me is that I occasionally dream of living out West again. It has this tractor beam pull on my soul and in a low but constant whisper continually calls to me…come back, come back my son. There will always be piece of my spirit that is part wild mustang yearning for that unencumbered spacious and open land; the constant horizon of mountains in the distance, little white puffy clouds, and piercing blue sky like a grandmothers loving eyes filled with wisdom and compassion.
Yet here I am living about as east as one possibly could without stepping into the Atlantic Ocean. Go figure.
But something shifted inside me on this trip. No doubt the land of the southwest pulled me close like a lover. And I was filled with that deep appreciation of her beauty. Yet this time I could experience that beauty without wanting to live in it all the time. The West is undergoing a deep transformation on the human scale. Of course the landscape has seen the man made drama played out over time and has remained stoic for millennium. Yet it was this human drama that I kept hearing about. The stories of economic doom, of loss, of hardship. Those stories seemed a constant thread woven throughout this recent western trip of mine.
Gradually my journey became not so much a scouting party for a possible relocation, but one about a deep appreciation for where I live and where I am in my life right now.
A sense of gratitude for where I am internally right now as well as where I physically live – right here where I have put down roots – this small New England coastal town.
The further and faster I went into the Heart of the West, the closer I came to that feeling of Gratitude for the place I call home. It is a good and special place. All the stress and frustration that was dogging me most of the winter dissolved. All the wondering about living here or not living here vanished into the azure sky.
Part of me couldn’t wait to get home.
I ran into a friend the day after my return and we were talking about my trip and I was sharing with him some of my realizations. He said that he struggled with some of the same issues of living in this community where everyone knows each other while living so tightly packed together. Then he shared how he recently found a fortune cookie fortune tucked into the headliner of an old Toyota pick up a mutual friend of ours had sold him 10 years ago.
It said: bloom where you are planted.
Bloom where you are planted. That phrase made a lot of sense to me.
I feel like I am planted here now.
I feel like it’s time to bloom here now.
Driving home from the airport upon my arrival back in Boston, I noticed all the trees had brilliant green new leaves. All the shrubs were flowering white and yellow and pink. Red and yellow tulips were coloring the gardens in front of the homes I passed.
I came home to my garden. Ready to bloom once again.
xoxo,
J
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