So I'll be returning stateside soon, and despite all my promises to myself not to count down the days or feel bittersweet, I am, of course, doing both of those things. England has always felt like home to me, felt like the place I am rooted, and since reading Sharon Blackie's If Women Rose Rooted, rootedness feels so much more important than ever. I seem to be reasonably good at getting myself over here, touching the soil (and breathing in the expanse of landscape, the sound of birds, bells and choirs), but not so good at engaging deep down into the dark earth.
Yet when I rise (literally) above it all and observe the situation compassionately from a higher self perspective, it does seem that I am taking part in a deeper mystery here. Every aspect of my life has had a shamanic "between realities" quality, and this backing and forthing has to be part of it. Right now, I am much more aware of the need to be at home within myself, first and foremost. My few months here have rooted me more in that sense. I am not so much "homeless" or "between homes" but a universal home for some values that just simply do not yet seem to be well established in the world, leaving it hard to find my place. I have made a commitment to write a book this summer, and hopefully it will provide four walls (as it were) for those values. While writing the book, I may blog even less frequently, but I'll let you know about that in a few weeks.
Before leaving? I'm giving an informal talk, attending one or two more choral evensongs, attending one more physical therapy appointment for my wrist, and generally spending most of the days having a normal "go to the shops/make meals" kind of existence. We are living in such decidedly extraordinary times, it just seems crucial to grab hold of whatever feels normal while that's possible.
Yeah...
