There's been some crazy big love stuff happening in my version of this world. I've been meaning to post since early last month when the seed for many of these thoughts was planted during a simple ritual called decorating the Christmas tree in which I participated unknowingly on my grandmothers birthday. (I tend to lose track of most birthdays.)
Having come to the tail end of a year that a friend refers to as the most-magical-mind- alteringly-wonderful-birthday-year-ever, my mind has been overrun with thoughts about my family, my desire to open a business, my health, the health of family and friends, the health of this earth, my love of artmaking, the work of relationships, the ease of relationships...
I've been asking myself all year what I want to do with my life; I thought the least of my interests lay in Belvidere with my family but this last trip home for Christmas clued me in to the depth and breadth of my desire.
I want to go home.
Many years ago on a drive from Iowa City, IA to Morris, MN my lover and I stopped to refuel and stretch our legs. The Midwestern plains of winter had definitely entered a state of grace, sparkling in the headlights they burned brightly in my eyes and the hum of the road lifted me even as I stood still. I looked at AB across the roof of my car and said that I wanted to go home. "Where is that?" she asked. I bowed my head, "I don't know," was all I could say.
Somehow my notions about friendship, family, worthiness, happiness, value and purpose are all wrapped into my hopes for a home.
I believe it's less about an actual place than about my state of mind and an ability to live my life as only I can, but the way home can be so curiously varied.