When your soul calls you home
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"If you go anywhere, even paradise, you will miss your home"- Malala Yousafzai |
Home. We've been told we can't go home again (Thomas Wolfe), while also being told we should click our red sparkly heels together to magically transport ourselves, because, there is no place like home (Frank L. Baum).
I think Maya Angelou said it best, "The ache for home lives in all of us". The concept of home, for me, and for many, is complex. I moved around a fair bit as a child. By the time I was in the sixth grade, I'd attended 5 elementary schools, and lived in three provinces. I only remember my first home as a newborn from photographs. We then moved to another house in the same area. There, the memories begin. I remember playing in the backyard, running back and forth between houses as there were no fences. I remember "doing ballet" in the front living room. I remember my Holly Hobby themed bedroom. I can smell the homemade chocolate chip cookies I'd bake with my mom in our kitchen. I finished out kindergarten in that house. Then we moved to a new province, and I had a new home. Then we moved provinces again, and I had a new home. Then again, and I had a new home. Then again, and I had a new home.
I don't really have a childhood home in the sense that it is somewhere physical you visit, and it brings back a flood of happy memories. The idea of the childhood home lives within my breastbone, and in my mind, and in the stories I recall, and I tell. It is not something I am sad about, or lament often. I think when I was younger it was something that felt more tangible. An anchor. A port in the storm. Sure, it would be nice to go home to a place where you have your childhood bedroom, and everything is the same as it always was, but sometimes that is not possible. The physical home is not always a place of safety for people. It can be a place of sadness, of anger, of confusion. My mother, and father always did their best to make where we lived a home. Endless hours creating that feeling of safety, no matter their struggles. I will always have that feeling. I carry it with me.
Over the the last few years, the idea of home has changed drastically for me. The last of my family homes was sold, when my dad decided to up, and move back to Nova Scotia. He has many friends, and family that way. He has gone on his own journey to find that feeling of belonging again. It was also the last physical home my mother knew. My brothers and I sorted through decades of stuff. It brought a lot of bittersweet memories. All our schoolwork through the years, toys, pictures, baby books, and so many storage containers of holiday decorations. If you knew my mom, you know that every holiday was well celebrated. I carry these memories in my heart, in my writing, in my thoughts, and in the sentimental items I cannot part with, no matter how many times I move.
The basement was an archive of my childhood, and a graveyard for boxes shifted from move to move. Boxes that had never been opened from a move 15 years ago. I think my mom missed the concept of home. Home to my mom was Nova Scotia. It was where she felt her heart beat in rhythm with the crash of the rough Atlantic Ocean, where cups of tea with her family were met with tears of laughter of stories from long, long ago. It was where she would sit on a black rock, and feel the wind whip through her hair. It was where she felt free. With every move, she felt farther from that feeling. Keeping things in boxes, trying to preserve a little bit of what made her feel at home with each new address.
Many wise people will tell you home is in a person. I can attest to that, I do feel a sense of belonging with my husband. He makes me feel safe, and loved. He is my shelter from the storm. I think when you look at home in abstract terms, a person can be home, especially when your heart is happy. That said, you can feel all those things with someone; safe, loved, and secure; but your soul is restless. I think home begins from within, it is the energy that vibrates through our chakras to our root centre.
I have felt at home in different places. I have felt at home in the heart of London, England. I have felt home on cliffs in Wales. I have felt at home in lush rolling hillsides. Cool breezes, intermittent sun, and rolling mist. I feel at home when leaves crunch beneath my feet. I feel at home when it is brisk outside, fresh fallen snow, and I am warming up inside with a cup of tea. Cozy fireside. I have felt at home in a busy city. Perhaps it is my past lives, and my soul acknowledging the places I've been before. Maybe it is my higher self knowing where I belong. The soul self is so much wiser than our physical being. I have travelled many places, and without a shadow of a doubt, there have been exact moments where my soul sighs with relief. As if seeing an old friend after a long absence. I think we've all felt that feeling. At least, I hope. Where you pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and know a place has meaning for you. This feeling is something I explore in my fiction.
I can tell you this with brutal honesty: I do not feel at home in Bermuda. Nor does my husband. We are one another's refuge in this country.
One's paradise, is another's soul prison. I was hesitant to disclose this, as I knew it would be jarring for some. How can I not like paradise? How ungrateful could I be? Living next to the beach, on a balmy tropical island, and I don't love it? Tsk tsk.
I love the beautiful beaches; that crystal clear turquoise water, and pink sand. It is the one of the few places where I feel a sense of peace here. Especially in the "winter", when the beach would be practically empty, my husband, and I would take long walks up, and down the coast.
What feeds many souls does not feed mine. Many people find this place to be the home their soul needs. The warm weather all year long. The relaxed pace of life. The beach at your fingertips. Golf courses. Taking the boat out on the weekends. I see so many happy people here. This place renews them, whether on vacation, Bermudian born, or an expat sojourning here. I never want to give the impression that Bermuda is not a beautiful, or welcoming place. It is definitely one of the more beautiful places I have ever seen. The coastline is breathtaking. It is worth a visit. It is worth coming here, and filling your soul up with sun, sand, and water. There is much to see, and do, while here.
I appreciate that so many people love it here. I wish I did. I wish my soul felt what they feel, but that is their journey, not mine. I have felt very guilty the past few months. As time went on, and it became harder, and harder to ignore the restlessness, and uneasiness. Can we not just fit in? Can we somehow negotiate with our soul self, to be cliché, and grow where we are planted? The answer is no, for many different reasons. Reasons I realize I do not have to feel guilty about, as this is my story, and my life.
I think my soul knew. I think that was part of the root of my anxiety before I moved here. I squashed it down as far as I could, before it erupted like a violent volcano. I knew I loved my husband, but deep down I knew this place would leech happiness from us. If you know me, you know I have a strong dislike of the heat, specifically humidity, and heat. It is always humid, and hot for most of the year. Right now, it is reaching close to 40 degrees with the humidex before 10 in the morning. Many people are loving this, I can see them out running in the midday sun. While that is wonderful for some people, that feels very oppressive for me. I miss airing out my house with a beautiful cross breeze. I miss big wooly sweaters. I miss being cold. All the talk about heat though is merely physical discomfort. It is my soul that I am addressing here, my soul that is restless.
I miss many things, I think that is natural, but I will say I miss immersing myself into things that make me happy. I miss hiking a trail on a brisk autumn day. I miss grounding myself in my surroundings, and feeling the healing power of mother nature. That grounding can be very person, and specific to each person.
I have, and still do not have, any regrets coming here. I need to be clear about that point. It has helped me transition into the next stage of my career. I don't know if I ever would have been brave enough to make this transition without moving to a new country. It has made my relationship with my husband stronger, and deeper. I am grateful that on this island I was lucky enough to find a wonderful yoga studio that introduced me into a world I was always hesitant to enter, of which I have now blissfully found myself immersed.
It has taught me to appreciate my homeland more. I miss my friends, and family. It has reaffirmed my practice of gratitude. I am thankful for many things.
We tried. We explored from tip, to tip. Hiked, swam, enjoyed the sights. We tried riding bikes (scooters), which turns out I am certainly not adept at doing. The scar tissue in my knee, and chin will attest to that fact. I knew going in that we would assess year-by-year if this was the right place for us. We had criteria outlined: job satisfaction, climate satisfaction, quality of life satisfaction, socializing satisfaction. We have met many wonderful, and kind people that have helped us make this year memorable, and truly worthwhile. Their part in our time here will not be forgotten. Sadly, at the end of this year's review, we knew what had to be done. This was not a decision we took lightly, but it was an important decision.
June 2018 will mark my third move in two years. I have lived in three countries, and in less than a month I will be in the 11th place I've called home. It is time to go. I've learned many things over the years. Moving pillar to post. I have learned to not be attached to belongings that are not sentimental. I have learned the importance of home being more than a physical building. It is not even a place. For me, it is a feeling. That feeling of freedom that I think my mom longed for, a place where you feel you belong? I do not feel that here. When I lived in England as a student, I was hoping to stay on for a few years, but life happened with Mom's first two cancers, and I had to come back home. It was a place where I felt I flourished as a person. I felt that freedom, but it was not to be my journey to stay on in the UK as my path led me back to Canada. I have no regrets that I left. Just as I have no regrets coming to Bermuda. It was a chance, and adventure, and a chapter in my book. We will dine on these stories for many years to come.
I would never discourage someone from packing up their life to embark on a journey to an unknown land. The key is to know that it might not bring you happiness, or it may bring you great happiness. Bermuda may not have been my first choice as it is a tropical island, and I, here almost a year later with barely a tan, and always a bit hot, but I was willing to take the chance. Make the leap to something unfamiliar. I am glad that I did, it brought me many life lessons. It has certainly changed my life, and there are positives in that, and I am grateful for growth.
I am still an advocate for following the call of your heart, and your soul. Sometimes they are not always in unison, but I am following this path for a reason. Why? I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I'm going to keep going as there is so much more to explore in life. The universe has a plan, and I mostly, but not always, am a willing participant. Trying not to control things can be hard, especially for someone with anxiety. I am proud of myself for moving out of many comfort zones here. I did a lot of things that took courage for me. Now, I am happily packing our boxes to fly back for our next chapter. Opportunities await us back home that are very exciting. I can feel it in my soul.
I have also learned that if your soul is restless, and it is within your power to answer the call. Do so. It is true that life is unpredictable. I no longer feel the need to stay where I am not happy, or content in my soul. Right now, our souls need stability. We both need to feel that firm, solid ground beneath us that helps us feel, not rooted like a tree, but nourished like a tree in rich soil. Then, once regrouped, we can decide what our next journey together will be, what lands we will call home, whether for a short time, or a long time. Perhaps it will always be Canada. I do not know. I've stopped trying to plan my life years in advance. All I know is that right now, my soul is calling me home. Home being where it needs to rest for a while.
I also know I will always miss the soft, cool sand beneath my feet, and the warm turquoise water. The beach days will be sorely missed, but I will carry that feeling in my heart. Bermuda has awakened my creative brain again. It has given me so many breathtaking photographs to remember it by, and to share with others. There are many treasured memories I will carry home with me.
With so much gratitude in my heart,
I don't really have a childhood home in the sense that it is somewhere physical you visit, and it brings back a flood of happy memories. The idea of the childhood home lives within my breastbone, and in my mind, and in the stories I recall, and I tell. It is not something I am sad about, or lament often. I think when I was younger it was something that felt more tangible. An anchor. A port in the storm. Sure, it would be nice to go home to a place where you have your childhood bedroom, and everything is the same as it always was, but sometimes that is not possible. The physical home is not always a place of safety for people. It can be a place of sadness, of anger, of confusion. My mother, and father always did their best to make where we lived a home. Endless hours creating that feeling of safety, no matter their struggles. I will always have that feeling. I carry it with me.
Over the the last few years, the idea of home has changed drastically for me. The last of my family homes was sold, when my dad decided to up, and move back to Nova Scotia. He has many friends, and family that way. He has gone on his own journey to find that feeling of belonging again. It was also the last physical home my mother knew. My brothers and I sorted through decades of stuff. It brought a lot of bittersweet memories. All our schoolwork through the years, toys, pictures, baby books, and so many storage containers of holiday decorations. If you knew my mom, you know that every holiday was well celebrated. I carry these memories in my heart, in my writing, in my thoughts, and in the sentimental items I cannot part with, no matter how many times I move.
The basement was an archive of my childhood, and a graveyard for boxes shifted from move to move. Boxes that had never been opened from a move 15 years ago. I think my mom missed the concept of home. Home to my mom was Nova Scotia. It was where she felt her heart beat in rhythm with the crash of the rough Atlantic Ocean, where cups of tea with her family were met with tears of laughter of stories from long, long ago. It was where she would sit on a black rock, and feel the wind whip through her hair. It was where she felt free. With every move, she felt farther from that feeling. Keeping things in boxes, trying to preserve a little bit of what made her feel at home with each new address.
Many wise people will tell you home is in a person. I can attest to that, I do feel a sense of belonging with my husband. He makes me feel safe, and loved. He is my shelter from the storm. I think when you look at home in abstract terms, a person can be home, especially when your heart is happy. That said, you can feel all those things with someone; safe, loved, and secure; but your soul is restless. I think home begins from within, it is the energy that vibrates through our chakras to our root centre.
I have felt at home in different places. I have felt at home in the heart of London, England. I have felt home on cliffs in Wales. I have felt at home in lush rolling hillsides. Cool breezes, intermittent sun, and rolling mist. I feel at home when leaves crunch beneath my feet. I feel at home when it is brisk outside, fresh fallen snow, and I am warming up inside with a cup of tea. Cozy fireside. I have felt at home in a busy city. Perhaps it is my past lives, and my soul acknowledging the places I've been before. Maybe it is my higher self knowing where I belong. The soul self is so much wiser than our physical being. I have travelled many places, and without a shadow of a doubt, there have been exact moments where my soul sighs with relief. As if seeing an old friend after a long absence. I think we've all felt that feeling. At least, I hope. Where you pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and know a place has meaning for you. This feeling is something I explore in my fiction.
I can tell you this with brutal honesty: I do not feel at home in Bermuda. Nor does my husband. We are one another's refuge in this country.
One's paradise, is another's soul prison. I was hesitant to disclose this, as I knew it would be jarring for some. How can I not like paradise? How ungrateful could I be? Living next to the beach, on a balmy tropical island, and I don't love it? Tsk tsk.
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| Winter Mindfulness Walks |
What feeds many souls does not feed mine. Many people find this place to be the home their soul needs. The warm weather all year long. The relaxed pace of life. The beach at your fingertips. Golf courses. Taking the boat out on the weekends. I see so many happy people here. This place renews them, whether on vacation, Bermudian born, or an expat sojourning here. I never want to give the impression that Bermuda is not a beautiful, or welcoming place. It is definitely one of the more beautiful places I have ever seen. The coastline is breathtaking. It is worth a visit. It is worth coming here, and filling your soul up with sun, sand, and water. There is much to see, and do, while here.
I appreciate that so many people love it here. I wish I did. I wish my soul felt what they feel, but that is their journey, not mine. I have felt very guilty the past few months. As time went on, and it became harder, and harder to ignore the restlessness, and uneasiness. Can we not just fit in? Can we somehow negotiate with our soul self, to be cliché, and grow where we are planted? The answer is no, for many different reasons. Reasons I realize I do not have to feel guilty about, as this is my story, and my life.
I think my soul knew. I think that was part of the root of my anxiety before I moved here. I squashed it down as far as I could, before it erupted like a violent volcano. I knew I loved my husband, but deep down I knew this place would leech happiness from us. If you know me, you know I have a strong dislike of the heat, specifically humidity, and heat. It is always humid, and hot for most of the year. Right now, it is reaching close to 40 degrees with the humidex before 10 in the morning. Many people are loving this, I can see them out running in the midday sun. While that is wonderful for some people, that feels very oppressive for me. I miss airing out my house with a beautiful cross breeze. I miss big wooly sweaters. I miss being cold. All the talk about heat though is merely physical discomfort. It is my soul that I am addressing here, my soul that is restless.
 |
| National Museum of Bermuda - One of my favourite places to feel grounded |
I miss many things, I think that is natural, but I will say I miss immersing myself into things that make me happy. I miss hiking a trail on a brisk autumn day. I miss grounding myself in my surroundings, and feeling the healing power of mother nature. That grounding can be very person, and specific to each person.
I have, and still do not have, any regrets coming here. I need to be clear about that point. It has helped me transition into the next stage of my career. I don't know if I ever would have been brave enough to make this transition without moving to a new country. It has made my relationship with my husband stronger, and deeper. I am grateful that on this island I was lucky enough to find a wonderful yoga studio that introduced me into a world I was always hesitant to enter, of which I have now blissfully found myself immersed.
It has taught me to appreciate my homeland more. I miss my friends, and family. It has reaffirmed my practice of gratitude. I am thankful for many things.
We tried. We explored from tip, to tip. Hiked, swam, enjoyed the sights. We tried riding bikes (scooters), which turns out I am certainly not adept at doing. The scar tissue in my knee, and chin will attest to that fact. I knew going in that we would assess year-by-year if this was the right place for us. We had criteria outlined: job satisfaction, climate satisfaction, quality of life satisfaction, socializing satisfaction. We have met many wonderful, and kind people that have helped us make this year memorable, and truly worthwhile. Their part in our time here will not be forgotten. Sadly, at the end of this year's review, we knew what had to be done. This was not a decision we took lightly, but it was an important decision.
June 2018 will mark my third move in two years. I have lived in three countries, and in less than a month I will be in the 11th place I've called home. It is time to go. I've learned many things over the years. Moving pillar to post. I have learned to not be attached to belongings that are not sentimental. I have learned the importance of home being more than a physical building. It is not even a place. For me, it is a feeling. That feeling of freedom that I think my mom longed for, a place where you feel you belong? I do not feel that here. When I lived in England as a student, I was hoping to stay on for a few years, but life happened with Mom's first two cancers, and I had to come back home. It was a place where I felt I flourished as a person. I felt that freedom, but it was not to be my journey to stay on in the UK as my path led me back to Canada. I have no regrets that I left. Just as I have no regrets coming to Bermuda. It was a chance, and adventure, and a chapter in my book. We will dine on these stories for many years to come.
I would never discourage someone from packing up their life to embark on a journey to an unknown land. The key is to know that it might not bring you happiness, or it may bring you great happiness. Bermuda may not have been my first choice as it is a tropical island, and I, here almost a year later with barely a tan, and always a bit hot, but I was willing to take the chance. Make the leap to something unfamiliar. I am glad that I did, it brought me many life lessons. It has certainly changed my life, and there are positives in that, and I am grateful for growth.
I am still an advocate for following the call of your heart, and your soul. Sometimes they are not always in unison, but I am following this path for a reason. Why? I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I'm going to keep going as there is so much more to explore in life. The universe has a plan, and I mostly, but not always, am a willing participant. Trying not to control things can be hard, especially for someone with anxiety. I am proud of myself for moving out of many comfort zones here. I did a lot of things that took courage for me. Now, I am happily packing our boxes to fly back for our next chapter. Opportunities await us back home that are very exciting. I can feel it in my soul.
 |
| Going Home for a Rest; next chapter awaits |
I have also learned that if your soul is restless, and it is within your power to answer the call. Do so. It is true that life is unpredictable. I no longer feel the need to stay where I am not happy, or content in my soul. Right now, our souls need stability. We both need to feel that firm, solid ground beneath us that helps us feel, not rooted like a tree, but nourished like a tree in rich soil. Then, once regrouped, we can decide what our next journey together will be, what lands we will call home, whether for a short time, or a long time. Perhaps it will always be Canada. I do not know. I've stopped trying to plan my life years in advance. All I know is that right now, my soul is calling me home. Home being where it needs to rest for a while.
I also know I will always miss the soft, cool sand beneath my feet, and the warm turquoise water. The beach days will be sorely missed, but I will carry that feeling in my heart. Bermuda has awakened my creative brain again. It has given me so many breathtaking photographs to remember it by, and to share with others. There are many treasured memories I will carry home with me.
 |
| Hard to beat Bermudaful Beaches. Place in my heart, always |
With so much gratitude in my heart,
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