Morning View at Home. August 31, 2013.
Some of my favorite stories are the ones about heroes and
heroines who embark upon a life-transforming journey filled with mystery,
romance, challenge and redemption such as The
Wizard of Oz, Star Wars and Big Trouble in Little China.
In those stories, the hero ends their journey by returning
home with the profound realization that there’s
no place like home. With that
in mind, I was curious about how I would feel this week when I traveled more
than 2,000 miles back home to the region where I grew up. Would I, too, feel a desire to move
back home?
It had been 11 years since I’d spent much time back home,
but it didn’t take long before I felt at home with all that was familiar: the hearty
food, the straightforward culture, the flat Midwest accents and the community values. The Midwest values are simple: work
hard, be good, follow the rules, make self-sacrifices for others and you will
be rewarded. Salt of the earth
people live in the Midwest and I enjoyed reconnecting with my heritage.
But, what I hadn’t expected is reconnecting with how I felt
while I lived in the Midwest: Alive, but not really living. Getting by, but not
really flourishing. Fitting in,
but not really doing anything remarkable.
At times, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.
At that time, I had known I wanted to change my life to
something different, I just didn’t know to what. It took me years to finally take a step forward because I
thought it was selfish to pursue a few vague dreams and desires of something
greater, some place else. The funny irony is that in pursuing my dreams and
desires, I have transitioned into a career where I spend my days helping
others.
Since I left home, the years have been filled with struggle,
challenge, mystery, success, victory and romance. Throughout those years, I had forgotten how far I had come
and I had lost sight of why it was necessary for me to leave. Why couldn’t I make my new life happen
while I lived at home? It didn’t all
become evident until my journey back from the Midwest.
When I arrived at the airport gate for those headed to
Seattle, I saw people who appeared to be musicians, artists, environmentalists,
ocean explorers, software designers and developers, entrepreneurs, mountain
climbers, writers, poets, photographers and yoga instructors. I realized I had chosen to live among
the creative, independent spirits, but it wasn’t until the next morning, when I
woke up in Seattle that I understood why.
Upon rising, I walked down to the lake and as if for the
first time, I felt the fresh sea air hit my skin, my nose took in the undeniably
delicious fragrance of the most recent blossoms, and I watched a person serenely
practice Tai Chi while a great grey heron, the symbol of independence, gently flew
overhead. It was a feast to my
senses and I wanted to eat the moment.
Then I realized.
Living here nourishes my creative spirit and gives me the
sustenance I need to contribute to the world in a greater way. There’s nothing selfish about
that. Living here is my personal
oxygen mask!
It feels good to be home.
