homecoming

renewing my sense of Self with fresh flowers and canvases

it’s late afternoon. i’m sitting in my studio that’s been newly and nearly emptied of its previous creations. i’ve swept it clean of the cobwebs, dust, and remnants of a generative summer that gathered in every corner. i refreshed the altar with a new glass of water and new flowers: white lilies for my ancestors in my maternal lineage, The Lillys, and a cluster of yellow orange mums to welcome the Fall season. blank slates have been placed upon the bricks and are resting against the wall, unwrapped from their plastic, awaiting my attention, anticipating. 

i’m sitting in my chair taking in the expansiveness that comes after a clearing. i recognize that this is my favorite moment in the process: the beginning. this is when possibility grabs my hand and dares me to leap forward despite uncertainty. it’s a moment of freedom that swells the belly, quickens the heart rate, and awakens the mind to new discoveries it didn’t have access to before. the portal to where i’m going next hasn’t opened just yet but it’s always there at the start of every new cycle, daring me to find its origin point and summon my courage to step through once i do. 

the beginning is where no matter what i just endured during yet another one of life’s cyclical growth processes, i’m able to return home to myself again and again. it has taken me most of my thirties to be able to greet myself with a smile upon my return instead of a grimace, an embrace instead of detach, words of welcome instead of critique. i come back to myself having shed more layers of shame, guilt, and feelings of unworthiness each time. every step into a new portal is an exercise in foregoing self-abandonment. 

each homecoming always ends up even better than the one that preceded it despite my belief that i’ve sunk too far into the bowels of the healing process to make it through with my Self intact. i give thanks that the undoing is never my end, just an invitation to be reborn as often as i desire.