We moved home because we missed the terrain and feel of corn fields that surrounded white farm houses and red barns. We missed apple orchards, pumkin patches, four seasons, and the memory of getting bored with our family. Our spirits were dry and what we thought was success, felt like nefarious burning sun. We looked to go back to those places that weren’t spiritual strip malls and a life of convenience that offered volume but little substance. What we found was that going back is never what we expect. Friends, family, our ideas of the world, others and of ourselves were not enough. God too often seemed to be more about our own tribal stories and fear then about something great enough to yield to and follow.

We both died in mid-life. . .it felt like multiple times. You never know that you can die so many times that your idea of yourself, protected seemingly at all costs, perishes. . .leaving us with only memories and diminished elasticity. What we were left with was right now. . .this moment. . .choice. . .consciousness. . .and what we know of things, people and the new found terrain of life and love. I think what caused us to move back originally was the desire to take hold of what we once were. Our souls took hold of us and shook us to greater pliability, to an openness to learn how to be unconditionally present with what is today.

We are not sure that we are liking everything in this place and time. We want to hold onto the view of others as we have them neatly placed in our mind. We still want certain looks, smells, flavors, places that once took care of us to last and be there for us. Impermanence seems cruel and void of offering us satisfaction. But we are growing more open to the idea that something larger than our own ideals exists. And we listen, we love, and we grow.