Belonging

Home and belonging have been on my mind often this past year, from digging into my ancestry through connection to land and shared lineage to quite literally trying to buy a home in the mountains of Western North Carolina.

Each time I cross the bridge to my home, beautiful Savannah, I think of the Thomas Wolfe quote, “You can never go home again.” You keep going “home,” but home is not the nostalgia of a place you hold dear in your heart. Home is the crashing wave of reality of time that passes, family that ages, the landscapes that change and all the versions of you who have existed near and far.

It is a point, a measurement of time not necessarily linear; a reflection. I have a complicated, complex love affair with where I grew up. Its beauty can at times seem like a mockery of the slight ache in my chest as I sink into the Lowcountry. And yet, I return over and over again.

There are parts of me absolutely shaped by those marshes and muddy banks. Parts that still feel like the young person, on a thick, gnarly tree limb overhanging the river. That feel my shoulders drop and my heart sing a little at the sight of expansive marsh and moss draped over branches.

And then the ocean. The ultimate container and holder of all. Happiness, grief, uncertainty, despair; I’ve felt it all with her. She is like a family member, equally deserving of my time and visitation. With her, I always belong.

I love you, so clearly and wholly (holy?)

Perhaps because you let me go, and I come back to you, crashing, slowly drawing back in and towards your depth. You ask almost nothing of me, not even a murmur of resentment when my feet touch the thousands of grains of pulverized rock, not matter how long I’ve been gone. I am home in the truest sense, belonging. I love you. — Me, December 23rd, 2023

Belonging feels like a big exhale. No pretense, no veil. It feels like grace, unconditional regard. A settling, a knowing. I wish it for all of us.

As I was searching for the Thomas Wolfe quote, I found this one by Maya Angelou: “You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it’s all right.” I think I’ll hold that close, as my sense of home shifts and feels ever much tied to myself, nature, and the ones I love.





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Witnessing

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A Note on Somatics