“Finding yourself is actually returning to yourself.
An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were
before the world got its hands on you.”
– Emily Mc Dowell
A lot of people have been reflecting on a year ago. When everything changed. I’ve been doing the same.
Tonight, I looked back on what I was writing a year ago. I rarely revisit my journals or blog posts. Maybe because I’m afraid it will make no sense. Maybe because I’ll realize I keep going over the same things. Mostly because I’m afraid of what I might find. For all of those reasons I decided to look back.
In my journal, 2/11/20
If you move fast enough you can run from your issues. Trouble is, the older you get the slower you are. You can’t keep moving on because the places to move are fewer. You don’t have access. Or maybe the places you go are less obvious.
Life was about getting things done so I could get to the next thing. Life changed in March 2020 and the next thing wasn’t there.
Being home made me stay put with myself. Because there was no place to go, I did some serious nesting. Looking for what pleased me most. Discovering the joy in small items and practices. Things I had set aside for a time when I had time, started to resurface and require my attention.
Being home made me face a lot of what I was setting aside. Things I would deal with later, became what I did. My parents things I had put in boxes, became things I pass daily and notice the sun shinning on. Dishes I use. Things that were hard to see morphed into things that comfort.
Being at home made me discover home and more of myself. Things I had put into piles and had made things accessible to use, but not cherish.
I’m still hurrying to finish something in order to get to the next thing. I still look away from things I should consider. But being at home the last year has made me stay right where I am, a bit longer with myself.