10 MINUTE WRITING PRACTICE: Round ONE.
COMING HOME. HOW DO I KNOW WHEN I’VE ARRIVED?
Home. Ugh. Sigh. I desire to know what Home is. For Years I’ve journaled “Home is where your Heart is.” Lately I’ve accepted I am a gypsy. So NOW where’s home? It’s not a zip code. It’s not where I store my stuff. Is Home where I lay my head at night? My writing coach insists that I answer my own questions.
Where is Home?
I describe it as the place I can show up fully myself. My intimate private self. Fully at home in my skin. Right now that’s mostly on the dance floor. Where I show up authentic, moody, larger than life, smaller than a young child, fierce and afraid. At the end of dance, I often feel integrated.
Home was not my ‘home address’ and ‘family’ wasn’t the folks I lived with. Yes. I started asking these questions at age 5 ish. Not relating to my Birth family-packing a suitcase and hanging out in the apartment stairwell-wishing to live somewhere else, with a different family.
How does one claim Home?
At this moment, writing. I’m sitting on the floor of my friend’s living room. Is this Home?
Questions flood my mind and writing space.
Is neighbor the person next door?
Or the person you have eye-contact with?
Or the person standing next to you at the bus stop?
I laugh remembering a Store Sign in Austin: Native Imports.
We are living at an exciting time. Creating vocabulary. I desire to represent more authentically. As a writer, I love creating my own vocabulary. I’ve done this since playing scrabble as a kid. Then it was called cheating. Now it’s being creative. See how we are writing our own definitions?
So presently Home is where my Heart is OPEN.
NEIGHBOR is the person I can see into their eyes and see Soul.
LOCAL (Native) is having some kind of connection with the area, the people the culture.
It’s how I choose to spend my dollar supporting their mission on the planet.
The internet is weaving a web of conscious connection and spinning a web of familiar.
Now that I’ve sharpened my mind and my pen. I define-
FAMILY are those folks who’s values of being human are aligned with mine.
TRIBE are the folks I dance with and share heart beat and breath.
10 MINUTE WRITING PRACTICE: Round TWO.
COMING HOME. HOW DO I KNOW WHEN I’VE ARRIVED?
Growl. I’m in a hurry. 10 minutes to focus is really a small request.
Coming Home. How do I know when I’ve arrived?
It’s a Body Sensation. When my breath drops lower in my belly. When I can feel my shoulders relax. My jaw softens and I can feel my tongue expand in my mouth. Oh yeah. And my mouth gets warmer and wetter inside. I really enjoy that sensation of my mouth becoming wetter. When I salivate, I know my body’s saying Yes! I am Home. Yes! I can receive my external environment into my Body. I am willing to merge. My muscles relax. I actually let my Bones rest into the floor. My seat holds me.
When I am being held. That’s Home.
Right now can I feel that sensation? While I write? My hand stiffens with the question. Can I relax while I write? I’m fidgeting. I have a time line pressing. This 10 minute timeline…Does time have to be a driver? Can time be the carrier?
No pressure Carola.
Pressure truly blocks intake. I desire to listen. Relax my eardrums. Relax my visual field. Relax my pupils. Relax my hand to write so I can listen and respond. My mouth is watering and I am smiling. Ahhhh Mused!
I am so happy I am drug free and No cotton Mouth. I am sitting on the carpet facing a Huge Window that overlooks a green park and playground. I am across the street from an Elementary School that’s been converted to a city building. This is my Favorite location on the planet-across an Elementary Playground! Lincoln Elementary houses an alternative High School Program. Wouldn’t it be cool to volunteer there at the Alternative Program?
Home is where I give my services to the area Youth. That is one of my markers. When I am Home I can give myself away because I am committed to the growth of my community. Give a way to the future. When I am Home I’m not visiting.
UGH! I’ve been visiting since I left Austin in 2005.
Owch! That’s 8 years ago. Sigh. I choose to plant myself. He greets me when I arrive saying “Welcome Home Carola.”
He says “Our bed.” He says “Our Home.” Future. He’s the first partner who speaks of the future with me. I cry.
My handwriting has gone to shit just when I get personal and explore stuff that’s really moving around my foundation, my Bones.
Okay stay engaged. 2 more minutes…
“Dangling carrot” is what I said to him when he invited me to claim his space as our space. It’s about Home. I feel he’s dangling a carrot called Home right in front of me and my stomach Hurts. Owch! Sharp stomach muscle spasms. Clench. I can feel my jaws tighten right now. Relax Carola. He said “I’m not dangling a carrot.”
Okay. I see me as a foster child having others dangle a carrot. My Aunt, Uncle, Foster Parents, The Children’s Home. Run A Way Boyfriend. Okay Breathe. I do desire to receive. How can I feel I manifested Home instead of him?
Ahhh. What if I point my attention to what I Bring, rather than what I receive? I am bringing Home. I AM bringing Home where ever I go.
Carola Dear. You are sooo close to Coming Home.
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Carola Marashi M.A. has a Master’s Degree in Transpersonal Psychology and is an Ordained Minister. Her 30 years of Professional Practice serve Intuition and Compassion. Author of 2 Published Books, Sensual Eating, and Sacred Dance Tarot, emphasizing communion with Body, Mind and Soul. She offers Intuitive Counseling, Couples Counseling and Officiates Weddings. Currently she lives simply and close to the earth in Talent Oregon on a permaculture sanctuary.
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