I would like to say that I'm home, but my heart is in two places ... the Ohio River Valley and Taos, New Mexico. Before I wax poetic about my recent journey, I must first give wholehearted thanks to my husband and daughter who not only tolerate but bless this vision quest that I embark upon each June. They've been around this block with me four years in a row and each time they get a new wife and mama upon my return. Not everyone is so flexible with and trusting of the ones they love. I don't take their support for granted.
Going back to Taos each year is the ultimate surrender. Not only do I get to help by holding the space for those who travel to Amy's Illuminated Travel Journal Workshop, but also by bearing witness to their delightful discovery that this trip is about so much more than drawing. I've also learned that I must go into it with the awareness that what needs to be faced, healed, reconciled within myself awaits me. This is big work, beautifully ugly though it may be. It's an annual exam of sorts ... with a no bullshit clause.
I thought I was ready this year. I really did. Joke was so on me. I wasn't ready. I'll never be ready. There's no telling what will come up or how things will go while I'm there. Thankfully, this year, more than ever, things went swimmingly. What's more, what was wholly unexpected, was Amy's and my deep sense of coming home, being welcomed home. We've had the good fortune of making dearest friends at Mabel's. We've put down roots. Our cooties have found their way into nooks and crannies. The history has seeped into our bones. And every single year it becomes exponentially more difficult to leave.
But leave we did (sigh), only to begin again with the counting of days (349 to date). Waiting is so hard, but in this case beyond worth it. Not that far. Not that hard. Right? That's what I'll keep telling myself in the many months ahead. For this, for all of this. What has been. What will be. I am so deeply grateful.
