Transitions (Thoughts from the Road)
Traveling through Mississippi, I had a powerful realization. I don't have a home. Not a dwelling place, but an area with the familiar scents of childhood and the unconditional love we expect from our parents throughout our lifetime; I think the feelings of true disconnectedness set in sometime after my father passed away. The abandonment, the no longer having someone that sought me out with joy that had known me forever—the duration of my life.
My mom has never provided that comfort. Today, I left her home not knowing when or if I would see it again with no real sense of closure. As I backed out of the driveway and looked upon the house one last time, I saw my dad waving goodbye in Spirit, but no physical, real-world goodbye would be rendered from my mom. She called hours later to see how the road treated us as if this was a vacation. The thing about life is all things that were once the norm eventually change. The interesting thing about change is sometimes it's fleeting, the temporary disruption from the humdrum of life, and other times it's permanent. Sometimes we choose to change, and other times it is forced.
The change I feel right now seems aligned. I know there was nothing more to realize in Alabama, not for me. In the last two years, it was the best of times and the worst of times. If someone had asked me what I had to lose returning to Alabama from Senegal, I would have easily said nothing. If I were in a joking mood, perhaps I would have told my sanity. But honestly, this last trip back to Alabama cost me the connection to my home place. There's nothing left there for me but memories, the site I originated from, nothing more.
Many people come to me to explore spirituality as a potential pathway, and some come to be aware of the problems and traumas that need healing. Often, people want to think about it before committing, and some backup and stop before they ever give Spirit time and space to work for them. For years, I have begged my mom in every way I know how to get into therapy, get a coach, and she absolutely will not commit to the process. Her gamut of excuses is so childlike at this point that it's no point in trying to romanticize the benefits of healing for her. But, what my mother and so many others don't understand in their rejection of healing themselves is the emotional toll their unhealed energy forces on others. And the level of disappointment, distance, and void, the people who try to love them feel because they can't connect more deeply with those supposed to value them.
The Urgency to Heal
Refusing to heal yourself when you have a partner or children or when you are anything but a complete recluse is selfish. Selfishness is often downplayed as a mere act of ego, something to accuse another or make them feel their actions' guilt. But truly, selfishness is an act of hatred. Hatred manifested is powerful, the most toxic negative energy to be physically experienced.
We miss apparent signs of self-hatred daily from many of our connections. We have become conditioned to look for external signs of hatred, obvious acts of malalignment. When we think of hate, we visualize war, racism, acts of terror. But self-hatred can be experienced in extremes, though I have personally viewed it much softer. Subtle tones of mental chaos manifest hoarding, the constant need to fill up space to balance the internal void; I don't believe those who hoard understand the impossible level of shame the people who must coexist with must live with daily.
Beyond dealing with the effects of hoarding, I have also grown up with grown people that utilize defensiveness as a natural emotional home base. Everyone defends some aspect of their behavior now and again, but self-judgment runs rampant when you need to protect often. Defensiveness doesn't allow for a difference of opinion, not curiosity from others, and it's a constant barrier to everything. Those who utilize this energy as a consistent pattern constantly restrict themselves from the possibilities in life reflect how they value themselves and mirror their higher consciousness perspective.
The ultimate unhealed behavior is projection. Selfishness, and defensiveness, are generally accompanied by projection. Projection leaves the person you are in communication with no room to be themselves. It isn't easy to trust anyone that will not allow you to think independently and take up space in a conversation. What's odd about this behavior is that the projectors are taking up too much space and are desperate to contact others but will not allow opinions or thoughts from their circle. I didn't realize growing up what projection was. I thought my parents were teaching me how they had been raised, but projection itself can be a generational trait.
Generational curses or generational patterns are terms we throw around loosely in jokes nowadays. But, so many of us are living through generational patterns that are killing us spiritually. We are growing up living through forms of terror that we don't have language for, and we spend so much time resisting adulthood because there is so much emotional baggage to clean up and time needed to make space for our goals, dreams, and obligations.
In transition, we must be reflective of the changes we need to make to make our pathway easier. I find that so many people cling to what is negative in hopes that the light they seek will shine on them and thereby illuminate their situation. And it can give you clarity, but when you think about generations of discord and not being intentional for the next generation, it's hard to sit still and expect levity.
Personal Reflections on Change
I learned some time ago that travel would also be a trigger for change in my life. Not the transformation of places themselves, but new environments allow me to shed and heal more quickly. A wanderer by nature, but purposefully. I can't say I know what's ahead, but I do know I can never return. Change sometimes leaves an emptiness, but healing fills that space with light. The light reminds you of why your transition was necessary in the first place. There's only so long that you can dwell where things are not aligned for you, and your natural home will always be in your soul. Your goal should be to balance the inner world to align with the outer world in any transition.
Home
I used to have an old green hat that I named my "traveling hat" I would always start a trip with it on and take it off when I reached my destination. Whenever I looked for it again, I knew it was time to go home for nearly a decade; that was my travel ritual. Some years ago, my hat disappeared, and I was so torn up about it, but it finally came to me that I didn't need my faithful hat anymore. I always know when it's time to leave, and I know now that I am always at home with myself.