I am home.
I am home and the land feels so vibrant and so close, like a warm breeze plucking at my heart strings.
I am home and I feel fragile, vulnerable and exposed.
There is a sense of a new self, a new way of being that has emerged over the last month and I am terrified of it.
When I first got back I was blissfully distracted by reconnecting with my family, my wife and son. Then I was busy catching up with people and my partner was busy working and it did not seem like I landed until Thursday.
On Thursday morning I found myself hanging out with my partner with nothing else to do, no events or agendas, just time to reconnect. She started telling me about a project she had started to plan and at some point things went off track. I went off track.
I found myself feeling sad. And lost. I do not know why.
She invited me to share something that excited me about her plan and I was stumped. My heart was unmoved, not a mote of excitement to follow or expand, just sadness. A month ago I would have been thrilled about this project and thrilled to be involved but now, nothing, sadness.
She invited me to follow the sadness and the next moment I was hiding under my pillow howling into the mattress. I surrendered, let it take me, let my body move in the ways it wanted to – curling, stretching, hiding, sobbing, gulping for breath.
As I gave myself over to the feeling I was beset by a full body sensory impression of a tree growing through me. I barely had time to register the seed become sapling before the trunk was as wide as my hips, crown shooting through my head, branches tearing their way through my chest. In moments the tree was a fully-grown mountain ash, roots sunk deep in the Earth, leaves brushing the sky, straight and tall. My skin was in tatters on the ground.
Kiri-as-mountain-ash is possessed of a startling clarity. I can see exactly where my path lies and does not lie, what is action and what is distraction. I am awed and humbled and terrified by the presence within me. The presence that is me.