Returning Home

This post is adapted from a message shared January 12, 2025 at Islands Community Church on Bailey's Island, ME.

I was last with you all in late October, just as we were turning towards the dark season of the year. At that time I shared three invitations that arrive in this shadowy, wintery time.

Go quietly…. move slowly…and turn inward.

Just as the more than human beings that we share the earth with have different rhythms in different seasons, we are naturally inclined that way too. Winter invites us to a different pace and volume – one that is slow enough and still enough that we might hear and feel the call of Spirit in a different way.

But modernity and living in a time and place of privilege have put up a barrier between us and the elements. We turn on lights, turn up the heat, stoke the woodstove, warm up the teakettle. I am grateful for those comforts - and I am aware that they complicate the hibernation instinct. On top of that, the back to back holidays of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year invite us to be festive, to eat, drink, and be merry. Music, lights, traditions, and end of year obligations pile on top of the cultural imperative to be productive/helpful/useful (feel free to insert whatever word inspires the “shoulds” in your life) It can be hard to go quietly, move slowly, and turn inward … 

As I offered those three invitations to you in October, I was working with them in my own life too, looking for  ways to center and prioritize them. It can be easy to just keep going… and so hard to move into a lower gear. Each fall, I need to give forethought to how I will lean into winter’s nurturing impulse. Otherwise the nights lengthen and the days get colder without attention and I get more and more disoriented by the dissonance of the mammalian urge to hibernate and the cultural imperative to keep going. Sharing my vision of wintering with all of you in late October was part of the process of stepping into the season with attention. And it has given me an opportunity to “practice what I preach” over the last 8 weeks. 

The day after I was with you, I went to a meditation group being facilitated by an old friend. When Ananda had told me about this new Monday night meditation group she was starting, I committed to participate until the winter solstice. The one-hour meditation is 45 minutes from my house so it is a lot of driving and a 2.5 hour evening commitment. I turn into a pumpkin around 8pm so I don’t often make evening commitments. Telling myself that I was doing this to support her made it a little easier. 

On the first night, I left my house a few minutes later than intended and got a little lost on my way there. The group meets in a beautiful barn in the woods. Now that it is familiar, I find it quite enchanting. But arriving that first night to the very dark parking lot and sparsely lit trail through the woods to the building was intimidating. I hustled down the path, unsure of my surroundings, late, disoriented from being lost, and about to step into a room full of people I didn’t know. My heart was racing as I sat down on the meditation pillow that was waiting for me.

Within moments, I felt myself land so deeply and comfortably in that place, in that moment, and in myself. My heart slowed and thoughts dissipated, I was simply and thoroughly there in that moment and so certain that I was exactly where I was meant to be. For a brief moment, I wondered how that was possible given the circumstances of my arrival and the fact that I was surrounded by people I didn’t know. That thought left as easily as it came and i just sat. It was glorious.

When I shared my experience with the group before closing that night, Ananda said “oh, beautiful. That sounds like coming home.” 

Her words rang so true and they have been with me ever since. I puzzle with them like a Zen koan. 

How could this be home if I have never been here?

Is home within me rather than outside of me?

If home is that perfect feeling of being in the right place at the right time doing the just-right thing, I would like more of it. 

What are the conditions of home?

How can I order my mind and heart so that I may spend more time at home?

I spent much of my early adulthood, looking for home. The world I grew up in always felt too fast, too distant, too distracted. I always felt like I had been born a century or two late for my disposition. I thought that finding home would look like discovering my purpose, place, or people. I became quite focused on those 3 Ps, believing that if I could just find either my purpose or my place or my people, the rest would fall into place. 

It was only when I gave concerted attention to the arc of my life that I recognized a continuity in my life and, importantly, glimmers of divine affirmation that ran through it. I described the discovery this way:

I found a clarity of purpose that I had not previously seen on my life path. I recognized repeating patterns of wrestle and rest, and i recalled glimpses of the divine, infinite, and eternal that had punctuated my mundane life periodically. Those moments appeared out of nowhere and the, just as quickly, faded back into the ordinary without language, context, and a system of beliefs to ground them. Recalling these glimpses into the sacred, I recognized that they, in fact, were the path to clarity that I had been seeking.

I wrote a whole book about the “coming home” that Ananda witnessed for me. Arriving Here is an anthem to remembering my belonging to the hot and holy mess of this life – to being home always and everywhere within myself, to remembering that we all belong. So why did it come as such a surprise to arrive so fully into meditation, to “come home”

Well. Because I had forgotten. 

I had forgotten.

I had forgotten that I belong. That I am a child of god. That every breath I take affirms that I am beloved. That this beautiful vast interconnected web of living and dying that I get to be a part of is Sacred.

But, if I can forget, I can remember too.

In fact, I seem to forget and remember dozens of times each day. And I don’t think I am alone in that – this recurring amnesia may just be part of the human condition….Over these last few weeks, I have been paying attention to the circumstances that help me remember, the conditions and habits that help me return home.

For starters, I have been showing up to the meditation cushion and Ananda’s gentle guidance each Monday night – usually on time.

I have noticed that I lay my hand on my heart and close my eyes when I feel deep connection

I have noticed how readily vulnerability and humility remind me of the divinity of humanity, and how that reminds me of my own divinity

As I turn off the lights at night, I sigh a deep breath of relief and release.

I wonder what helps you return home?

Maybe it’s your first sip of coffee or tea welcomes you into the holiness of a new day.

Maybe it’s a gaze out toward the ocean.

Maybe some of you feel yourself returning home when you settle into a pew each Sunday. Maybe you even sit in the same place each week?

As winter continues on with a promise to bring both distractions and real needs from the outside world, I invite you, again, to go quietly, move slowly, and turn inward – and, while your inner gaze is on your heart and spirit, begin to notice the conditions, circumstances, and habits that help you return home to remember that you are a beloved child of God. 

I’ll close with the prayer from St. Thérèse that we opened with.

May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

May it be so.