The Long Way Home
Friend, it’s OK if it takes longer than you thought.
Today, a twist of fate landed me within two miles of the home I spent most of my life in.
The creek I played in was dried up and overgrown, but the birch tree I used to talk to (I was a weird kid) was still there—just as I’d remembered it.
Remembering is rarely simple. Ghosts stir.
I felt the pull back in time: the raw hope, the stark beauty, the possibilities of a life not yet lived. I remember when it once felt like the trees held up the sky. I traced the branches of the choices I’d made—how choosing one thing always un-chooses a whole other set of lives. This is the way of it.
I got back to my car feeling somewhat untethered—finishing up a few conversations with ghosts.
And then I did something simple: I pressed “Home” on my navigator. It took an hour and more than 100 turns, but still—I could push that button and return to the grounded place of my current life, with all its wild love, its sweet cast of characters, its puzzles to decode. Temporary too, but beautifully, urgently alive and waiting with all its life left to live.
What if contemplative practice is your “Home” button?
Shall we torture an analogy? Let’s.
Here’s the thought that came to me: the right practice is like that “Home” button. You start swirling in your thoughts, but with a skillful sequence, you can return to the embodied wisdom that leads you forward.
The yogis say that this wisdom is always available—once you find a navigational system that works for you.
That’s what we do in class. I hold the container and offer techniques—rooted in tradition and time-tested by many—to guide you back. You try them on. You see how they land. And when you find the ones that work for you—yogic or otherwise—you’ve got your “Home” button.
You’re not alone.
You are loved.
Your wisdom knows the way.
“It is an ironic habit of human beings to run faster when they have lost their way.”
🎵 A gift for the journey
Here’s a playlist I made for your summer wanderings: contemplative, a little raw, and lovingly assembled.
👉 Listen to “Temporary” on Spotify