This post ~ and especially the poem Exodus ~ hit home for me in so many ways.
Especially the poem punched me straight in the gut.
I grew up in the Holy Land, Palestine, Bethlehem (now officially Israel), spent most of my life in search of an 'elusive home', settled in various countries (or at least I tried), unsettled myself again and moved on. Took me a while to realise that 'wherever you go, you carry your own sky with you' (you might as well replace the word 'sky' with 'home').
In the wake of this realisation I gradually arrived in the harbour of understanding that home can only be found within. That's when the calls to explore the inner landscape set in.
"home is where all your attempts to escape cease". The words of Naguib Mahfouz sound to me like an old friend speaking (as a former student of Arabic, and translator of contemporary Arabic literature, Naguib sounds as familiar to me as Khalil Gibran, Rainer Maria Rilke, or the Brothers Grimm)
With "Exodus" you are stirring the familiar alchemical brew in a new way.
"Yet you were never there" you throw into the mix...
and continue, giving your reader new ingredients to contemplate...
"You are chasing her
This thing called home
That time before memory"
I can instantly feel new questions bubbling up as I'm reading.
I love the questions you are asking in the intro too.
Thanks. I’m humbled. I have never travelled such a journey as yours. In the end, all of our roads lead to the inside. Home. Always found within. Maybe not a place? Maybe just a feeling? Living the questions. What is that time before memory? Your writing always taps into that for me. My Greek roots are a tapestry from broth grandparents but the story of us Pontic Greeks is not well known. Throw in the Celtic of my father. The typical Canadian- Irish and Scots and the stories all swirl into a labyrinth. It’s fun looking back. In gratitude and in mystery. I guess we don’t know where we are, if we don’t know where we’re from. If we don’t know where we are, maybe we don’t know where we’re going. Maybe we never can?
Thank you so much for your support! Folks like you make it feel less lonely. Big hugs Veronika.
I met some but only a small part of the Pontic Greek story when I worked in the Balkans, mostly in what is now known as North Macedonia (Former Yugloslave Republic). A month or so back I exchanged a brief comment with Martin Shaw the British storyteller, recently an Orthodox Christian. There is a 12thC church outside Skopje built by the provincial commander of the region during the expansion of the Byzantine Empire, and in use since then. There are important frescoes, icons.
I came across ethnic minoities as well as popular survivals of music and dance traditions across the whole of that part of 'Anatolia' / Europe to this day shared across ethnic backgrounds.The music brings the poetry as well as the history!
There are many post-imperial diaspora across this wide world, and even remnant agrarian populations.
I knew of the Turkey / Greece 'population exchange', but as 'background', and I realise now not enough. Greece and Turkey were and are of difficult and practical importance in that small Slav-dominated country. The 19thC/20thC needs serious attention to this day almost everywhere.
I value home where the work can revive. Genocide and destroyed olive trees are among our tragedies. We can celebrate another day.
Kaplan? No, not yet but saw the reference when I looked things up this morning.
I think it was in 2002 I had a long distance driver (who was previously a computer scientist), taking me across Bulgaria who gave me the complicated 'natonalist' background and conflicts during 19thC Balkans, at least up to WW1. Retired in 2006 slightly better educated, but have been unnerved at times ever since. And its not the locals really... or the rights and wrongs of history...
(I have a book of poems translated by poets from Hungarian, called 'The Lost Rider', picked it up in Budapest...). I'm thinking hard tonight ... iota in the alien zeitgeist and this is my own country ... I have a poem from 2021 ... about home ... hmmm
Big hugs right back to you. Likewise! We need one another.
The crazy thing about time (or maybe it only appears crazy to us from our limited perspective) is that we can 'time travel'. The past and future are always with us, in the present, and when we tune into true presence, all the info is there, if or when we learn to read the messages...
But that's another conversation, probably better over at Synchronosophy
An odyssey-exodus so well captured. And 'home' ... such an evocative idea, word and desire. Here, a week ago, our world was on fire. Now it's cloudy and raining. An odyssey of a different kind but house and quinta still standing means 'home' has once again blessed us. Not so lucky others who are now tasked with rebuilding homes.
"The escape still pursues you" is such a great line. Drama from the past (or maybe just memories from mundane events of the past) somehow play a role in bringing up the rear-guard, asking us to give them attention, recogniton, acceptance, and finally resolution and integration. Perhaps then they can 'find their home' into the present moment, rest, and trouble us no more.
Thank you so much Josh! You’ve been through so much lately. An odyssey indeed. I’m glad the smoke has settled. Maybe some poetry will be born out of the experience? All of these stories create us. They write us. Without us, even knowing sometimes. To find the present is a gift. That sense of being. To catch a glimpse of it is the journey. The door only opens to the inside. Thank you so much for all of your support. I hope the harvest of that garden is feeding you well this autumn. 🙏❤️
I love this article and the poem! And I love your ability to wordsmith "cuoreodyssey" .. brilliant! 😍 Home is where the heart is, it took me a while to understand that this means that we are already Home.
Thanks Sadhbh! I enjoyed reading about your own exodus and journey of heart in your writing! It is definitely a “cuoreodyssey”- a heArt journey. Love is the only way. Home. Bless you and thank you for all of your support as always. 🙏❤️
Oh Jamie, this speaks to me in so many ways. Home. The word itself makes my heart ache right now. Beautiful writing. So lovely reading your words again today. Just like 'coming home." 💜
Thank you Jo! It’s definitely a word that means something ineffable. The poetry helps me just catch a glimpse of it. I know your own journey to that same place is crossing new thresholds. Blessings and hugs. It’s definitely an Odyssey. Thank you for your support. As always. 🙏❤️
As one who has been eager to put the past behind her by beginning a new chapter- knowing I don't want to stay HERE and yet not knowing where next to leap- I have been tasked with finding my Home where my heart is.
In my limbo I noticed I was neglecting my space, letting my plants outgrow their pots,
not purchasing new things as they'd become "one more thing to have to move". The liminal between worlds space I occupied became uncomfortable as it too is no place for a home. I've changed my tack and have reclaimed where I AM NOW, have repotted my plants, am investing in the things that make me feel cozy, abundant, beautified, so that feeling of being exactly where I love to be is the feeling that inspires the next outcropping of my growth...the feeling that inspires the next stage of my journey Home.
Wow thank you Jacqueline! You just wrote a beautiful poem. Here is to now! Blessing you a beautiful space to create from as you find your own way home. Just know you’ve got somebody here who will always sing along to your song. Bless you! You make it better 🙏❤️
We walk in the footsteps and live in the stories of those who have gone before us. We surely have a soul, but the tribal soul has us. Beautiful writing, Jamie.
Thank you so much Muriel! I can’t wait to see what your retreat gives birth to in your writing. Sending love and light for such a wonderful gathering. Thanks for being here. 🙏❤️
Goodness Jamie, your voice on the page travels well ... such as rode the waves and came to Canada.
I'll dwell on that ... more words spill on to my notebook. You have drawn fom deep wells.
Yes we must still wait for Autumn here. The signs are different this year.
Our daughter now has the instrument on her phone for bird sounds. Her ears are better than the microphone, but she can now locate each source. Her short walk told us to our surprise there were still migratory swallows and marten with us, and remarkably, I thought long gone a chiffchaff as might be from my summer poem, even though down to one note of the two.
Bless all migrants and their journeys!😊
Best
Phil
PS Cavafy!
PPS Sadly my digitally augmented deafness is not quite good enough for audio.
Thanks Phillip! Living the questions here. Home. Lots converges in that word. Gratitude, mystery, past, present, future. Life. Deep wells. Enjoy the migrations and the bird song. They know answers we may never have! Bless you 🤲❤️
Ah, Jamie, you spoke to my heart. We are told that the journey is the thing, to be enjoyed, where wisdom is collected during our many battles, some without, some within But why is my mind preoccupied by home? Some of us do not have to go far to find home. What did Odysseus find out while gone for 20 years? Take good care of yourself, Jamie.
It’s definitely a cuore-odyssey! Thank you so much Perry for reading. Part of this was reflected in watching my own immigrant family. The old country always pursued them. One foot was always in the old world. Sometimes two. When they finally went back to visit, it wasn’t even the same place anymore. They felt left behind. Caught between. Home. Maybe it’s not a place. Bless you. I really appreciate your support. I hope all is well with Arya. ❤️
Mmmm! Gorgeous! The first line right after the repeated question at the top of each stanza....those are ping-ponging around my insides..."Was there anything left to carry | beyond the tongue that soon forgot | your own name...You have never let her go | The escape still pursues you...The same stories follow you | They are the clothes you wear..." Ancestral lines blur into and out of the edges of our own existence. Great healing can be found when you explore all of that though, for yourself and going back and back and back. It is something when you can finally be at home wherever you find yourself. Beautifully written, Jamie! Love, love, love. XO
Thanks Danielle! Thanks for pulling out those lines. Word lines and ancestral lines. We are the poem! Bless you! Thanks so much for being here. I appreciate you reaching out. 🙏❤️
Beautiful and emotional post, Jamie. You've touched on a universal wound felt by many—especially for those of us building our homes and sanctuaries from scratch.
Not fitting in is one thing, but not feeling at home is even more painful. Yet, through compassion, self-love, choices, and dreams, I somehow arrived at my own "door" and finally greeted myself. That longing for a space where we can exhale, sit in stillness, and listen to our thoughts resonates deeply.
Your poem is truly special—it gave me a new and moving experience. Your words landed exactly where they were meant to. Thank you, Jamie!
Thank you so much Katerina. We definitely carry the stories of our ancestors with us. They belong to us. Sometimes too much. The journey does lead inside. We all seem to get there eventually. Home. Self-love is always the first step. My heart goes out to anybody who has to start over from scratch.
Thank you for your support as always. To know that the words resonate with somebody is truly a gift. I never take for granted. I look forward to your writing as it intersects many of my own interests and passions so closely.
🙏❤️ îmbrățișări mari înapoi la tine, Jamie! Thank you for this and for writing straight from the heart. It’s uniquely yours—a voice no one else can imitate or take away: "The journey does lead inside. We all seem to get there eventually. Home. Self-love is always the first step."
Hi Jamie, so many parallels re Australia and the migrant experience. Interestingly, I just flew home from Egypt yesterday and as I watched the sun spread across the horizon as we flew over outback Australia I felt a deep sense of belonging to this landscape despite being from the seed of those who are not indigenous to these shores. This speaks to me of this human experience — my home — the more expansive self/soul resides where we all do. How fascinating — all the mystery.😊
Bless you Simone! Egypt sounds amazing and yes home …To be of a place and it of you. Bone deep indeed Thanks for reading and reaching out. Enjoy spring! 🙏❤️
Great question Will. Were we already there? Has it already happened? The word epigenetic..just popped out at me as I was writing in the theme of DNA-does a story write us or do we write it? I admit to being weak on that actual science. Thank you so much for all of the support. Somehow everything just leads to more questions. The search for home maybe is just the search for presence? 🙏❤️
I came across this word in the book What My Bones Know - a tough read - but one of the lasting things I remember was this idea that what came before might be capable of being passed along.
I’m a little out of my depth on this front, but the other thing I heard recently was the idea of the story of the great floods of millennia ago, the stories that surround them—it was on one of the Emerald podcast episodes—and I’m pretty sure there was a wondering posed about whether they were stories of floods or actually memory, passed through the culture onto present day.
Hmm…
I’ll have to listen back to that episode now. I’ll dig it out and send you the link.
Additionally—got me thinking now—there was a Mary Oliver poem, can’t remember where I found it, which spoke to how a mouse knows to be scared of a predator it’s never seen before. I wish I knew which one it was now!
I totally resonate. The stories of our ancestors become our own. Fears and hatreds as well somehow. Culture is strong conditioning. Yet something in our bones knows something “epi” - above or beyond. A different story. Thats the one that sings me to sleep and kisses me before dawn. Cosmic? Consciousness? Love? Presence? Something watching me? Writing me? Is it destiny? The fates? Ah many poems later and many excursions into the spaces to come. A cuore-odyssey. Thanks for journeying with me mate.
I was contemplating this theme this morning…so it is lovely to bookend that tonight with this gem from you, Jamie. And to read Jacqueline here as well and about her repotted plants. It is a quest to find home. Like others here, my sense is to find it inside so I am always there and don’t have to obtain some imaginary thing outside myself that I am not sure can be found in an ever changing world. I will continue to contemplate…and an Irish passport would be welcome. My ancestors from there are too distant and shrouded in mist. ❤️
Thanks Terra! Keep travelling that road inside! A few trips to that mist on the Irish West is some good icing on the cake. Bless you. Thank you so much for all of your support and for reading and reaching out. 🙏❤️
Yes...it is good to feel that I can go visit regardless of that passport. And I am toying with the idea of going back to the West coast to complete my book once I get my permanent residency here. Those mists do call to me.
Jaime, that first quote hit me hard, home is where all your attempts to escape cease. I am a restless wandering soul, but home is the people I don’t want to escape. This is beautiful, thinking of where we came from and where and what is home. Thank you for this beautiful post! Enjoy a beautiful autumn!
Greetings Sir Jamie, poetry is initiation, Exodus a prayer, a calling forth, an ancestral yearning passed down and passed forward. Autumn a time to remember the elders, the ancestors with a small personal fire or simple candle flame, and how potent you evoke them, is palpable and felt to my ancestral core, Jamie. All harvest blessings to you and yours, Geraldine
This post ~ and especially the poem Exodus ~ hit home for me in so many ways.
Especially the poem punched me straight in the gut.
I grew up in the Holy Land, Palestine, Bethlehem (now officially Israel), spent most of my life in search of an 'elusive home', settled in various countries (or at least I tried), unsettled myself again and moved on. Took me a while to realise that 'wherever you go, you carry your own sky with you' (you might as well replace the word 'sky' with 'home').
In the wake of this realisation I gradually arrived in the harbour of understanding that home can only be found within. That's when the calls to explore the inner landscape set in.
"home is where all your attempts to escape cease". The words of Naguib Mahfouz sound to me like an old friend speaking (as a former student of Arabic, and translator of contemporary Arabic literature, Naguib sounds as familiar to me as Khalil Gibran, Rainer Maria Rilke, or the Brothers Grimm)
With "Exodus" you are stirring the familiar alchemical brew in a new way.
"Yet you were never there" you throw into the mix...
and continue, giving your reader new ingredients to contemplate...
"You are chasing her
This thing called home
That time before memory"
I can instantly feel new questions bubbling up as I'm reading.
I love the questions you are asking in the intro too.
Thank you Jamie 💗🙏 for this exceptional piece
Thanks. I’m humbled. I have never travelled such a journey as yours. In the end, all of our roads lead to the inside. Home. Always found within. Maybe not a place? Maybe just a feeling? Living the questions. What is that time before memory? Your writing always taps into that for me. My Greek roots are a tapestry from broth grandparents but the story of us Pontic Greeks is not well known. Throw in the Celtic of my father. The typical Canadian- Irish and Scots and the stories all swirl into a labyrinth. It’s fun looking back. In gratitude and in mystery. I guess we don’t know where we are, if we don’t know where we’re from. If we don’t know where we are, maybe we don’t know where we’re going. Maybe we never can?
Thank you so much for your support! Folks like you make it feel less lonely. Big hugs Veronika.
🙏❤️
I met some but only a small part of the Pontic Greek story when I worked in the Balkans, mostly in what is now known as North Macedonia (Former Yugloslave Republic). A month or so back I exchanged a brief comment with Martin Shaw the British storyteller, recently an Orthodox Christian. There is a 12thC church outside Skopje built by the provincial commander of the region during the expansion of the Byzantine Empire, and in use since then. There are important frescoes, icons.
I came across ethnic minoities as well as popular survivals of music and dance traditions across the whole of that part of 'Anatolia' / Europe to this day shared across ethnic backgrounds.The music brings the poetry as well as the history!
There are many post-imperial diaspora across this wide world, and even remnant agrarian populations.
I knew of the Turkey / Greece 'population exchange', but as 'background', and I realise now not enough. Greece and Turkey were and are of difficult and practical importance in that small Slav-dominated country. The 19thC/20thC needs serious attention to this day almost everywhere.
I value home where the work can revive. Genocide and destroyed olive trees are among our tragedies. We can celebrate another day.
Thanks Phillip! The Balkans! Did you ever read Robert Kaplan’s book? It’s phenomenal, and it makes sense of so much of “the story”.
Kaplan? No, not yet but saw the reference when I looked things up this morning.
I think it was in 2002 I had a long distance driver (who was previously a computer scientist), taking me across Bulgaria who gave me the complicated 'natonalist' background and conflicts during 19thC Balkans, at least up to WW1. Retired in 2006 slightly better educated, but have been unnerved at times ever since. And its not the locals really... or the rights and wrongs of history...
(I have a book of poems translated by poets from Hungarian, called 'The Lost Rider', picked it up in Budapest...). I'm thinking hard tonight ... iota in the alien zeitgeist and this is my own country ... I have a poem from 2021 ... about home ... hmmm
best to all for your reading messages
Balkan ghosts!
Big hugs right back to you. Likewise! We need one another.
The crazy thing about time (or maybe it only appears crazy to us from our limited perspective) is that we can 'time travel'. The past and future are always with us, in the present, and when we tune into true presence, all the info is there, if or when we learn to read the messages...
But that's another conversation, probably better over at Synchronosophy
And that’s a conversation I am ready for! See you there 🙏❤️
An odyssey-exodus so well captured. And 'home' ... such an evocative idea, word and desire. Here, a week ago, our world was on fire. Now it's cloudy and raining. An odyssey of a different kind but house and quinta still standing means 'home' has once again blessed us. Not so lucky others who are now tasked with rebuilding homes.
"The escape still pursues you" is such a great line. Drama from the past (or maybe just memories from mundane events of the past) somehow play a role in bringing up the rear-guard, asking us to give them attention, recogniton, acceptance, and finally resolution and integration. Perhaps then they can 'find their home' into the present moment, rest, and trouble us no more.
Thank you so much Josh! You’ve been through so much lately. An odyssey indeed. I’m glad the smoke has settled. Maybe some poetry will be born out of the experience? All of these stories create us. They write us. Without us, even knowing sometimes. To find the present is a gift. That sense of being. To catch a glimpse of it is the journey. The door only opens to the inside. Thank you so much for all of your support. I hope the harvest of that garden is feeding you well this autumn. 🙏❤️
I love this article and the poem! And I love your ability to wordsmith "cuoreodyssey" .. brilliant! 😍 Home is where the heart is, it took me a while to understand that this means that we are already Home.
Thanks Sadhbh! I enjoyed reading about your own exodus and journey of heart in your writing! It is definitely a “cuoreodyssey”- a heArt journey. Love is the only way. Home. Bless you and thank you for all of your support as always. 🙏❤️
Oh Jamie, this speaks to me in so many ways. Home. The word itself makes my heart ache right now. Beautiful writing. So lovely reading your words again today. Just like 'coming home." 💜
Thank you Jo! It’s definitely a word that means something ineffable. The poetry helps me just catch a glimpse of it. I know your own journey to that same place is crossing new thresholds. Blessings and hugs. It’s definitely an Odyssey. Thank you for your support. As always. 🙏❤️
💜🙏
Beautiful, as always Jamie. ❤️
As one who has been eager to put the past behind her by beginning a new chapter- knowing I don't want to stay HERE and yet not knowing where next to leap- I have been tasked with finding my Home where my heart is.
In my limbo I noticed I was neglecting my space, letting my plants outgrow their pots,
not purchasing new things as they'd become "one more thing to have to move". The liminal between worlds space I occupied became uncomfortable as it too is no place for a home. I've changed my tack and have reclaimed where I AM NOW, have repotted my plants, am investing in the things that make me feel cozy, abundant, beautified, so that feeling of being exactly where I love to be is the feeling that inspires the next outcropping of my growth...the feeling that inspires the next stage of my journey Home.
Wow thank you Jacqueline! You just wrote a beautiful poem. Here is to now! Blessing you a beautiful space to create from as you find your own way home. Just know you’ve got somebody here who will always sing along to your song. Bless you! You make it better 🙏❤️
Thank you, you beautiful soul. I appreciate your presence in my Now!! ✨❤️🙏
We walk in the footsteps and live in the stories of those who have gone before us. We surely have a soul, but the tribal soul has us. Beautiful writing, Jamie.
Thank you so much Muriel! I can’t wait to see what your retreat gives birth to in your writing. Sending love and light for such a wonderful gathering. Thanks for being here. 🙏❤️
Goodness Jamie, your voice on the page travels well ... such as rode the waves and came to Canada.
I'll dwell on that ... more words spill on to my notebook. You have drawn fom deep wells.
Yes we must still wait for Autumn here. The signs are different this year.
Our daughter now has the instrument on her phone for bird sounds. Her ears are better than the microphone, but she can now locate each source. Her short walk told us to our surprise there were still migratory swallows and marten with us, and remarkably, I thought long gone a chiffchaff as might be from my summer poem, even though down to one note of the two.
Bless all migrants and their journeys!😊
Best
Phil
PS Cavafy!
PPS Sadly my digitally augmented deafness is not quite good enough for audio.
Thanks Phillip! Living the questions here. Home. Lots converges in that word. Gratitude, mystery, past, present, future. Life. Deep wells. Enjoy the migrations and the bird song. They know answers we may never have! Bless you 🤲❤️
Ah, Jamie, you spoke to my heart. We are told that the journey is the thing, to be enjoyed, where wisdom is collected during our many battles, some without, some within But why is my mind preoccupied by home? Some of us do not have to go far to find home. What did Odysseus find out while gone for 20 years? Take good care of yourself, Jamie.
It’s definitely a cuore-odyssey! Thank you so much Perry for reading. Part of this was reflected in watching my own immigrant family. The old country always pursued them. One foot was always in the old world. Sometimes two. When they finally went back to visit, it wasn’t even the same place anymore. They felt left behind. Caught between. Home. Maybe it’s not a place. Bless you. I really appreciate your support. I hope all is well with Arya. ❤️
Mmmm! Gorgeous! The first line right after the repeated question at the top of each stanza....those are ping-ponging around my insides..."Was there anything left to carry | beyond the tongue that soon forgot | your own name...You have never let her go | The escape still pursues you...The same stories follow you | They are the clothes you wear..." Ancestral lines blur into and out of the edges of our own existence. Great healing can be found when you explore all of that though, for yourself and going back and back and back. It is something when you can finally be at home wherever you find yourself. Beautifully written, Jamie! Love, love, love. XO
Thanks Danielle! Thanks for pulling out those lines. Word lines and ancestral lines. We are the poem! Bless you! Thanks so much for being here. I appreciate you reaching out. 🙏❤️
Beautiful and emotional post, Jamie. You've touched on a universal wound felt by many—especially for those of us building our homes and sanctuaries from scratch.
Not fitting in is one thing, but not feeling at home is even more painful. Yet, through compassion, self-love, choices, and dreams, I somehow arrived at my own "door" and finally greeted myself. That longing for a space where we can exhale, sit in stillness, and listen to our thoughts resonates deeply.
Your poem is truly special—it gave me a new and moving experience. Your words landed exactly where they were meant to. Thank you, Jamie!
Thank you so much Katerina. We definitely carry the stories of our ancestors with us. They belong to us. Sometimes too much. The journey does lead inside. We all seem to get there eventually. Home. Self-love is always the first step. My heart goes out to anybody who has to start over from scratch.
Thank you for your support as always. To know that the words resonate with somebody is truly a gift. I never take for granted. I look forward to your writing as it intersects many of my own interests and passions so closely.
îmbrățișări mari 🙏❤️
🙏❤️ îmbrățișări mari înapoi la tine, Jamie! Thank you for this and for writing straight from the heart. It’s uniquely yours—a voice no one else can imitate or take away: "The journey does lead inside. We all seem to get there eventually. Home. Self-love is always the first step."
Hi Jamie, so many parallels re Australia and the migrant experience. Interestingly, I just flew home from Egypt yesterday and as I watched the sun spread across the horizon as we flew over outback Australia I felt a deep sense of belonging to this landscape despite being from the seed of those who are not indigenous to these shores. This speaks to me of this human experience — my home — the more expansive self/soul resides where we all do. How fascinating — all the mystery.😊
Bless you Simone! Egypt sounds amazing and yes home …To be of a place and it of you. Bone deep indeed Thanks for reading and reaching out. Enjoy spring! 🙏❤️
Very Felt.
🙏🌀❤🔥
Thanks so much Celeste! I appreciate you reading and reaching out 🙏❤️
My pleasure 🙌🫂🪄
And yet does epigentics say that, in some way, we were there? And if so, can we ever leave? That’s my wondering from this stirring piece. Thanks, Jim.
Great question Will. Were we already there? Has it already happened? The word epigenetic..just popped out at me as I was writing in the theme of DNA-does a story write us or do we write it? I admit to being weak on that actual science. Thank you so much for all of the support. Somehow everything just leads to more questions. The search for home maybe is just the search for presence? 🙏❤️
I came across this word in the book What My Bones Know - a tough read - but one of the lasting things I remember was this idea that what came before might be capable of being passed along.
I’m a little out of my depth on this front, but the other thing I heard recently was the idea of the story of the great floods of millennia ago, the stories that surround them—it was on one of the Emerald podcast episodes—and I’m pretty sure there was a wondering posed about whether they were stories of floods or actually memory, passed through the culture onto present day.
Hmm…
I’ll have to listen back to that episode now. I’ll dig it out and send you the link.
Additionally—got me thinking now—there was a Mary Oliver poem, can’t remember where I found it, which spoke to how a mouse knows to be scared of a predator it’s never seen before. I wish I knew which one it was now!
I totally resonate. The stories of our ancestors become our own. Fears and hatreds as well somehow. Culture is strong conditioning. Yet something in our bones knows something “epi” - above or beyond. A different story. Thats the one that sings me to sleep and kisses me before dawn. Cosmic? Consciousness? Love? Presence? Something watching me? Writing me? Is it destiny? The fates? Ah many poems later and many excursions into the spaces to come. A cuore-odyssey. Thanks for journeying with me mate.
Something in our bones knows.
Bless you 🙏❤️
I was contemplating this theme this morning…so it is lovely to bookend that tonight with this gem from you, Jamie. And to read Jacqueline here as well and about her repotted plants. It is a quest to find home. Like others here, my sense is to find it inside so I am always there and don’t have to obtain some imaginary thing outside myself that I am not sure can be found in an ever changing world. I will continue to contemplate…and an Irish passport would be welcome. My ancestors from there are too distant and shrouded in mist. ❤️
Thanks Terra! Keep travelling that road inside! A few trips to that mist on the Irish West is some good icing on the cake. Bless you. Thank you so much for all of your support and for reading and reaching out. 🙏❤️
Yes...it is good to feel that I can go visit regardless of that passport. And I am toying with the idea of going back to the West coast to complete my book once I get my permanent residency here. Those mists do call to me.
Jaime, that first quote hit me hard, home is where all your attempts to escape cease. I am a restless wandering soul, but home is the people I don’t want to escape. This is beautiful, thinking of where we came from and where and what is home. Thank you for this beautiful post! Enjoy a beautiful autumn!
Thank you so much Jenn. Keep painting home! It seems to show up in all of your work. Thanks for being here. Blessings. 🙏❤️
Thank you, Jaime, that is so kind and has touched me deeply. Sending you abundant blessings as well ❤️
Greetings Sir Jamie, poetry is initiation, Exodus a prayer, a calling forth, an ancestral yearning passed down and passed forward. Autumn a time to remember the elders, the ancestors with a small personal fire or simple candle flame, and how potent you evoke them, is palpable and felt to my ancestral core, Jamie. All harvest blessings to you and yours, Geraldine
You are a poem Geraldine! Thanks for your beautiful words and the harvest of joy they provide. Bless you! Thanks for being here! 🙏❤️
Awww, you’re very kind and delightful sweet, Jamie!