I watched my father die this year. The body that carried him is gone. That body was his home for 58 years and watching him struggle to leave it has brought me back to mine.
When was the last time I felt at home in my body? When did I decide to see it as a trap? A confining thing to flee, neglect, forget. Why did I choose to see this structure as a jail instead of a foundation - a support?
Every decision I have made that has caused me distress has been made when I wasn’t home. When I am consciously in my body, it sends up alarms and flares I cannot miss. The twitching of an eye, the pull in the guts, the absent-minded trip - any misalignment informs me of a greater incoherency. My body always tells me when I’m moving in and out of integrity.
My body speaks the truth. And when I am home, so do I. I cannot find it in my self to harm this vessel then - because when I am present I can feel how much it hurts. Then I am flesh. I am soft. I am here.
When I am home, I can invite you in. We can’t hang out if we don’t know where to meet. I can tell you what to bring and what I have to offer. I can be welcoming. There is a base. I am safe.
Leaving home is considered a normal step in our growth. But do we really ever get away? Don’t the smells and the sounds of the words that hit the walls follow us in and out of our home and everyone else’s? Until we create our home in our image - the original decoration remains.
It is no accident that my career revolves around the body. Dancing to give it expression, therapy to reestablish balance. My work is all about coming home. Celebrating the space and what it contains.
My father left his body on December 2nd, 2015. There are moments when the pain of missing him makes me forget who I am. I can feel a hundred things at once - and it reminds me that I am home. Home in my body where it is safe to break down like this; to watch all my possessions start to fray and rub thin. I can see my love for my dad shake me down to the foundations he helped create. And they hold strong.
I watched my father die. And then I watched my father free. And when I listen I can hear him welcoming me back home.