“When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.” – Native American Saying
Last week, I worked something like 70 hours preparing for an event. Our team was in a frenzy trying to get everything accomplished. And oddly, I felt completely in my element. Tired and anxious yet giddy with excitement. It’s fun to create something with a team and watch it unfold.
The event went great. But what stood out most to me was how natural the chaos felt. I was running around all weekend, and it felt like home. It felt like I had come back to my comfort zone. A place of rushing and running and being in my head and sorting it all out just in the nick of time.
On one hand I felt proud of myself for being able to juggle it all. On the other, I couldn’t help but think, “What the hell am I doing to my body?” By the end of the weekend, my eyes were bloodshot, my lips were dry and cracked, and all I could do was daydream about spending an entire day in bed.
I’m not trying to say that we shouldn’t get swept away in something from time to time, that we shouldn’t throw ourselves into the chaos every now and again.
But I was a bit disturbed when I realized how many days I’ve spent in overdrive, pushing and pushing until I literally shutdown like a zombie.
The morning after the festival, I stepped outside and soaked in Mother Earth. It felt so good. The cold breeze, the swaying trees, the sunshine. This was reality. This was home. Not the air conditioning or fluorescent lights or adrenaline.
I sat on a rock in peace and watched nature do its thing. I thought back to another life. I must have been living outdoors with a tight knit community, cooking our own meals, singing our own music, creating our own lighting with the flames of a fire. A life that was so completely present. A life that knew it’s all right here in this moment. It’s in the breeze. It’s in the warmth of the sun, the beauty of a flower, the love I feel as I take it all in.
I’ve been running around most of my life trying to find home. In reality, I’m already home. I’m just too distracted to realize it. Too distracted with trying to get and be what society has conditioned me to believe is “home.”
But chaos isn’t home. Struggle isn’t home. And I’m assured of this when I rest in the peace and love and nurturance of our true home.
You remember a time, don’t you? Somewhere deep in your bones. When you woke up to the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the birds. A lifetime when you knew Mother Earth’s love intimately and you loved her in return. What must that have felt like? Don’t you want to know again? She’s waiting for us to remember.