casa y hierba

This is weeks, months late. I have been home, my first and deep home, and left again in the time it took me to make this last post. I blamed the internet, the video wouldn't load, I was working, the glory of Vermont in the summer took me away from work, what else did I come up with. I think really, it was hard to close the experience up in one post. To put it to bed, this is the last post everyone its over in a nice, neat package. No, of course it was messy, it was painful and strikingly marvelous, Vermont is special and melds with my soul in a seamless jigsaw and breaking away to go back to school is never easy; like separating two strong magnets.

It's hard to summarize and conclude six months of living. We just keep living, so this life didn't end when I left. I am going to continue my practice, and continue uploading movement and words. It is my meditation in a sense.

Chile is a special place, it is a hard place, all places are both. I found new parts of myself, I let go of others. Anxiety engaged its war against my inner calmness a bit more intensely, and therefore I invited therapy and kindness towards the self in a little more. I learned how to walk with confidence, and I learned I often, in new transitions, including this current one to senior year, make myself small. Like a shirt rolled up in a suitcase trying to fit too many things, I will unroll and shake out and take up my full space.

I deeply miss Spanish, my host momma Consuelo and her nuggets Emilia and Raul, and my friends. I cherish you and hold you close always. I am happy to have a fuller variety of flavors and vegetables in my food. I miss morning coffee/tea conversation and a vibrant night culture with just the best variety of options for enjoyment. I hope to visit again. I am grateful for What'sApp!

Here are some of my words written about my homes.

begin freewrite.
I am home.

Reflecting.

Grass.

Sun and sweat.

Sometimes my curls tickle me like the grass tickles the small soft hairs on my legs. It's so peculiar to be home! Glorious and melancholy. Goodbyes and hellos fill my head and I sink a bit because it's a lot of clashing feelings having a party in my pores and blood and tissue. What does it even mean to miss a place? I found it after some rough patch potholes in the road. In Spanish you can say "lo hecho de menos" which literally means "I make less to it" which may be nonsense but so is missing something you found and it's also nonsense to try and put words to my body's corporeal language so I guess we just have to throw our hands up and scream I am here and that's good enough.

This big spider watches me. I look at her shape. She sparks primitive fear in me, but not because she does anything actually malicious. Shall we agree to just relish in the tolerance of our copresence?

Grass in my toes and tickling my legs again. Its hot in my hair and soul, its cold in Valparaiso, but my soul still warmed. I crave the sound of Chile and settle for the delicious buzz of Vermont summer. I guess sometimes we just need to eat tomatoes with black pepper and salt and let juice run down and smile once again, say I'm here. That's what my body does, she moves to the breeze of her desire and existence, validating the space she takes up. I am here.