This summer in the east coast I crossed off a bucket list item, one that I possibly should have crossed off during previous trips to the east but had not paid enough attention to its discovery. If I did, I do not have memory of it. This summer I saw fireflies. California is not hospitable to these amazing little beetles so we, Californians, must take trips in pursuit of their blinking light.
On the evening of my return from the music festival called Firefly, I was sitting alone in the patio of an old Victorian home writing in my journal. It must have been at least an hour before I noticed neon lights blinking around me. How can my attention be so fickle that it misses the light, the blinking light? I stopped writing and allowed the 8 year old girl inside be swept by the Magic of Fireflies, albeit the 31 year-old woman that I am was slightly embarrassed by my childlike wonder...whatever.
I left for my Summer of Music adventure excited to leave again, excited to be somewhere new where everything would seem “upside down” in my mind. Where I could get lost in Unknown parts, where I could make up new stories in my mind that would give new depths to the experiences of my life. I left without knowing when I would return. I left wanting to be gone and disappearing into adventures. I left my cat, Gimena, with my parents. I left my refrigerator empty, my apartment cleaned, and my bills paid. I left like I left last summer when I really left everything behind, when I left nothing behind: no home, no pet, no city, no contracts. This summer, I left like I left last summer.
I landed in Savannah, Georgia late at night in hot, humid air that felt as sweet as it did sultry...a feeling that I'd wear on the curve of my hips that would be deepened with the yet-to-be-discovered touch of his hand. It didn't take long before I discovered the new terrain of my soul. It was as if the parts Unknown of the Georgia South crashed against the parts Known of the California North. And I realized that I was feeling something forgotten that I had never imagined my gypsy-soul would feel again: Homesick.
Homesick flooded my experienced this Summer of Music. It was like a magical potion called “longing to stay”. But unlike the longings of summer's past, this longing to stay was not about staying in a foreign place or searching for a new place or desiring “something other”...it was the consolidation of Home. And I don't mean just a city, or the contract that I signed, or the lease that I'm in, or the bed I do or don't sleep in...those where just the pieces of the puzzle called Reality that I invented or that were Given to me (I can't tell the difference) where I wrote the story that I wanted to write. And they feel like Home. But I was searching for something deeper than just the pieces of reality, I wanted the parts outside to be a reflection of the parts inside. I wanted Consolidation of Inner and Outer, Imagination and Reality...I wanted my outer world, the things you see, to be a reflection of the things I see inside of me. I wanted my life to feel like a story you can know me by...I wanted it all. And that turned out to be Home. I have all I want and I want all I have. And in recent weeks, there is so much more.
Like the Fireflies that evening in the patio, my attention again missed the blinking light of the feeling of Home in Sacramento. But upon its discovery, once again I gave myself to a childlike wonder of the Light.
I left without knowing that I had left a lot behind. And that was Music.
And then I returned.