Returning Home is Not Failure, But an Act of Peaceful Resistance

Bike trip up the Rio Genil, Granada, Espana.

I got a glimpse of the truth this morning, friends, screaming off the page of my journal. It said: Time to go home!

Accomplished nomad, 3.5 years on the Ramblin' Anne road, I've been fighting this truth - fighting myself - fighting Spain - the noise and beauty and gentility and relentless Andalusian sun. Fighting the belief that I cannot hack overseas life.

But this is the wrong fight!

As captivating as this country of Spain is, I am simply NOT meant to be here!

Internalized Rage Wreaks Havoc

Despite the tasty tapas and inspiring history and sublime flamenco jazz – as evidenced by my happy travel posts – I am not happy. I am unsettled. I am in pain – physical, mental, emotional. Of course I am, given what’s happening back home, in my country and my beloved, terrorized city, the Nation's Capital!

But it’s not just the bad news from the USA that’s plagued me ever since I arrived overseas, to a rainy Malaga, in early March. Digging deeper into my psyche, I’ve discovered this: it’s MY OWN lack of participation in the fight, my lack of action and purpose. All that unused righteous anger energy is trapped – and sitting in cafes eating tapas, even visiting the inspiring Alhambra – is NOT assuaging me.

Alhambra at Night.

All that untapped energy gets internalized, seeps straight into my muscle in the form of fear, sorrow, malaise – and it’s practically crippling me. I can hardly walk the cobblestone streets to see the stunning sites – cannot sit at the desk for long – my legs go numb – my hips are adhered by fear. Poor Caroline my Crooked Spine is trying to get me to WAKE the EFF UP!

It worked. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the course of my 3.5 years on this solo nomad healing journey: the body knows best.

The Relief of Surrender

What a relief it is to surrender to the truth. Means I can stop beating myself up, now, for being such a pussy – for not loving Spain so much that I might even expatriate. Yes, of course, expatriation has been a very real option. It's a beautiful, livable place. I’m fluent in Spanish (Gracias, Peace Corps Mexico); I make friends easily; I can write my next book about the healing nomad journey from anywhere. I even researched the ‘Digital Nomad’ Visa – it would be very simple for me to get one and continue my Ramblin’ Anne Adventure all across the EU if I wanted to!

Instead, I got online with United and upped my return flight from to April 24th from June. I cannot lose anymore precious time.

Icy Rio Genil - snow melt off the Sierra Nevada's.

Meanwhile, I can go for a bike ride along the Rio Genil, be in my happy place, in nature, soak my bones in the cold river, and move some stopped-up energy.

Tears as Indicators

On Tuesday morning, I met Carmen, a local Granadina, for coffee - and we got to talking about Fascism – because what else is there to talk about these days, really!? As Carmen, PhD, retired social worker and activist, regaled me with stories about living through the Franco years, I felt my entire body smoldering with flames of rage. Then, as we discussed the pointed political terror attacks on Washington, my beloved city, I bent my head into my hand and cried. She tried to console me, inviting me to a manifistacion for derechos de mujeres, womens' rights, in the the Centro of Granada on Thursday, reminding me we are all fighting the same fight. I agreed, wholeheartedly, and will be meeting Carmen this very day to protest!

Three Canadian Wisewomen

In times of confusion, it's important to look for patterns. My hot-flash reaction has hit several times over the last month in conversations with strangers – tourists from other Germany and Holland - some Ausies, Brits, and lovely Canadians. Over a pitcher of sangria with a trio of girls from Montreal, last week, I had another righteous flare-up – railing against the machine as the girls nodded in agreement, adding their Canadian 2 Sense. Then these wise late 20-year-olds told me point blank: you need to get back to the USA and fight!

Tonglen Practice to Make Space for the Grief

As I write, tears stream down my cheeks – chest heaves – I’m not sure whether out of joy or grief, even fear over truth of my impending return – a mix of all, I imagine.

We're taught to resist painful feelings. But from Pema Chodron, Buddhist monk and author of Welcoming the Unwelcome, I’m learning to open to them. Using a meditation technique called Tonglen, and somewhat contrary to logic, you breathe-in the difficult feeling – befriending it, making space for it – enough space, in fact, to hold the grief of fear or pain of others – in your family, city, country, the world. Then you exhale a sense of joy or compassion or whatever you feel the world needs right now to heal. Maybe it’s love. Yes, that’s it. Love.

Desire to Serve - Rekindling SeeChange

So, dear friends back in the USA, I’ll be seeing you soon.

I have shit to do. I’m working through my aspirations, now. A key element of that intention is to be of service. So I'm rekindling SeeChange with the desire to help folks through some of the same challenges I’m confronting – integrating mindful movement and breath to calm the body and help folks shift from fear into ACTION.

We are going to need everyone on board, living their best life, taking care of their own mind, body and spirit, in order to fight this peaceful, righteous fight.

Onward!