On the Road Again

Homecoming

“I think being from east Tennessee, you're kinda born with a little lonesome in your soul, in your blood. You know you've got that Appalachian soul.”
Ashley Monroe

Driving through the Ocoee gorge yesterday, I felt my gut begin to unwind. By Nantahala, I was in an altered state of calm, earth-connected joy. I can't begin to explain what coming to North Carolina does to me, but all my cells know I'm home. Those rivers, in the valleys between green, green mountains, are the blood of my blood. There is a little bit of lonely that comes with it, a little soul-yearning that I imagine most people feel when they are displaced to foreign countries and see pictures of home. Your heart reacts; you have both a physical and an emotional response to the land where your genetic roots are planted. I wonder whether you have this response to “home” too. For me, it gives new meaning to the creation story in Genesis in which Adam is created from the dust of the earth and placed in a garden between rivers. (Genesis 2:4-24) We, too, are created from the soil and clay and river waters of home.

Home is an interesting notion, isn't it? I have lived in Birmingham, AL for thirty-seven years—far longer than I lived in North Carolina, yet everything in me knows it is not home. Anyone who lives far from where they were born will understand this—the culture of the place of our birth forms us. North Carolina is full of craftsmen—wood carvers, writers, painters, quilters—and I find myself drawn to these arts because they feel like home. I suppose it's like eating Philly steak and cheese in Pennsylvania, Ramen noodle bowls in Japan, and brats and beer in Chicago. You can go to other places and eat the same food, but it never tastes right. Maybe it's the water or the sunlight, but the greens are greener here, the variety of birds and wild flowers is greater and more colorful. The lilt in the voices carries a particular rhythm that my ears lean into and love. I hope there's a place you feel this way about.

As mobile as we are today, we cannot break the bonds of clan. From birth, we know who they are and who they are not, and we know to whom we belong. We may not agree with our family about a million things, but we share the same blood, we carry the same DNA and we are deeply embedded in their identity, and they in ours. Our souls are connected to both the people and the earth. Wherever we are, even continents and oceans away, we share a homing beacon that brings us back time after time. Back to ground, back to tribe, back to home. My Appalachian soul requires this pilgrimage to stay connected to its Source.

In the Spirit,
Jane