[Some thoughts I jot down while in the car on my last day in Italy]
Here we are. Last day of our trip. We are driving back from my cousin’s restaurant where we had lunch with relatives. The rainy, gray Milan is conducive to thinking. It makes me realize how therapeutic and essential it is for me, to remain in touch with my origins.
I am becoming aware of my center.
I call my center “the place” from which I draw energy, which gives me balance and reminds me who I am. “The place” is not just a physical space, it is an ensemble of elements such as my grandfather’s wisdom, humor, and the history he represents. It is the love of dear ones who is shown in such a simple and eternal manner. “The place” is made of friendships that are so rooted into my life that reach farther than my memory. It is made of sweet memories, as well as bitter ones. It is made of caring parents and a little brother who have exemplified Love in my life. It is made of familiar places that have remained the same and some that have changed over time.
It is so powerful to come back to my birth place because all these elements happen to be or gravitate around this physical place. I realize that I am very fortunate. I gave it for granted. It is true that often we do not realize how essential something is, until it is not at hand’s reach anymore.
I need “the place” more than I’ve ever thought, it is my personal sanctuary. It is a spiritual place to me, it is my Bethel. I need it to keep centered, balanced, and to know who I am, who I have been, and who I have become. I’m just enjoying this epiphany.