The Perch
The Perch, Fall 2020
The notion of home has always felt elusive to me. Even to this day, there are moments when I feel myself longing after this foreign idea of safety I feel a home is supposed to embody. This is not to say I didn't grow up in a physically safe environment. I did. However, after almost two years of transient living, I've come to evaluate and understand this synergy between feeling safe and feeling home. Furthermore, the synergy between feeling safe in ones body/mind and feeling safe in the world.
Lately I've been reckoning with the fact that I rarely felt safe as a child. I believe it was mostly due to habit of dissociating. I believe dissociation is a root cause of why I’ve had difficulty feeling safe in the world. When you grow up fantasizing your way out of heavy emotions and/or environments, it then becomes difficult to build a foundation of trust within oneself, especially when difficult moments arise. Instead I learned to look to the external world for comfort; particularly people and spaces. This subconscious expectation was heavily placed on romantic relationships and familial spaces. I didn't have language for this cycle until 2020. It was an uncomfortable year to put it nicely. It was the year I truly began to reckon with myself in all ways, and no corner of my mind felt unexposed to myself. Only this time, my habit of disassociation was not an option. My internal world felt the least safe place to be, as everything was being revealed and scorched for a breathtaking transformation. A chrysalis if you will.
*I'm getting to the Perch, but you need some background to truly understand its significance*
The Summer of 2020, I decided to move out of the first home I ever felt fully safe in. It was impulsive and necessary (aka lesbians lol). Thankfully I have attracted the most wonderful friends over the years, and thankfully those friends have cultivated home spaces that truly nurture the soul. I spent that first week allowing myself to wilt in my friends’ gorgeous guest house.
I spent the next week moving through grief of a relationship and a dying self, and watching a lot of Eat, Pray Love at my favorite home in Watervalley, MS.
The following week, I rested in my dad's space in Jackson, MS before heading to a weekend retreat in Atlanta.
Throughout all of this, I had a very loose plan and a lot of faith that that something would work out in my favor. And something did. My two friends with the gorgeous tiny home connected me with a lovely, fiery woman named Jane Rule, and she offered me solace at The Perch.
I decided after my retreat I would return to Taylor, MS and give myself space to be with myself like never before. Note that I had not lived alone or been immersed in my own solitude for 5 years at that point. So fear definitely had a root in me.
I arrive back in Taylor, MS to meet Jane and move in. I had no concrete idea what the cabin looked like aside from a few interior photos. I was working with blind faith forreal. Up until this point I was full fledge trusting this unseen energy to guide me. I finally received confirmation that I made the right choice when Jane and I were walking to The Perch and butterflies were surrounding us. We made it to the cabin, and all of her interior decor were birds. I felt safe. Around this time I was sure the birds were my ancestors. lol I still feel this way some days.
The Perch is a charming, secluded cabin in the woods. I technically had neighbors, but if you were to step outside your only view is breathtaking landscape. It is small with a studio layout. Perfect for one. The porch is screened in and has a daybed suited for reading, napping, watching the sun set and rise, and enjoying cantaloupe and pancakes with Stevi. The "driveway" is an off road path that guides you along a trail of bamboo before reaching the opening of landscape that was my front yard. And the stars! I will never forget the visibility of our sky. It ruined the idea of any city for me.
My first two nights at the Perch were silent. I forgot how deafening silence could be. I also forgot how sweet. If I hadn't had a spiritual practice at that point, it would've been overwhelming. I remember feeling afraid of being by myself, then concluding, "either you're going to be afraid forever or you're going to learn to enjoy this". I chose the latter.
My days were simple and full. I rose before the sun to meditate and watch deer run through morning fog. I journaled. I cried. A lot. I danced. I went to yoga daily, I spent my afternoons at Lost Dog Coffee working towards my herbalism certification. My evenings were spent devouring sweet potato bowls, doing shadow work and watching Schitt's Creek. Every moment of my days became intentional and sacred. Slowly, I began to feel better than ok. My little routines became the reason I began to feel myself coming out on the other side. The presence I cultivated while in that space laid path to this internal world that was at ease with and trusting of life. I began to feel safe in my mind, body and heart. I realized for the first time that, for me, home is not a place. It's definitely not something I can find in another person. Home is the space within I create for myself to come to when I need love most. It has always been there. I simply needed space to be with myself. In doing this work, my external environment became a reflection of the internal environment I was desperately craving. The safety that had been evading me was in my every breath now. I finally understood that what I was searching for in others could only be found by going within.
And so, The Perch is where my journey of cultivating home within began. Since then, I’ve learned not to become so attached to places because home is wherever I am (I still get attached, but that's just my current disposition as a Scorpio Moon). I've learned to truly appreciate things, people and spaces while I have time with them. Most importantly, I’ve been deepening self trust. In beginning to nurture this relationship with myself, I’ve opened myself up to discovering new ways of showing up in relationships and life. Ways that are more intentional, sacred, and trusting.
Since leaving the Perch, I’ve had many moments of backtracking, mainly in the sense of choosing distraction in its many forms over nurturing the relationship with self. Though with grace, I always manage to recalibrate and choose stillness. In that stillness, I’m reminded that this practice is exactly that… Practice
