Returning Home: Remembering My Roots
It had been around two and a half years since I last touched down on the green isle of Ireland—my birthplace, my ancestral soil.
For a long time, I avoided returning. The idea of “home” had become tangled in grief, estrangement, and unspoken longing. My relationship with family felt increasingly distant and after my grandfather’s passing, the thought of returning without his warm welcome made the idea of going back even harder.
But life has a way of inviting us to face what we’ve been avoiding.
An invitation to my dads retirement celebration nudged me to finally return. As soon as I stepped off the plane and onto the land tears filled my eyes—no longer was my loving Grampa there to greet me at the airport. This presence of grief made my heart ache and yet, minutes later, it was met with a gentle joy as I seen my little nephew and my brother who had also flown in. One family member gone, but yet because of him we live on.
The three of us, along with my dad, shared a beautiful day exploring the Causeway Coast. Ireland doesn’t have the best reputation for sunny weather - but the sun shone unusually bright for May allowing all 3 generations to have a refreshing splash in the North Atlantic Ocean. It was in the quiet moments alone however that I felt something stir. A reconnection. Not just to my family, but to the land itself.
It was as if the elements and spirits were calling to me: “We remember you.”
The next morning, I woke incredibly early with a strong urge to get up with the rising sun and explore. Still in my pyjamas, I found myself dancing like a little fairy amongst waterfalls and magical forests all the way up to the cliffs at Mussenden Temple.
The clear blue sky held both the sun and the moon as I approached the cliff edge where I looked out to the ocean and felt a sense of abundance, of remembrance and deep connection. As I recorded a video to send to my partner, I shouted, “There’s no one else here but me!” But within moments, I knew I wasn’t alone. I felt the presence of my ancestors—my grandfather especially—gently saying, “Welcome home. This is where you're from. These lands are in you, and we are in these lands too.”
Their presence, their wisdom, their love and joy was still here, not lost. It lives on in the soil, in the birdsong, in the flowers and in me.
In that moment, I realised something profoundly beautiful: I’ve always been home. The Earth, in her wisdom, has always held me—whether in Ireland, in England, or wherever I’ve found myself wandering across the world. She welcomes us all, regardless of where we’re born or how disconnected we may feel from our roots. Her embrace is unconditional.
Whether you feel deeply rooted in your homeland or disconnected from it… whether you're settled or still seeking… I invite you to take a quiet moment to reflect:
What is your relationship to the land you’re on now?
What wisdom have other places, people, and cultures gifted you?
How might you honour your connection to this Earth—here, now?
We are all of this Earth. Each land, each ancestor, each tree, stone, and being carries wisdom worth remembering. We’re not separate. Every action, every word, every breath leaves an imprint. The more we listen and honour these stories—ours and others’—the more we cultivate a deep, loving relationship with life itself.
Even if you feel far from your family, your culture, your origin—know this: you are never far from the Mother. Place your feet on the ground and listen, tune into the land beneath you. She’s always here.
Can you find beauty in where you are right now? Can you let this Earth be your home? Wrap your arms around a tree and let it hold you back. Breathe in the air, feel your lungs expand and say thank you. Feel the softness of the rose petal and come home to your own softness. Let the rain enliven you as it does all our plants, let the fire warm your desires and the spirit of love come through you - be it through words, actions, movement or full presence. Plant a seed. Offer a prayer. Tend to the land or lend a hand in your local community. These small acts of love ripple out further than you know.
Home isn’t always a person or a place. Sometimes, it’s the sacred now—the moment you remember that you belong. We all belong in this miracle of life.